Disclaimer:Uhm, no, I don't think I own these characters or the shows... or do I? :)

A/N in addiction to my Mentalist Christmas Story based around A christmas carol, I decided to write a little something for the ones who follow my M rated stuff... this is for you all, people!

so...happy Christmas, and could next year be better than your 2011, whatever happened!

Sometimes, she hated Christmas. Not in a "I'm a Grinch" kind of way, but in a "I'm sick of this totally commercialized festivity that should be about everything but capitalism". Also because said capitalized festivity forced her to do two things she couldn't stand - buying a gift for Jane and decorating. And if getting a gift for a "former billionaire with hyper-modern house to the beach who still owes a vintage cars collection worth over 2 million dollars but doesn't care about money any longer" who kept buying exaggerated gifts (pony? emeralds? Seriously?) was bad enough, decorating was even more terrible. Especially if she was supposed to put the damn decorations up on the shelves, and on the top one. Her, Miss agent Teresa "1.60 m" Lisbon with no stairs and no Rigsby around. Damn the man. Where the hell was he when she needed him the most? Probably somewhere eating or having fun with his new girlfriend- she should have reported him first time she understood they had christened the closet- and her old couch. She loved her ouch. And now, there was no way in hell she was going to sue it once again. Damn the man. And damn Jane.

Standing on tiptoes on the pile of books on a chair, Lisbon reached for the shelf, throwing the decorative red ribbon over there, grunting inside and silently when she failed to put it where she wanted; she tried once, twice, again and again, until she gave up, and decided to take the matter into her own hands, reaching directly for the angle she needed, elongating as much as she could to get there where she wanted to be.

All because Rigsby had made her puppy-dog eyes (and she couldn't say no to his puppy dog eyes, he looked too much like her own brother) and Cho had crossed his arms, silently, stoically looking at her when she had tried to question their idea of getting into Christmas to try to lift Van Pelt's morale a bit.

She was almost there, her fingertips already skimming over the fake wood, when something distracted her- her door suddenly was wide-open, and Jane entered, picked up the lock, slamming it against the wall, and corner of the chair she was currently balancing herself onto.

"Ehy, Lisbon, I put an excellent plain in motion to get Mrs. Weeds to confess and…" he hadn't ended the sentence that he was looking at her, desperately trying to find her balance on the tower of books (boring procedural and law enforcement manuals for sure) while like a scared, little, dark-haired, green eyed squeaking mouse. Trying…. And failing.

Even if he was ready (actually, he had merely mentally prepared himself) to take her once she was falling, Jane still manage to lose his equilibrium as well, falling on his back, when Lisbon landed on him, in a weird, awful, awkward position, her chest pressed against his own (arms tightened around his neck) and legs slightly turned on one side.; at the end he even hit, even if just slightly, his head against the cold pavement with a strong "thund" that reverberated through the silent office.

"Ouch…" he merely said, trying to bring his hand to massage his hurting scalp. Lisbon, though, as soon as she saw the predicament he was finding himself in, adjusted her position, and stopped Jane from moving further more for few minutes, scared by the possibility of having him amnesiac again, or worse.

"Jane, no, don't move, ok? Just… stay still. I'll call someone. Maybe we should get you checked up, I think I'll go and call an ambulance, just to make sure that you…" he made to wake up, but he stopped her by taking Lisbon for a wrist, and bringing her back to the pavement, avoiding her from leaving the spot she had landed on his body ; she looked at him quizzically, a raised eyebrow that raised furthermore almost reaching her hairline when she noticed that he was looking at everything in the room but her, and was…

Blushing. Patrick Jane, the man known to have almost zero moral, whom in another life venerated the "hippy, libertine lifestyle" in the bed department, the man who didn't know when to keep his mouth shut and closed, was blushing.

"I… uhm, I think that would get the wrong idea, if you call someone here now…." She looked at him once again quizzically, like a "what are you saying, Jane?" kind of expression, until she gasped when he motioned to their bodies with his head; just in that moment she saw what he meant.

