Fanfic - The Mentalist
Title: Knowing
Fandom: The Mentalist
Pairing: Jane/Lisbon
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Orgionally written for The Mentalist Kink Meme for the Jane as Dom prompts. Criteria was : It's interesting that for what little D/s stuff involving Jane seems to exist in the fandom, he seems to always be the sub of the pairing. I don't care who he's paired with, but I have a major hankering for a dark "Jane-as-Dom" (let's face it, he'd be SO damn good at it) fics - with bonus points if:
- there's talking dirty involved
- there's talking the sub down using one or more of Jane's psychological manipulation tricks
- there's humiliation involved
- there's dub-con with something along the lines of a disbelieving "you're going to try to tell ME, of all people, that you don't want this?" from Jane somewhere in the fic
Authors Note: This is ever so slightly changed from the orgional version as I went back and tweaked anything that I thought needed it.
“Fuck you Jane!”
Jane smacked her across the face again and chuckled as he saw her recoil in pain. It had hurt, a lot. There was something about the way a man could smack a woman across the cheek, the pain and humiliation just couldn't compare. She hated him, and he knew it. But that was part of the allure, for both of them. Part of why they both kept coming back here. Here to this cheap motel room that smelled of stale cigarettes and sex. But that was the one thing that wasn’t in Jane's control. The only thing.
He chose when to accept the key that had been slipped in his pocket. He chose the time, showing up when he damn well pleased. Laying there on the company couch looking completely content and uninterested as she burned holes into the top of his head while she walked out at the end of the day. One of those days. One would think that after all this time he would take pity on her, knowing why and what drew her to these encounters. To him. But he had no pity for her. If she was stupid enough to get involved with him she deserved what she got.
“You’re a foolish woman. A smart woman, but a foolish one. Even now, after all this time you’re still thinking that you can save me. That if you just let me beat you and fuck you enough I’ll fall crying to your arms and just let it all go. But you’re wrong and you know it. I’m much too far gone to be capable of that.” He kept pacing back and forth, hands behind his back in that most annoying of ways.
“And yet here we are again. You’re a glutton for punishment, but it’s your other issues we’re working on tonight.” she laughed then and he stilled, letting the anger build up inside him. “You think I have issues Jane, do tell…”
He didn’t strike her, that would only be a reward, admitting to her that she had in fact successfully baited him with her words. He’ll back hand her later when she wasn’t expecting it and wouldn’t connect it with this moment.
“You’re in over your head in this job. You can’t control the people above you, can‘t control the people below you, you sure as hell can‘t control me, can’t even keep your own paperwork in order. You’re a failure, and it’s only a matter of time before your superiors recognize that and dismiss you.” He undid his tie and slipped it off from around his neck. He never wore a tie. Except for now. For this. For her. Walking over to her he tied it around her eyes, blinding her. She didn’t resist, she wouldn’t have even if her hands hadn’t been handcuffed above her. He’d done that. Him not her. It was another thing he demanded from her if these sessions were to continue, that he alone get to tie her up.
He had stressed the ‘him alone’ part as soon as they’d started this. She knew what it meant. That he couldn’t, wouldn’t stop her from perusing a romantic, even sexual relationship with someone else; but this belonged to him. If she wanted to get off like this with him, she was agreeing to only come to him for it. He had laughed at her when she’d agreed so readily. She’d smacked him, but it hadn’t helped. He was only worse to her later because of it.
“Then of course there’s the self-loathing. That’s the real reason why you keep coming.” She scoffed at him, the sound telling plainly just how full of it she thought he was. He was used to that sound. He’d heard it all day long. He wasn’t going to hear it tonight.
“I can leave now, if you’re uninterested in my insight. I’ve done it before and you know I’m capable.” He was, even if he’d only went so far as to sit out in his car in the parking lot. He wondered if she knew he wouldn’t go that far, was incapable of it. The fact was that he didn’t know whether she knew that about him. He couldn’t read her on that. It was moments like these that she infuriated him the most. He was in charge, he was in control. How dare she try to one up him. How dare she try to know him. He went over and swiped his suit jacket from off the bed, making sure she would be able to hear the scraping of the material against the comforter.
“Jane wait.” she said, a hint of panicked whining in her voice. “Don’t go please. I’m sorry.” He put the jacket back down and continued.
He spoke to her in his same, usual, calm tone of voice; knowing very well that it drove her mad, that she couldn’t get the reactions out of him she wanted. She did in fact get a reaction out of him. That was what the blindfold was for. The sex was supposed to be pity on his part, or humiliation; forcing himself in her body as he had her mind. This is what he’d manipulated her to think and would see she kept thinking. She didn’t need to know the pain he was in with his erection straining for access to her. Didn’t need to know how many times he’d stood in front of her stroking himself. And she especially didn’t need to know how more than anything he just wanted to take her gently in a soft bed while she purred and mewed under him. She had never offered him that. And he wouldn’t dare ask her for it. Then she would know his weakness. And that was most defiantly against the rules.
He did this for her. Manipulative bastard that he was, he wasn’t nearly as cold hearted about it as everyone, especially her, seemed to think. He knew he could love her, knew that she wanted to love him. Which is why he did this in the first place, to nip it in the bud. He was too selfish to quit his hunt for vengeance, even for her. And when then day came where he would need to be taken down like the rabid dog he’d become he needed to now that she could survive doing it. Not that she wouldn’t anyway, but this way was kinder too her. If she remembered that she had hated him more than she had loved him, and if she never knew he had loved her in the first place.
