FIC: Who's Using Who?
Title: Who's Using Who?
Rating: M for adult situations
Summery: She wants the comfort that comes from being in another persons arms, he likes the release. Jane/Grace pairing
Authors Notes: Written for the mentalist_bb. This is a mini bang. Approximate word count 1310. Special thanks to robothor1111 for the beta and ruuger for the art which can be found here
Who's Using Who?
The knock on the attic door was unusual. People didn’t usually knock. They usually just came in. He just sat on the small bed and waited. Maybe whoever was there would go away. When the knock came again he knew they wouldn’t. He was tempted to just yell at them to come in, or go away, either would work, but decided that it would be better if he answered the door personally. The woman on the other side was not who he expected.
“Grace?” He didn’t bother hiding the surprise in his voice.
“Jane.” She simply stated. He stepped back to let her into the room.
They stood facing each other for a few minutes, not speaking, letting the silence draw on. Grace took a step towards him. After a few more seconds she spoke in a soft voice.
“I told myself I wasn’t going to come. I told myself that I could stay away.” She had worn a skirt today, not something that she did very often, but something that always an indication to him that she was weakening. That she was going to seek them out.
He knew she wanted more than he could offer. And as much as he wanted to, he knew he would never be able to offer her what she wanted.
ldquo;I told myself that this was never going to end well, that I was only going to end up hurt.” She took another step towards him and cast her eyes towards the ground.
They stood there for a moment, the silence hanging in the air. He made the next move, closing the gap between them, putting a hand on her waist under the jacket she still wore. It had been a hard week. The case they had just finished involved kids, which was never easy, and Rigsby was being even more gushing than usual. Jane knew that was hard on her.
“Grace.” He spoke her name in barely more than a whisper. She put her fingers to his lips to silence him. Once she was sure he wasn’t going to talk she replaced them with her lips. The kiss was hard and sloppy. She needed comfort, release, she was in pain and Jane knew that he could help. Not as much as she wanted, but a bit at least.
They stumbled back towards his cot, knees bumping the edge before the sat down heavily, Grace in his lap. She pushed him back, flat on his back, her hands roaming over his chest. He’d shed his jacket when he’d come up here, but his vest was still buttoned up and she growled in frustration against his lips. She moved her lips to nip at his neck while she stumbled over the buttons on his vest, pulling roughly, not caring if she ripped the fabric or popped the buttons. Once it was open she did the same thing to his shirt, relishing in the fact that he didn’t wear an undershirt. This was just one of the things she enjoyed about him. One of the things she loved. She ran his hands up his chest, pulling back from his neck to nip down his chest, licking his nipples before moving back to his lips.
His mouth was on hers, his hands in her hair, on her back, on her ass. She slid her hands down his chest again, slipping them to the waist of his pants, hoping, wishing, that this was going to be more than just a way to burn of pent up steam and frustration, but right now this was what she wanted to do, this is what she needed. A small part of her wished that he needed this to. She flipped the button on the front of his pants and worked the zipper. He moaned into her mouth and worked his hands up and down her legs. She pushed his pants down, her hands on him. She was still on top, that’s the way she liked it. It gave her a sense of control in a situation that had very little semblance of normal.
His ran his fingers up her thighs pushing her skirt up as they went until it was pooled around her waist. He hooked his thumbs in the waist of her panties, sliding them down. He didn’t get them past her knees when she was straddling his waist and guiding him to her entrance. She was hot and wet and he gasped as she sank onto him. Her mouth was on his neck and her hair, which had been in a loose braid over her shoulder, was starting to come undone and was fanning across his chest as she started riding him. He kept one hand on her ass, helping to support her and reached the other around to her still completely covered breasts.
He’d never gotten a chance to take her shirt off, but that would have taken too much time and this is what she had wanted, not the foreplay that would have been expected if they had been in a real bed. She wanted it hard and fast and messy. He pinched her nipple through her shirt and bra, causing her to gasp. She was quiet when they had sex, not more than a gasp and harsh breathing passed her lips. He preferred it that way, it kept people from asking questions, it kept people from finding out.
Her rhythm, because it was her controlling this, was becoming erratic and Jane knew that she was close. Her breath against her neck was ragged and her hands which were clutching his shoulders were squeezing hard enough that Jane knew he was going to have bruises later. He could feel the pressure building in his stomach as well, knew from experience that if she lost control he would come before she did and that’s not what she needed right now. He might not be able to give her everything she needed, everything she deserved, but he could give her this.
He moved his hand from her breast down lower, gliding it across her stomach and past the bulky gathering of material that was her skirt. Though the angle was awarded he knew that he could still get a hand between them to press against her clit. The pressure he placed was hard, like the way she was riding him and was all she needed to come over the edge, she gasped and he kept pressing and helping her move until she was done. He started to thrust into her as she came down from his high and it only took a few strokes for him to come as well.
The sat like that for a few minutes-Grace’s head against his neck, her hair across his chest, Jane’s arms around her-until the both caught their breaths. Grace moved first, shakily standing, grabbing tissue from the box near the cot to clean up as best she could. They’d not used condoms in ages, her birth control pills taking care of the only consequence she worried about with him. He was safer than a random stranger in a bar, but that wasn’t her only thought as she pulled her panties up and slipped her shoes back on from where they had fallen at the edge of the couch.
She wouldn’t look at him, but he didn’t look at her either. He knew she wanted more, he knew that she wanted him for more than just the casual encounter, the chance to blow off steam and get rid of pent up stress. She straightened her clothes, re-braided her hair and turned to look at him.
“Good night Jane.” She said, her voice quiet. As she walked out of the door he was left with the same question he was often left with. In their “relationship” who was using who?