Mentalist smut
Title: Accordions
Rating: Adult
Accordions
Jane stepped up to Lisbon’s door promptly… at ten after the hour. He didn’t make a habit of intruding on her privacy, at least not in her own home. He recognized he could only push her so far and there were boundaries he respected. He couldn’t refuse, though, when Lisbon asked for help. Not that she’d come right out and said she needed help. No, not Lisbon. But he didn’t need to be psychic to hear what she hadn’t said.
He gave the door a brisk rap of his knuckles and Lisbon’s voice came from somewhere in the apartment. “Come in.” He rattled the doorknob, locked as it should be, and Lisbon’s voice called out again. “I know you know how to pick the lock.”
Jane blew a couple of figurative canary feathers from his lips, then bent to the lock, still smiling. He only needed a moment to pick the lock, and surely a CBI agent should have a better one. Naturally, Lisbon was armed and capable of being quite scary but really, the lack of security was shameful.
“Lisbon?” He closed the door behind him and began to slowly make his way into the apartment, glancing at the knickknacks on a shelf, looking for something new or personal.
“In here.”
He frowned, puzzled, as he identified the source of her voice as being the bedroom. “Shall I just wait then?”
“Nope. Come on in.” Her voice sounded positively cheerful and completely non-threatening, so he gave a little shrug and headed toward the bedroom door.
“You’re not afraid you’re setting a dangerous precedent?” he said, slipping easily into full flirt mode. He puffed out his chest, just slightly, but he deflated quickly when he saw Lisbon. And Mashburn. Walter was stretched out on the bed, arms crossed behind his head as he reclined against a pile of pillows. Lisbon was waiting for Jane just inside the door. And goodness, there was a great deal of nudity going on.
“Not the one I would’ve guessed,” Walter said to Lisbon, looking faintly amused.
“You didn’t think I’d do it at all,” Lisbon said. Jane held up one finger, hoping to interrupt long enough to get an explanation but Lisbon ignored him. “So who did you think I’d ask?”
“I would’ve bet on Agent Cho.”
“Seriously?” After a second, Lisbon shrugged. “Okay, not a bad guess, but Cho’s kind of picky.”
“And I’m not?” Walter affected a pout, which only earned him a saucy grin from Lisbon.
“Excuse me,” Jane said rather insistently. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Congratulations, Patrick.” Walter smiled. “You’re the third leg in this evening’s triangle.”
Jane stared at Walter for a moment, an uncertain little smile on his face. “No. No, I don’t think so.”
“Yes,” Lisbon said.
“No…,” Jane had a little difficulty processing the information. “Wait--you would’ve chosen Cho first?”
“Aw,” Lisbon said, a smug grin playing on her lips as she stepped directly in front of him. “Did I hurt Jane’s feelings?”
“No. ” Jane watched as Lisbon’s hands crept down his chest, unbuttoning his vest with efficient little flicks of her thumb. He tried to squirm away from her, fingers going to the buttons to refasten them.
“Stop trying to run away.” Lisbon grabbed him by the upper arms and forced him to stand still before slapping his hands away.
“Why not me?” Jane asked. That should not, by any means, have been taken as an agreement to participate. It was merely a troubling issue that needed to be cleared up before he could leave.
“Have you looked at your little black book recently?” Walter asked.
“I don’t have a little black book.”
“Exactly,” Lisbon said.
“Just because I don’t, doesn’t mean I can’t,” Jane said. He should turn around and leave. Right then. Just…withdraw as gracefully as he could and forget it ever happened. And he would, just as soon as he’d cleared up this little misunderstanding. And just as soon as he’d removed Lisbon’s hands from under his shirt. “Which should not be misconstrued as consent.”
“If you feel the need to be forced, that can be arranged,” Walter offered. “I’m sure Teresa would be happy to whip you into line.”
Jane needed all his self control to suppress his reaction to those words but in spite of his not inconsiderable restraint, Walter tilted his head, a little smile playing around his lips. “Interesting.”
“What?” Jane found himself unable to look either of them in the eye. He gave a nervous little shake of his head. “No, not interesting. There is absolutely nothing of interest here.”