Her shirt had escaped from the confines of her pants when she had tried to reach for the shelf, and the top buttons were free because the temperature in her office didn't want to hear about being something beside tropical. The red ribbon was cascading around her neck, on her chest, like her own dark, tussled hair; she was red and flustered because of the effort, slightly panting out of fear. But that wasn't the worst. All her things, she could easily explain them, but Jane's status, and her position, were another pair of sleeves.

She was, in fact, straddling him, her breasts to level with his face, and it was like she was riding him, in a very sexual position, a very sexual position Jane seemed to answer to, and if his current predicament was of any indication... he was definitely enjoying it a lot.

He was hard and erect beneath her body, and it made her shiver, hot wetness filling her inside and covering her tights in arousal so sharp and intense she could smell it; she groaned, biting her lips to avoid the sound to leave her mouth, almost tempted to cup his erection through his pants- she didn't, though, because if she knew Jane (which she did) he had probably avoided sexual contact with any woman since the traumatic event that had signed his very existence, and she knew a few things about basic male biology, and the difference between pleasuring themselves and being pleasured by a person you are attracted to; if she touched him now, after so many years without being touched by a woman's hand, a woman's body, he wasn't going to last, didn't matter if he had indulged in few hand-jobs of his own. She knew he couldn't resist her touch, wasn't going to last, would succumb to orgasm as soon as her fingers had touched him. So, taking pity on him, not wanting to make him come in his own pants, she resisted, already foretasting, though, her sexual harassment fantasies featuring them and her office floor.

His fingers reached shyly, almost scared, for the red ribbon, and started to play with it, while the other hand ventured towards her mouth, and Lisbon gladly, when he passed his thumb on her lower lip, took it in her mouth and sucked it, thinking of… well, another thing she wanted to do with him, something way more enjoyable than sucking fingers, but involving sucking nevertheless, sucking a very prominent part of his anatomy her rear was feeling hard and big pressed against her female body; he gasped, eyes wide with desire, and then… he threw he away, far, far away from him, and he run toward the stairs, in direction of his attic- Lisbon giggled like mad, imagining what he was probably doing right now, getting rid of his clothes and jerking off completely naked while standing in front of the huge window from where that part of Sacramento was almost completely visible.

She sighed, pouting a little, regretting not being there with him, to see him naked, hearing the sound he made when he was delirious with want and in the throes of passion – to screw him at night, there, with the landscape of the lights of Christmassy Sacramento embraced by dark… too bad it didn't snow in that part of California, she would have enjoyed being snowed him somewhere, making love in front of a fireplace while they could see the snow falling from a window, their skins enlightened by the lights of the Christmas tree under whom they were going at it.

Sitting Indian style on the pavement, Lisbon grinned, giggling like a drunken and silly schoolgirl, biting her right index, almost sure that Jane hadn't escaped because his traitorous body wanted her while his conscious mind didn't, but because he did craved her sinful and lust-filled attentions, but wasn't ready to admit it- or maybe, he hadn't been ready to until his huge erection had showed up at her benefit.

She absently played with the loose ribbon around her neck, testing its texture between her fingers, against the skin of her neck, until she bit her lips.

She hadn't solved the problem of the decorations, but at least, now, she knew what getting Jane...

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The time he had told Lisbon she was supposed to embrace the Christmas spirit instead if being her Grinch self, he was lying. Partly, at least.

Standing in a corner, trying to melt and at the same time to hid in plain sight at the CBI annual Christmas party, Jane understood that he probably couldn't stand the festivity as much as she did, being it just another day on the calendar for them- her, away from her family and unable to reach them, him, alone, his own family long gone. And besides… besides, Christmas wasn't any longer Christmas. He had never had a true one, sharing because you want to, a gift from the heart, being raised by his own father, and nowadays… nowadays, when children wrote their letters, they asked for a mobile when they were six, along with all possible kind of extra-modern toys.

He was almost sure Teresa had never wrote to Santa Claus. Being her strictly believer, she maybe wrote to the holy child himself, like he knew in many countries they still did, or maybe St. Lucy, or the "original" version of Santa, Saint Nicholas- saints, who provided love, affection, a bit of money, small toys and candies and special foods for the children, and not a caricature created by a mark of beverage.

