Author's Note: Sequel to "Redolent of Passion". Kink Meme prompt: "Blindfold, anywhere but in a bed".

A/N-2: This has been edited to make it less explicit and more in line with FFN standards. The original, more steamy version can be found at Archive of Our Own archiveofourown_org/ works/ 350955 (Change the _ to a . and delete the extraneous spaces).

She was up to something. It didn't take the skills of a mentalist to realize that the impish grin meant something more interesting than usual was going on inside her skull. He had yet to suss out what, precisely, she was up to. But there was zero accompanying pique so it was no petty revenge for any fuss or bother he had caused. And the hint of guilt was miniscule enough that Irish/Catholic "anything pleasurable must be wrong" guilt fully accounted for it.

So it must be something that she was planning to enjoy immensely that would cause no discomfort to one else. Although he had seen a very similar grin on a Thursday and Friday when she bought extra butter movie theater style microwave popcorn and the ingredients for making fudge on the Wednesday, and proceeded to sit him down for a Cary Grant movie marathon on AMC lasting on into the small hours of Saturday morning, this seemed more intense. Time would tell if it would be as long-lasting, or if the higher intensity also indicated a shorter-range plan.

Jane kept his thoughts on his personal imp to himself throughout the day. At 7:30 that evening, however, when the rest of the team had been gone for at least forty-five minutes, he could wait no longer. She was in her office, getting ready to go home.

He went to her doorway, and called to her, "Lisbon, you look ravishing with that secretive smile on your face. So tell me, what delight are you contemplating?"

"Oh, no. In this case, it's better to show you."

"Really? You have me intrigued. Are you going to show me now?"

"Hmm, I don't think so. You'll have to wait until we get back to my place."

"I'm ready to go."

"Why don't you go pick up supper at Szechuan Palace - I need to get to the dry cleaner's before they close at 8."

"You want your usual?"

"Surprise me."

"Very adventurous, Agent Lisbon. If I didn't know better, I would think you were being deliberately provocative."

"Maybe you don't know better."

"Maybe I want to."

"We'll just have to see about that."

By 8:30, they were cozied up together on the couch, watching Big Bang Theory and eating Szechuan-style Dragon and Phoenix and home-style bean curd. And a little while after that they were cooling their mouths on some frozen custard from an out-of-the way stand that Jane frequented. When they cleared the dishes and put away the leftovers, he turned to her and said, "Are you ready to show me what's had you grinning so conspiratorially since the middle of the afternoon?"

"It's a surprise. You'll have to put a blindfold on."

"How are you going to show me if I can't see?"

"It takes a lot of trust in someone to let them blindfold you. It's perfectly alright to say no, Patrick, if you aren't comfortable with it." Her tone of voice was light, hinting at no weighted judgment for his choice.

"Reverse psychology, Teresa? On me?"

"I wouldn't try to kid a kidder. It was a simple statement of truth. The choice is all up to you."

"Then you'll let me see your surprise without covering my eyes to get it?"

"Oh, no. No blindfold, no surprise."

"Teresa - "

"Patrick, this is not a test of your faith in me. This is not going to determine the future of our relationship. There are layers of trust that come with a blindfold that have nothing at all to do with what's between us. If you want to do it, I'll make it worth your while. If you don't, I still won't kick you out of bed for eating crackers."

"Very reassuring, thank you. What, exactly, are your plans for me?"

"To put the blindfold on - it's a sleep mask actually - then lead you upstairs to the bedroom, and have my wicked way with you."

"This is your payback for the handcuffs?"

"It's not payback," she said as she grinned wickedly. "It's an another opportunity to address the same issues."

"Fair enough. Do your worst."

"Oh, no. I'll do my best," she said with the most tantalizingly sensual smile growing on her face.

He growled. She put the sleep mask in his hand. He put it on, and she inspected it. Adjusting it a bit to ensure full coverage, she said, "Let me take your hand. I'll go slowly, and you can trail your other hand along the counter and the wall to help."

"I'm ready."

Her hand in his, they made their way up to their bedroom. In spite of a couple of faltering steps he didn't trip or fall. Once there, she reached up and guided his face down to hers to kiss him. They kissed deeply for some minutes, her hands tangled in his hair, her attention focussed on promising very thorough love-making in their immediate future. One of his hands caressed the back of her neck, that sensitive spot under her hair. His touch was feather-light, causing her whole body to shiver with heat. His other hand had pulled her shirttail out of her pants, and was gently tracing the skin at the small of her back.

"Patrick?"

"Yes?"

"Strip me."

He complied, making short work of the buttons of her shirt, and the fly of her pants. He skillfully undid her bra, then pushed pants and panties down at the same time. She stepped out of them, standing before him in her bare skin. At another time, a command like that might have resulted in greater speed, even roughness. But for now, he focused on efficiency. He reached for her, running his hands over her sides, and then her back. She reached for his head again, kissing him breathlessly. He was no stranger to her skin, but with his sight limited, he used his fingertips to take in her loveliness. Fingers traced over her bottom, tickled the skin over her ribs, caressing and stroking her chest. She felt an unexpected vulnerability at being bared in this way. But it was part of what she planned. She knew better than anyone that his clothing was armor. Generously wanting to offer him some balance of power, she gave up her own first as a gesture of good faith.