He went over to her then, suddenly, as he always did; and stuck two fingers up inside her. She shuddered and lurched her hips away and told him a distinct no. "You're going to try to tell ME, of all people, that you don't want this?” he said with another demeaning chuckle. “The evidence is all over you.” he reached out and ran his free hand up the inside of her thigh which had a distinct trail of wetness running down it. “And you’re all about the evidence, aren’t you Lisbon.” Indeed, that’s what they’d been arguing about today. Evidence.
He undid his pants then, just enough to pull himself out. He refused to undress for her, even if they slept in the bed afterwards. It was what she wanted and he wouldn’t give her that. What he did give her was hard and fast, a restless pounding between her legs while all the while he continued to speak to her in that manipulative know-it-all tone that royally pissed her off even now while he was making her insides shudder.
It wasn’t the fact that he called her names. Pathetic, bitch, dirty, slut. Words by themselves she could ignore. It was the way he managed to make them all true. She was pathetic because she was his boss and had allowed him to handcuff her to a light fixture, again; while she begged him, her employee, to fuck her harder. She was a bitch because she had to be, had to fight him, control him, all day long. She was dirty for the very reason that she was there, letting him do this to her. And she was a slut precisely because she kept coming back for more. So really, even she knew there were far worse things he could have called her while he slammed himself inside her without regards to her comfort or pleasure. And those things would have been true too.
He back handed her then, just like he swore to himself he would. Her muscles clamped down on him and he chuckled heavily in her ear. It was kinky that she got off on such things, but it was cold of him to make fun of her about it. Especially when he was getting off on it too. So she leaned over to his throat and bit the most tender skin she could find. He shot off then, uncontrollably. And while he rode out his orgasm she leaned into his ear. “Now who’s the bitch.” she said in her low sex kitten voice. He was, he knew he was. She knew it too though he’d never give her the benefit of admitting it. As soon as he was done he took the key out of pocket and undid one of the handcuffs, only one, and yanked her unceremoniously across the room. He threw her roughly on the bed and hooked the cuffs through the headboard before securing her wrist once more. He spread her legs open painfully wide and went at her roughly with his hand, as many fingers as he could force in. He was already hard again but didn’t dare, there was no way that feeling him again, so hard so soon wouldn’t be ammunitation for her. Especially since she hadn’t come yet. She had to think that the only reason for that was that he wasn’t letting her. Not that he was so easy to get off. For her. She especially couldn’t know that! She went wild on his hand and he knew he should have stopped her, controlled her. But between the feeling, sight, and smell of her so desperate to get herself off on his hand he was forced to satisfy himself with his free one. He cursed as he came again, not being able to tune out his senses which try as he might refused to focus on anything but her. Her skin flinched where the liquid landed on her. But it wasn’t a recoil, just an autonomic response. He pulled his hand from her. Humiliated with his lack of control he plopped down on his back beside her on the bed. She growled then, knowing he was laying there satisfied and she was still suffering.
He wasn’t as satisfied as she thought however. He was never sure just what Lisbon knew or did not know. His greatest defense with her was getting to her before she got to him. And if she in the least suspected that it wasn’t selfishness but pure unadulterated desire for her that drove him wild then he’d would have done the exact opposite of what he kept coming here to do.
As it was she didn’t know. And even if she had she would have known better than to think he would change his agenda for her. No, she could see the day plainly coming where she’d have to take him out. And then she would be the one in charge, she’d be the one to spill his blood and finally end his suffering. Because she also know that only a bullet in the head would do the job. Torturing and killing Red John would never be enough for him. But she didn’t think of that now. Their sessions together were not the place for that. In fact they were the only place where she gave herself permission not to think about it, or anything else. Here there was only her and Jane and the ache in her core.
“Jane, please.” she whined, crossing and uncrossing her legs in an attempt to relive the ache. She was beautiful, especially when she whined and Jane rolled over onto his side and stroked her. He could do it tenderly now, because she was so frustrated that now even tenderness was torture for her. It was for him too. Because in the end she was right and always had been, which is why he hated her so. It would be better, nicer, to just put Red John away. Vengeance brought nothing good, he wasn’t so far gone he didn’t know the truth of that. And if he could do that, he knew, than he could have her. His gift from God for all the fucked up stuff that had happened to him since he was old enough to remember. But it wasn’t that easy, and there wasn’t a God. He couldn’t let it go, wouldn’t let it go. Which is why he didn’t deserve Lisbon how he wanted her and why he was more than glad to do whatever it was they were doing. The first time he’d had her pinned against a wall, called her a smart ass little bitch, and forced his hand up her skirt had been salvation for him. They had only been fighting, at work no less, and so her soaked crotch and jutting hips had been the most perfect thing he could have ever asked her. Because now she wasn’t his boss, she was a dirty little girl who was soaking wet from arguing with him over a case in her office. He had her and she knew it.
“What do you want Lisbon?” he asked now as he asked then.
“Please Jane, don’t.” she whined again as before.
“I’ll fuck you Lisbon, but you have to ask me for it.” Now there was no hesitation, no shock on either of their parts. The first time he was sure that he’d been more shocked at her response then she had been at his prompting.
“I want you to fuck me Jane.” He didn’t sigh in relief, he never had, though he’d always wanted to. Instead he just rolled over and slipped back insider her once more. Again he was hard but there was no use scolding himself over it this time. He’d agreed to fuck her if she asked and she asked. And he knew as much from experience as from skill, that she’d never be satisfied until he got her off with his cock. She loved it, he knew. She knew too, and she hated herself for it. But not as much as she hated him.