Oh, he almost liked Catholics right now. At least, few of them still thought about Christmas being just that- Christmas, and not the holy celebration of the consumerism society like, for example, Saint Valentine. And Lisbon, being her Saint Teresa self, was certainly among them.

He looked around one last time, carefully trying to see if someone was paying attention to him, which they weren't, and moved, slowly but not too slow, quickly but not too quick, towards the stairs, destination his beloved attic. He couldn't stand that place any longer, drunken man behaving like Neanderthals and hitting on women who didn't want to have anything to do with them, women who were throwing themselves at him without shame, rubbing their bodies against his front in a manner that was everything but equivocal.

Good thing he could get his body to do as he wanted, and that, mostly, he was almost completely virtually impotent- almost completely because there was still one woman his body answered to, since that sinful siren masked as a saint still had the power to make his friend standing all tall, happy and proud, and now…

Now, Lisbon knew it, and despite the fact that since their accident he had avoided her, not knowing how to deal with the fact that now she knew there was nothing he wanted more than screwing her senseless on her office floor, he still carved her company, since she was the only one with a few moral left there… Van Pelt killing Sara with her glares, Sara reciprocating the favor, Rigsby getting all hot and bothered because of the both of them and unable to decide whom he was supposed to bring home, if the girlfriend or the redhead or maybe both if he was lucky enough and they were wasted in the right way, and Cho… well, he wasn't exactly ok with Cho. He hadn't been perfect, and in youth he had been quite the libertine, but he had been always honest and had a moral- if he was into a relationship, he was completely into it and wasn't going to sleep around, something that he was willing to do only when he was single and not interested in someone in particular. Cho, on the other hand, was still officially seeing Elise, but, meanwhile, he was almost sure that the Korean had indulged into Summer's company more than once, principally in hotel bedrooms.

Lisbon, instead… Lisbon was faithful and loyal, and found horrible women trying to steal other women's men… she had even renounced to him, knowing, feeling that he still belonged to another one, even if she wanted him….He hit his head against the cold material of the attic door, thinking back at the day of the accident, when he had been able to smell her arousal, so intense and sharp through her clothes while she was straddling him.

And Lisbon was nowhere in sight, vanished from that hideous and sophomoric party from… well, now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure Lisbon had been there for just minutes, exchanging few gifts and formalities and then… nothing. Smart woman. He should have followed her example a long time ago. Like, 5 minutes after the party had started.

He sighed, and once again his forehead collided, slowly and delicately, with the metallic surface of the door; it was then that he saw something, a small object on the floor, leaking from under the door, took his attention. He kneed, and took it between two fingers, feeling the delicate texture and scented fragrance, inhaling it deeply: it was the scarlet petal of a rose, and he was adamant that, last time he had been in the attic in the afternoon before the party, it hadn't been there.

He peeked under the door, and he got a sense of what was going on in the cavern of his- more petals were scattered all around the room, and a trembling light was filling the ambient, creating quite the atmosphere- candles, maybe?

He gulped down a mouthful of saliva, thinking about everything that was maybe happening- or going to happen – on the other side of the door; he cursed under his teeth, for the gun Max Winter had given him was under the mattress, nowhere close to where he was probably going to need it. Red John or one of his friends? Erica Flynn, recently released from prison? A relative of someone he put behind bars? It didn't matter, though, even if he didn't have any kind of advantage. What it mattered, was that he felt the need to know… curiosity killed the cat, he thought while he slowly opened the door, ready to face whoever was going to threaten him with those strange messages on the other side.

…and curiosity definitely killed him, he somehow managed to think as the surprise left him with a watering, wide-open mouth. For that, sitting at crossed legs on his makeshift bed, stood a giggling Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon, soft, dark and glossy hair arranged in ringlets cascading on her shoulders, back and chest, perfect make up with dark red lips and golden eye-shadow; on her petite but yet extremely feminine and erotic body, sexy dark red silk and black lace lingerie was showing off just for him – a small thong, wet on her groin with her arousal, a push-up bra, that seemed to make her breasts explode, and a garter belt, adorned with sinful fishnets. To add injury to the injured, she had wrapped herself up for him, her red ribbon, the one from the incident, fashioned around her neck like she was present, served on a silver plate for him to taste and enjoy on Christmas morning.