Lisbon looked at him, grinning. “Your pupils are dilated.”
“It’s dark in here.”
“Not that dark,” Walter said, ever helpful.
“Lisbon, please….”
“Relax,” Lisbon said calmly. “I’m not going to force you to do anything.” She pulled his shirttails from his pants and ripped it open, buttons bouncing on the carpet at their feet.
Jane stared. “I thought you said….”
“I said you wouldn’t have to do anything. I didn’t say you wouldn’t have things done to you.”
“This is one of my favorite shirts,” he said, which was a lame protest, even to his own ears.
“Walter will buy you a new one,” Lisbon assured him as she unbuckled his belt.
“I’ll buy you two.”
Jane startled as Walter’s voice came from right next to his ear. Somehow, Mashburn had moved unnoticed from the bed to stand just behind him and he was peeling Jane’s jacket, vest and shirt off in one smooth pull. Lisbon gave him a gentle shove and, with his pants around his ankles, he had no choice but to fall back on the bed. He resisted only feebly when she, or Walter or both, pulled his shoes off and finally stripped his pants off over his feet. He lay there, eyes closed and tried to analyze the situation. He should’ve been resisting. Hell, he should’ve been in a full blown panic and running for the nearest exit. But he wasn’t.
The truth was, he resisted contact not because it was distasteful in some way but because he was afraid that if he started touching, he wouldn’t be able to stop. He was a man drowning in a sea of loneliness and right then, Lisbon and Walter were a life preserver dangled just before his eyes. He’d chosen to immerse himself in isolation and he should’ve rejected the rescue. Sometimes, though, sometimes the pain of being alone was greater than the guilt of giving in.
“Ahhh….” The choked sound escaped his throat when someone’s mouth closed around him. He hadn’t been hard…okay, maybe a little but that was perfectly understandable reflexive reaction, but he couldn’t control his response to the heat, the wet, the limber tongue…. A small groan was smothered by another mouth. Lisbon’s. Definitely Lisbon’s. And hands, so many hands and they were all over his body.
He didn’t know what to do with his own hands. He grabbed onto Lisbon almost by default and oh, all that smooth, soft skin felt good, so very good. So naturally, he tried to pull his hands away, clenching them into fists so he wouldn’t be seduced by the alluring heat of her body. His restraint was breaking apart, though, and it was only a second before he was reaching for her again, his mind and body still apparently skirmishing for which had control.
Lisbon broke the demanding kiss, tilting her head to look down at Mashburn. “Walter, you’re going to kill him.”
“Trust me--no man ever died of a blow job.”
“It could happen,” Jane said weakly. In spite of the threat to his well being, he made a small noise of discomfort at the loss of stimulation. His fingers twitched and he gritted his teeth, wanting more but unable to ask for it. Even watching Lisbon and Mashburn engaged in a heated kiss above him was not a sufficient distraction. Lisbon whispered in Walter’s ear, giving Jane a positively evil grin as she did, and then she moved to take Walter’s place. She straddled Jane’s legs and lowered her head.
“Oh. Oh, Lisb….”
“She thinks she won’t kill you, which is a ridiculous notion because she’s better at giving head than I am,” Walter said. He leaned over Jane, claiming his mouth in a kiss that was less aggressive and yet deeper than Lisbon’s. Once again, Jane struggled with where to put his hands. He pushed weakly at Walter’s chest, although, it may have seemed like he was sort of stroking more than pushing.
Walter grasped one of Jane’s wrists and pinned his arm to the mattress. A moan caught in Jane’s throat as he flexed his wrist, testing the firmness of Walter’s hold. Walter pulled back, his eyes scanning Jane’s face. Then he very deliberately took hold of Jane’s other hand and pulled his arms over his head, pressing both of his hands into the bed. The pressure was firm but not painful, and between that and Lisbon’s weight on his legs, Jane was effectively restrained. He strained against Mashburn’s hold, hips jerking…and that was all it took. Apparently seven years of repressed sexual need simply couldn’t be denied a moment longer.
