Title: Waiting for the sun to shine, waiting for the time to come

Author: Little Firestar 84

Fandom: The Mentalist

Characters and/or pairings: Jane and Lisbon.

Rating: M for adult content (sex)

Status: complete

Word Count: 4118 ca.

Notes: spoilers for season 4/early season 5. Was supposed to be a tag to 5.15, but took a mind of its own, so, really, no spoilers beyond the first few episodes of the season.

Summary: He didn't want for her to give up on him, getting ready for a life where he wasn't there. He wanted for her to know that she was supposed to wait for him, that he had a claim on her, that he was going to live, to be free, to rebuilt his life aroud her. But Lisbon was resigned to losing him, she believed that he was going to just break her heart. It was time to change her mind. Starting now.

As her walked to his attic, Jane wondered about the events of the last couple of days, about how he and Lisbon had dealt with the last investigation. Somehow, it felt...wrong. She had worked a little less with him, trusted his judgment in a different way. He felt even like she had dismissed him.

A part of him would have liked to think that he didn't know the reasons she had acted that way, but the truth was, he did, and he couldn't blame her. Even his last sentence, the way he had said goodbye to her, had strained their relationship a tiny bit more. He had left her all alone, refused to spend time with her as she silently begged him to, all to investigate Red John, to fuel his obsession.

He was so close, he could taste victory on the tip of his tongue. He had a short list of names, and all he had to do was wait for Lorelai to show herself. He would give her the list, would look at her as she read the names, and he would have his nemesis, whatever she wanted or not. She was already gone, had already betrayed her master, even if she didn't know it yet. He had planted the seed of doubt in her, there was no way she would be able to fake her reaction in front of her mater's true name.

Victory would be his. And everything would be lost: no more team, no more CBI, a life of the run if he was going to survive. A life without Lisbon.

She knew that they were so close. And she knew what it would mean for him... and for her. That's why she was acting that way. She wasn't getting ready for life after Red John.

She was preparing herself for life after Patrick Jane.

She was dismissing him, defining his work a guessing game. She didn't trusted him any longer as she used to, both with her life and his hunches. She was more inclined than before to boring police work, was trying to make a name for her, prepare a position and make powerful friends for the day hell would break loose and what scared him the most was that she was preparing her whole team to the outcome, too. Cho's works were getting more and more serious and delicate, and she often sent him to deal on matters she would have looked after on her own until few weeks before, Rigsby was sent to work in the field all on his own more often, and Grace was on her way to became such an expert that every cybercrime unit would have killed to have her.

Everything was changing, even his game with the monster. But, in the eye of the storm, he was still the same. He couldn't acknowledge this new reality, mostly out of fear. He was motionless, and wanted for the others to be too, but they didn't want to. He couldn't blame them, though. He had never asked them to wait for him, he had never told them how much he trusted them, cared about them. And now, all he had was Lisbon's resigned look as he grinned at her, happy and satisfied at the prospect of working on the Red John investigation on his own.

His eyes fell on the wall, on pictures and names and timelines and pieces of newspapers, and yet he couldn't bring himself to care enough to concentrate, to shorten the list furthermore. His heart beat faster, and his breathing was erratic, but it wasn't because of the case. Looking at the wall he felt nothing, but as soon as he turned to stare at the closed door, he felt alive again, his animal instincts running havoc in his whole being.

He wanted for her to reach him, come and get him. He wanted her hand on his own, trying to reassure him that everything would be all right. He wanted for her to hug him while he finally cried and let it all out, wanted her help to grief and became a better man.

But he knew she wasn't going to join him.

He had dismissed her too much since his return from Vegas, all the trust was gone. She knew he was lying, and she couldn't even bring herself to care enough to face him with the fact. She didn't believe him any longer, and had decided that she was only a pawn. But, how wrong she was! She wasn't any longer just a mean to an end. Otherwise... he would have allowed Hardy to kill her. Would have given her head for Red John's friendship, just to get him.