He got hard in seconds, his erection visible through his clothes, almost escaping the confines of his pants. He wanted her, oh, how much he wanted her… and no matter what, he was going to take her this time, and hard. There was no need to run this time, they were all alone in his attic, nobody was going to spot them or even over-hear them, since they were all pretty wasted... they could even be as loud as they wanted to be. And man, was he loud!

He slowly walked towards her across the candles and the road of petals, grinning and licking his lips, hands in his pockets, so that he was pushing slightly upward his erection, putting it on display for her, all the while without stopping to look at her eyes; he reached her, and, like that day, but this time with malice and intention, he started to play with the ribbon at her neck, without, though, undoing it.

"You don't want to unwrap your present, Mister Jane?" she asked him maliciously, brining a candy cane to her moth and sucking it sinfully between her lips, mimicking the way she had sucked his finger – and was going to suck his hard-on in few minutes' time if she was a lucky and good girl. She had a pretty good impression that he was quite agreeing with her idea, because he couldn't stop to look at her lips. Was he thinking about her lipstick on his cock, she wondered? Besides…. She had seen how he had reacted to her calling him "Mr. Jane"…. looks like dirty games turned on her sexy and well-hung consultant.

"Meh, I'm like a cat. I've always liked ribbons to play with. The paper" he told her, eyeing her underwear with intent "it's a completely different matter. Shall we?" he offered her his hands, and forced her to stand on her feet, and inspected her from all sides, walking around her frame while she kept sucking her candy; when she was almost done, Jane still focused on her forms, she swallowed the rest of the sweetness in her mouth without flinching, then, she turned to look at him.

"Well, I guess I'll have to do it on my own.." she told him, her hands already aiming for her font clasp; Jane, though, run to her, and stopped the woman from taking the pleasure away from his own hands, and he slowly opened the clasp, and in the same way he slid the bra off from her shoulders, freeing her breasts from their prison, letting the full, soft mounds free to bounce as he liked them to.

"I'm sorry agent Lisbon, but, you see, I was merely looking for a way to remove that thong of yours without actually removing the garter belt and the fishnets…" his hands slowly and sensually mapped her whole body, fingertips dancing on her boiling skin while her breath turned erratic, wetness suturing her panties. His hands stopped there, on her hips, at the waistband of her lingerie, one for side, and he started to inspection the texture of the fabric, until she heard just a sound, a "thund" from each side of her body, and when she looked at him with pupils wide with desire, she saw him grinning, and brining her ripped panties to his nose to smell her arousal before putting them into his pockets for future reference.

Damn, she didn't know if getting wetter at the sight or glaring at him. She had spent a fortune in lingerie as his present, and she even liked this particular set, was already fond of it. And he had ripped them without second guessing his idea or considering what she may have thought about it.

"Well, know that I considered all the possible scenarios, and this was the only way I could get you out of this thing without having to waste time in removing and then putting back on the garter" he got closer to her, managing what was actually an hard task, leaving almost no trace of space between their bodies; their chests were actually pressed together, her already hard nipples scratching against the rough texture of his vest.

Too many clothes, he was wearing too many clothes, while she was already fully naked- at least where it mattered. It just wasn't right.

Clouded by desire, her idle fingers went at work, looking for his buttons, she started to undone them but lust made her slow, made her tremble, and besides, Jane didn't seem to want to hear any of it. She was somehow disappointed that he didn't want to relinquish the command to her for once, because that has been what the gift had been about, but Jane, being Jane, wanted to have his fun first. And his fun, was giving her the fun she deserved.

He stilled her movements placing his hands around her wrists, and when she stopped, slowly, very slowly, he traced her arms with his touch; arrived at her shoulder, one hand descended along her back, tracing her spine with his index finger alone, while the other one took the opposite direction, gazing the tender skin oh her breasts while he cupped them, one fist, the other later, and then stopping on her groin.

Her breath got erratic when he got closer, his lips hot on her neck as he kissed and nipped the skin there, soothing the pain with licks of his able tongue; he bit her lobe, in the same instant his finger started to draw invisible patterns on her folds, teasing her entrance; she felt her knees turning to jelly even if he hadn't touched her that much yet, and used his shoulders for support.