He did not consciously notice the politics of bare skin, being absorbed in the feel of her. "Do you know how lovely you are? It's hard, not being able to look."

She held his head in one hand, meeting his lips over and over again, not delving into his mouth, but brushing her lips against his sensuously. Her other hand stroked down his neck, over his shirt. As she traced down his front to skim her hand over the front of his pants, he said, "This is where you're supposed to say something banal about other things being hard."

"I'll pass. Take off your clothes."

"Yes, my Queen." With even more efficiency than he had shucked her of her garments, he peeled out of his own.

"Let's move to the bed."

He held out his hand for her to lead him. She helped him successfully navigate their piles of clothing and sit down safely. Then she stepped back from him.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Just picking up our clothes. I'm not going far."

"Please don't make me wait like last time." He sounded for a moment like a lonely child. "If you don't come back soon, I'm taking the mask off and coming after you."

"I'm hanging up your vest, now. And I promise the longest you will have to wait for me is a trip to the bathroom. I'm done picking up our clothes. And," she considered for a moment, picked up the remote for her sound system, then continued, "I'm going to the bathroom now. I'm turning on some music for you. If I'm not back by the start of the second song, you can take the mask off."

It was a jazz CD from his collection. Ella and the Duke would keep him good company. He lay back, with his fingers interlaced behind his head.

When she returned, she covered him with her body and kissed him on the mouth. Then she trailed her lips along his jaw, and mouthed his earlobe. As she nuzzled his neck, her hand stroked his chest, circling his little nipples, then gliding down his abdomen. He caught her hand in his.

"Do you trust me, Patrick?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Then let me do this." Lisbon backed away from him. She took his hand and commanded, "Stand up."

He obeyed.

"Hmm. Your choice - will you keep your feet better leaning against the wall, or in the doorway where you can grip the frame with both hands?"

"Wall." He sounded so surprised, the word came out almost as a squeak. "I think. Woman, what are you planning to do to me?"

"Patience. It will lead to good things, I promise." She guided him back to stand against wall then pressed her lips to his for a brief kiss. "You can hold onto my shoulders, but if you touch my head, I will walk away. You are between the night stand and the corner. You should be able to reach the other wall if you really need to steady yourself."

She moved her body down, hands and lips skimming over his chest and abdomen. She kneeled in front of him, she opened her mouth and took him in. Tongue swirling, she had just enough capsaicin from their spicy meal left in her mouth to produce a tingling warmth with only the barest hint at pain. Patrick put his hands on her shoulders gripping more tightly as she worked. He took deep draughts of air into his lungs while she brought him closer to the edge of orgasm. He warned her when the time came, but she kept her lips around him. After he came into her mouth, she straightened up and kissed his belly, releasing the slippery fluid onto his skin.

"Take your blindfold off now," she commanded. He did as she said and watched as she slid her fingers over his abdomen, playing with the sensual essence of his pleasure, drawing designs over his skin with it.

She was a masterpiece of wantonness when she looked up to meet his eyes, her hair falling over her shoulders, providing only tantalizing glimpses of her breasts. The mischievous smirk from earlier in the day had trebled its intensity to full delighted triumph.

"Teresa, you've never been so beautiful. Let me be your humble slave forever." He reached a hand down to help her up.

She laughed, put her hand in his, and stood up. "Forever? No, but for now, put your silver tongue to use."

"As you wish," he said solemnly. "Come sit on the bed."

He brought her face to his for a sweet kiss, urging her down on the bed in front of him. He coaxed her knees apart to kneel down between them. He suckled at her breasts, gently stroking with tongue and with fingers. When he had her humming and moaning in pleasure, he let one hand trail down to her core to tease her there. His mouth followed his hand down her body, lips brushing gently over her skin. The other hand pushed her back so she lay down with her legs hanging off the edge of the bed. Soon his fingers grounded her with a rhythm, pressing against her aroused flesh. He used his tongue, barest of touches setting fire to her senses. The sweet hot tingling burned down her legs to the soles of her feet, and made her whole body shiver in her orgasm. He slowed his movements, allowing her to come down from the heights. He got up. As he did so, he ran his hands all over her skin from legs to abdomen then chest and arms, reintegrating her consciousness and sending a message of warmth and safety to body and heart. He helped her move up onto the bed, kissing her lips and lying down with her. Still stunned beyond language, she ran her fingers through his hair and put all the sweetness she could in her returning kiss.

He lay on his side, his head resting on one shoulder. The other arm he wrapped around her, and tangled one leg between hers. Neither fell asleep immediately, but they basked in each other's warmth and drifted away on their own thoughts, the soothing Blues saxophone in the background tethering them together.