Maybe... maybe he wasn't as motionless as he thought. Something had changed in him, he realized as he silently cried few tears, his eyes focused on his wedding band. She had changed him, changed his mind, his heart. He had loved Angela enough to break free from his father's grip, but enough to leave his old life behind. But Lisbon had done it. What had started as a way to work on the Red John case, had turned into something that he liked, that he wanted to do. He loved the mystery, loved the puzzles, but giving people closure, maybe because he hadn't been allowed himself to yet, was what had him going on.

That... and her.

You are a tiny bit in love with her.

No, he wasn't. He loved her, point. Not more than Angela, but in a different way. He was a different man, after all, older, with a new, different life, new goals, but there was something that hadn't changed, maybe his only regret. He wasn't wiser.

He had always dismissed Angela and her love for him, and now he was doing the same with Lisbon. He was giving up on her, leaving her behind to concentrate on his obsession. Back then it had been all about the money and the fame, now it was Red John and Lorelai. The result was the same, he was letting her down like he had done with his family.

Yes, he didn't blame her because she didn't want for him to be the center of her whole universe. After all, didn't she deserve better than him, more?

Yes. But Patrick Jane was a very selfish man. He wanted her, wanted to be the center of her universe, and he wanted for her to know it. When he had lost his family, he had never thought about deserving a second chance, and he still did, but if he could make someone happy... he could see himself only with Teresa.

He didn't want for her to give up on him, getting ready for a life where he wasn't there. He wanted for her to know that she was supposed to wait for him, that he had a claim on her.

His felt as he had never done before, like a beast in heat, one of those animals that choose a mate for life and claim her with strength and vigor. He wanted to do the same with her, mark her as his own before the eyes of the whole world, but he knew it wasn't time yet. They weren't ready for a tiny, precious life to grown inside of her, not with the danger of Red John... but he had to let her know that this was going to be the only possible outcome for them.

He was going to live. He was going to be free. And he was going to rebuilt his life not with Lisbon, but around her... an older, wiser man, a better husband. And maybe...if they were going to be lucky enough...if they were going to be blessed with such a wonderful gift...a better father, too.

But he needed for her to understand first, to know. Be ready, and not scared by how deep their feelings were. Lisbon had fought against love her whole life, it was time to understand that no matter what, he was ready to accept her, and the repercussions of having her in his life. He wanted to turn her into his new obsession, but she had to allow him to first, and he couldn't wait for her to acknowledge on her own such a fact any longer. Lisbon was resigned to losing him, thought he was already lost, that he was going to just break her heart. It was time to change her mind. Starting now.

For a second, his mind wondered to possible scenarios, dreams he had had in the past about their first time together. He had always assumed it would have been either a little sophomoric, slow, gentle and romantic or passionate, angry, hard, lust-filled, instinctive. Option one would have suited her the most, but he didn't feel like driving to her place, or booking a suite in some five stars hotel. There was going to be time for soft beds and pillows, now it was time to face the truth, meet the beast she had awoken and feel her body sandwiched between the hard wood of her desk and the one of his cock.

Softness? Thanks, but no thanks.

He had always been a tender lover, Angela had been his first serious girlfriend and when they had decided to get married had been both very young and extremely inexperienced, in bed they had always been tender and cautious, at first because they didn't know how not to, and then because kinky things and screams of unaltered passion weren't advisable with a kid next room.

With Lisbon, though...

Teresa was a grown up woman who knew what she liked and what she wanted. She wasn't always ready to take it, though. She was always so controlled and restrained in bed, he knew it. She had many one night stands, not that he blamed her, but always held back, was scared to show the darkest, wildest part of her being. She could be herself only with men she trusted completely, but their number was very, very small...let's say it was close to zero. Poor Teresa Lisbon had been hurt too much in the past already, and she guarded her heart with the greatest strength. She was tender, sweet and affectionate, but did her best to avoid falling in love.

With him... she didn't stand any chance.

Theirs was a never ending battle, but he was fed up with it. It was time for someone to make their move, take the first step, walk the proverbial line between friends and with benefits. Not that it was what he wanted from her, but rough, wild sex was a start, a way to make her understand he wasn't going to leave anytime soon...and that she was done with looking at other men. Screw Mancini, Kirkland, Bertram and Heffner and Ardilles. She was fucking his. And it was time for Lisbon to open her eyes on such a reality.

