Title: Mistakes of the skin, faith of the heart

Summary: She was the first one to know that she was saying that just because she was supposed to, and not because she actually meant the words. And as much she knew that it was against regulations, as much as she knew that one day she was probably going to regret it, she couldn't have it now. Loving that much, wishing to save a soul, him, it couldn't be a mistake. Even if it wasn't strictly right.

Author :Little_firestar84
Rating: t
Characters: Jane/Lisbon

Disclaimer: Nope. No way. I'm not affiliated with them. And I don't own them.

Notes: written for the february challenge at PIR. Prompt: Kiss.

"We shouldn't do this..." she pouted, almost in a childish-like manner, and in answer, he laughed something resembling a giggle against her neck as he kept leaving butterfly kisses on her skin.

She wasn't fooling him.

She was the first one to know that she was saying that just because she was supposed to, and not because she actually meant the words.

Not that she was really caring about protocol in that particular moment. Protocol, actually, was the last thing on her mind. If there was actually something in her mind right then besides the man in front of her.

It was an hard task, concentrating when Patrick Jane was nibbling her lobe, licking and sucking the tender and sensitive skin then (how he could know that it was one of her erogenous zones, it was a mystery. But after all, he was the Patrick Jane), his hands delicate on her body, and yet adventurous. He was being tentative, and she didn't know if it was because he thought they were doing a mistake, or because, like her, he was simply feeling too much, suddenly.

And as much she knew that it was against regulations... as much as she knew that one day she was probably going to regret it... she couldn't have it now.

Loving that much... wishing to save a soul... him... it couldn't be a mistake. Even if it wasn't strictly right.

(Besides, she didn't want to die, or let him slip through her fingers, wondering what if.)

She gripped him for his curls, and forced him to turn just enough his face, and when they were finally eyes in the eyes, she brought him closer, until she crashed her lips on his own. She surprised him, and it took him a short while to understand what exactly was happening, but the instant she licked his lips with the tip of her tongue, pretending access...

He lost all semblance of control, completely.

He walked her backward toward her desk, and without breaking for a single instant the kiss, he crashed everything that stood in his way, and then he made her seat there, his tentative touches turned into frenzy and erratic, needy. She answered in kind, moaning in his mouth, and trying to touch him as much as he was touching her, trying desperately to get rid of layer after layer of fabric that stood between them and ecstasy.

Then, suddenly, he made a movement that nobody was supposed to after turning forty, and when he hit a particularly painful angle with his knee, he came back to his senses. Dead in track, he stared at her in shock and awe, taking in her disheveled look, without saying a single word.

"Right" she said at low voice, filling the gap of communication on her own, re-arranging her clothes without daring to look at him. Not that she could blame him. She had tried to stop him, after all. It wasn't his fault if, in the meanwhile, she had changed idea...

He bit his lips, and looked at everything but her, shifting his weight on his heels. "So..." he started, but she abruptly interrupted him.

"It's all right, I mean, I've already forgotten... Not really forgotten, but, you know... we just... got carried away. In consolatory each other. That's all. So... yeah, forgotten."

"You know, you are adorable when you deny that you liked it. And that you want more..." he grinned like the Cheshire cat, finally meeting her eyes. But this time, it was Lisbon who avoided his gaze.

Part of her wanted to tell him that she didn't actually regretted it, wanted to admit that he was a pretty good kisser (great, actually) and that yes, she wanted more kisses and so, so much more than kisses... but she couldn't. It wasn't good for his already gigantic ego, and it wasn't a smart move for her career- and her job in general.

Besides, she wasn't going to embarrass herself by begging him for a quickie, not when he had been the one to retreat.

Just as she thought so, he sensed her insecurities, and understood what was going on in her mind, all her fears, all her insecurities, and what she was thinking in that precise instant.

It's just sex.

I'm just a rebound.

He'll never love me.

I'm just a pawn. He just wants to use me.

I'll always be second best.

I'll never be as important as revenge.

He'll break my heart.

He looked at her, tenderly, and cupped her face with both hands; she gasped at the sudden contact, and her eyes fell on his gaze. In his green-bluish orbs, she could see, maybe for the first time since she had met him a decade before, all his feelings, all his thoughts.

She saw love and affection, tenderness, and desire, a desire so strong that went beyond the lust, bordering on pure, adulterated longing.

For her.

Smiling, lost in their own world, in their embarrassment, she finally gave up, and allowed him to cuddle her asleep on the couch-their couch, opting for tenderness and affection instead of quick, hard sex filled merely with lust.

If that was a mistake, she didn't mind repeating it as long as needed to learn her lesson.