"If you like it so much, I'll buy you a new tongue, but you'll not have to use it with this garter, otherwise, Lisbon, I'll be obliged to use my brute force once again…" he whispered on her skin, biting yet again her skin. She moaned out loud, and felt him grinning.

He took advantage of her surprise and her confusion to insert two fingers inside her, his thumb pressing on her clot, the whole arc of his hand at work to make her come while he moved his fingers inside her craving body, long fingers curled inside her and moving fast and hard, his skilled writs adjusting the position enough to make her come with just few touches.

He skillfully fingered Lisbon for less than a couple of minutes, before he felt her walls collapsing around his fingers, her warm juices covering his hand, wetting his shirt, in the instant she muffled her cry by biting in the collar of his shirt.

Freed his hand, he threw her on the bed in quite a carless way, her back against the cool surface of the mattress. He stood in front of her, licking his hand clean, thanking whoever invented the women that allowed them to have multiple orgasms without the need to recovery.

He stood, he grinned at her, quite evil and malicious, and while he feasted on the sight of Teresa Lisbon on his bed, naked, legs wide open for him for the taking, he got naked as well, slowly stripping for his lover. A torture it was, he knew it, but he knew also Lisbon, and his boss…. Oh, she was enjoying the show all right, if her breathing was any indication. Hands on his hips, he pushed them forward, putting his huge erection on better display just for her. "So, tell me, Lisbon, how would you prefer to go at it? I'm taking suggestion, even if I don't guarantee I'll follow them…"

She pouted, her small but yet full lips forming a perfect O, and he smirked, reading her idea too well. An idea he didn't want to follow, couldn't follow, not now, at least. "Oh, uhm, let me think about it… nope. Forget it, Lisbon, today you'll not suck me dry. There's no way that feeling you mouth around my cock will allow me to last enough to make you happy!"

Carelessly again, he moved to the bed, and threw her again, and once she was resting on her belly, he rearranged her legs and arms, and positioned himself at her back, his cock teasing her entrance from behind; Lisbon whimpered, silently asking him to fill her, her ass moving to encourage him to take her once and for all. He took her for her hips, hold so forceful he knew there were going to be bruises, and with a quick and forceful stroke, he entered her to the hilt, his balls hitting her back.

She gasped at the first penetration, her teeth tightened to avoid screaming, and even if it looked like, felt like, he was leaving no space inside her at all, she still kept moving, meeting him thrust for thrust, until it got too much and she came, biting the fabric covering the bed while all the lights disappeared in front of her and nothing existed for few minutes as Jane kept getting bigger and bigger inside her body, and to each thrust, another stronger one followed, until she collapsed on the bed like a ragdoll, her legs tucked beneath her body, Jane sitting between her spread legs, he kept pumping into her with vigor, ramming his cock inside her body, meeting the resistance of her clenching walls, her tiny entrance, so small, just like her….

After he come hissing her name between clenching teeth, he kept pumping into her still convulsing body, thrusting into her coming core, his cock covered with their mixed juices. So much come, both from him and from her, that it was too much for Lisbon. He filled her behind any reason, his seed escaping from her core in rivulets, marking her skin.

Unable to keep managing screwing her this way, his cock now soft, he pulled out of her, leaving a trail of hot semen on her skin, his last spur falling on her thighs, getting her stocking dirty; once free from his vigorous lovemaking, she turned on her back, and grinning mischievously, started to play with what was left of him on her body: she covered her whole body with his seed, and, with a sudden inspiration, she started fingering herself right before the eyes of the man, sat on the edge of the bed still exhausted.

Jane, though, looked at her merely quizzically. Lisbon was lazily fingering herself, she wasn't creaming herself, didn't want to come for him with her own fingers. Her objective was another one, and he got it as soon as he saw her taking her fingers and sucking them: she was tasting the both of them on her lips through her own fingers, through their comes.

She released her fingertips with a pop, and then looked at him in the eyes. "So, what about Round Two?"

Christmas wasn't over yet and his cock was hardening again. Frankly, she couldn't wait to exchange few other gifts with him.