He walked towards her office fighting for control, and it took all of him to avoid running. He still wanted to be his usual smug, arrogant, know it all self, wanted to show her he could play her like an instrument of pleasure, that she had to surrender to her own feelings because he was her sole master from then on. He smirked and licked his lips as he saw the light still on in her office, and licked his lips in anticipation, feeling like the big, bad wolf ready to devour the delicate princess who dared to play a game bigger than her. He could feel his cock hardening like never before, and he had to rearrange it before meeting her, hiding its tip from her sight. Sighing, he realized he couldn't do anything for the bulge in his pants. It wasn't like he could hide altogether his dimensions, he just hoped she wasn't going to be scared by the idea of his monstrous cock banging her.

He was going to make it fit, no matter what. Inch for agonizing inch, he would make her take it all, slow, until he would be nested in her warm, wet heat to the hilt, balls-deep.

He shuddered, the doorknob already in hand. Damn it to hell, thinking about fucking her brains out, his traitorous appendage had taken control, escaping yet again the confines of his tailored pants!

He sighed, rearranging yet again his corpus delicti, and then he entered in her office, without preambles. She wasn't exactly surprised-nothing new in entering in her office without knocking first for Patrick Jane- but he could see that she wasn't waiting for him to show up. She had been resigned to be all alone on her own, to not seen him any longer. He could see in her teary eyes that she had even considered the idea that he could fly in the middle of the night, ready to meet with Lorelai or face Red John after some kind of God-like revelations. But there hadn't been any kind of revelation of any sort for him lately, for his mind has been focused entirely on Lisbon. On how many times her had almost lost her, how she had almost gone away. How much he couldn't do without her in his life. How sick and tired he was that she kept saying that the only reason she was keeping up with him was because he closed cases.

Why couldn't she admit that she wanted him, craved for his love, his touch, his manhood in her?

He saw black, lost all contact with reality, with reason, and without allowing her to say a sole word he attacked her. He pushed her body against her desk, and while she wrestled her way out of his arms, with one hand he pushed everything on the floor, making room for them. He made her sat there, and held her for her forearms so strongly he was going to bruise her, but he didn't care. Because he knew she was lying. She was struggling to get free, but he could smell her arousal in the air, feminine, wild, musky, all Lisbon, and he could see her pupils, dilated beyond reason, her curvy body trying to get as close as possible, her palms trying to touch him everywhere they could reach with the excuse of pushing him away.

He laughed like a maniac, crazy, wild, without restrain, and went for her lips. She kept her mouth closed as he attacked, but a single touch of his tongue on the sensitive skin got her all aroused, made her moan and he immediately took advantage of the situation, thrusting his tongues inside. He explored her mouth, licking everywhere he could, and as soon as her own tongue came out to play as well, he bit its tongue, lightly, making her gasp. He deepened the penetration, showing her what his cock would soon be doing. She showed him all appreciation, rubbing her clothed body against his own, and rewarded Jane by sucking his tongue. Moaning aloud, Jane closed his eyes, his body overloaded by sensation, and started to dry-hump her, blood and heat going directly to his groin as her giggles filled the room.

God... she did such beautiful sounds when aroused!

With his mind's eye, he started imaging what she could look like, sound like while coming, while she was having sex, and that was his undoing. Imagining her wasn't enough any longer, even if she had been the star of way too many R rated fantasies of his along the years. He needed to see her, feel her, have her. Taste her.

Roaring like a lion, he pushed her away, and looked at her with clenched teeth, eyes red, pupils dilated. Lisbon sat on her desk was the most erotic thing he had ever seen, parted lips, swollen for his kisses; her hair a mess, her legs parted, like ready to accept his fierce pounding, her eyes huge, dilated and teary for the emotions running wild between them, her clothes crumpled because of his rough touch.

He had to have her. Now.

He jumped her, and tiered apart her shirt with a strength he didn't know he had, and while she was trying to recover from the shock, his used the same force to get rid of her pants. He threw in some corner socks and shoes, until Lisbon was standing before him just in her underwear. He didn't show any pity for the black lace too, tearing her panties and breaking her push up in the process of uncovering her skin.