Once Jane could breathe without sounding like a leaky bellows, he rolled onto his side. Lisbon was on her back, legs wrapped around Walter’s waist, Walter’s hands on her hips. Jane was content to watch. He was good at it. Even the small pulse of jealousy was comfortable. It was a known quantity. He wasn’t even jealous of Lisbon or of her relationship with Walter. He was simply jealous of anyone who found that connection. Even though he held sole responsibility for disconnecting himself, he missed having intimacy in his life.
He was literally dragged out of his thoughts by Lisbon’s hand in his hair. He didn’t think. The time was long past for that. He simply gave into her wishes. He shifted closer and lowered his head, feeling her panted exhalations against his lips before sealing his mouth to hers.
Her hand tangled in Jane’s hair, gentle at first then with increasing intensity. Jane didn’t normally care for anyone messing with his hair, but he kind of liked that. He liked feeling her need and her control. He slipped his hand to her breast and he could feel her body surge with each thrust of Walter’s hips. When she reached climax, he held her, listening to her moans. He kissed her cheek and turned to look at Walter, needing to see everything right through to the end. Mashburn was too far gone to be aware of Jane’s gaze. He drove into Lisbon’s lithe body, face contorted in pleasure, until he stilled with a sharp gasp.
For one brief moment, Jane felt human again.
~~**~~
Jane sat on an ottoman in the corner of the room. Lisbon was dead to the world, curled around the space occupied by Walter until Walter had slipped out of bed and into the bathroom. Light escaped around the edges of the bathroom door and it was just enough for Jane to see to gather his clothes and make his escape.
One sock was on, the other dangled, forgotten, from his hand as he mused on his lack of guilt. He’d just had sex. With Lisbon. And Mashburn. By all rights, he should’ve been wracked with guilt. He thought it possible there were simply too many happy chemicals in his bloodstream just then and the guilt would come later when those wore off. The other possibility was that it had been long enough. Maybe he’d moved past the need to isolate himself, punish himself.
He thought the former explanation more likely. He hoped it was more likely because he wouldn’t know how to live without guilt. Since Red John had gutted his world, Jane’s life had been based on two things: guilt and revenge. If he lost guilt, he’d be…unbalanced.
Apparently Mashburn’s brain was on the same wavelength because his voice suddenly interrupted Jane’s thoughts. “Ah, the walk of shame.”
“More like the crouch of shame at the moment,” Jane said, finally pulling on the other sock and shoving his feet in his shoes. He glanced back at Lisbon but she was still deep asleep.
“It’s really not necessary.”
“Yes. Yes, it is.” Jane stood up once he’d tied his shoes. He pulled on his shirt, unable to button it thanks to Lisbon, and then he turned toward Walter. His first thought was that he was grateful the man had taken the time to pull on a pair of boxers. It was somewhat less distracting when trying to have a discussion if he didn’t have to look at the other side of the room. His second thought was… “This was your idea.”
“You saw Teresa,” Walter said calmly before taking a sip of water from the glass in his hand. “She was in complete control.”
“In the bedroom, maybe, but Lisbon would never do this of her own volition. You found her buttons, and then found a way to push them.”
“You make me sound so manipulative. So clever. So…like you.” Walter was capable of dissembling but many times he gave the lie away. He was too proud of himself and it showed in the faint crinkle of skin at the corners of his eyes. Jane merely wagged a finger at him. Walter wasn’t as clever as Jane--no one was--but he was an intelligent and observant man. Jane had no doubt Walter had managed to uncover some of Lisbon’s secrets and then finessed her into playing out one of them. And into drawing Jane in as well.
“So….” Walter paused to take another sip of water before setting the glass on the bedside table. “I’ve got Kings tickets for this weekend. You interested?”
“You’re not taking Lisbon?”
“She’d shoot me if I didn’t,” Walter said with a faint huff of amusement. “But I’ve got third ticket.”
“I don’t really care for basketball.” Jane grasped the doorknob, but he hesitated and glanced back over his shoulder. “You know who does, though….”
“Who?”
“Agent Cho.” Jane watched just long enough to see the speculative look on Walter’s face, then he waggled his fingers in a wave and closed the door behind him.