He took a couple of steps back, and watched her in awe, registering her image in a whole wing of his memory palace. She was soft and delicate, skin as ivory, kissed by freckles every now and then. Her breasts were full and big, for a woman as petite as her, and clenching his fists he knew that they would fit his hands like a glove. She had small feet that would look like paradise in black leather heels, the dream of every fetishist, her leg were strong and muscular, ready to cradle and hold him in the throes of passion. She was smooth, with no hairs, not even to hide and protect her femininity, and he licked his lips. She saw where he was looking, how haunted his gaze was, and started panting, something that just made him crazier.

He couldn't resist any longer, and he attacked her yet again, and buried his head between her legs. She gasped at the sensations, his curls tickling her belly, his tongue deep in her, thrusting and invading her, filling her small void like and better than any cock before. She was so wet, he kept grunting in her, his sounds reverberating against her tender, hyper-sensitive, aroused tissue, and just like that, as soon as she took hold of his hair and pushed him in her as deep as possible, muffling a scream, she came, her legs crossed at his back, pushing him in until he couldn't move forward any longer.

He slowed down, helping her out of her high, and kept sucking her clit between his lips, licking her pussy inside out with his clever, talented tongue.

Panting, he finally parte, licking his glistening lips, and looked at him with a look full of love and affection, tenderness, as he had never seen before. Smiling languid with pleasure, she grabbed him for the lapels of his jacket, and brought him down for a searing kiss, making sure to lick his lips clean before to push her tongue in his mouth, doing to him the very same things he had done to her before.

While she was doing such sinfully things with her tongue, Jane thought he couldn't waste any more time, and while they moaned their pleasure and their passion in each other's mouth, he unzipped his pants, getting just enough fabric out of the way to get his cock free. She giggled as she understood what he was doing, and took an hold of his erection, failing to span him completely. But she could touch just the right amount of hard skin, all the right places that drove him wilder, made him harder. It was the hand-job from haven, and he started to fuck her fist, but then a little piece of his mind returned to him, and Patrick Jane decided that there was only one place where he got to spend his seed that very night, and it was in her pussy.

He pushed her furthermore onto the desk, her head falling on the other side, and he sat on his knees on the hard wood, his legs slightly parted. He took her legs and pushed them on his shoulders. His cock was teasing her entrance, and like she was a dirty little girl hot for her teacher, she whimpered, trying to get the hard male flesh to just enter her already. But he couldn't have any of this. She was his, and this was his moment to claim her as his own. His mate, now and for life, his last chance at a normal life, at happiness. Forever and ever.

His hands under her ass, he pushed to the hilt into one move, her eyes and mouth opening in a silent o like his cock could exit from there. She was stuffed full with cock, he was everywhere, filling her, hurting so good, the sight of her narrow pussy expanded in such an inhumane way the most erotic thing he had ever seen. It captured him, and he couldn't move, could just stare at the vision, his male flesh finally inside her, ready to fuck the woman his cock had been made for fuck.

His. His to fuck, his to love. His Lisbon. Teresa.

For a second, he wanted to stop, leave her heat, be gentle and delicate, he was scared of hurting such a delicate and small creature, so slim he could almost span her with his hands, but she didn't deserved control. Teresa wasn't a girl was slow and tender, and he had to prove a point to her. She was his, and she had to learn it the hard way.

He left her heat, her powerful body doing its best to try to stop him, her muscles already contracting around his shaft, but chuckling darkly, he pushed in yet again. He started to pond into her without mercy, hard and fast, rough. He grunted, keeping his eyes open to look at her, see if she was learning her lesson. The things he was doing to her, he had never done before, didn't know what a hard fuck could feel like, and for the first time in his life he realized he was no man for vanilla. He was delighted in her never ending screams, in her face contorted in pleasure and pain, in her sobs, the wet, slapping sounds of skin against skin, her skin getting redder and redder, the bruises that he knew was going to be there the next days, matching his hands, marking her as his own.

His. Fucking his.

He felt himself getting harder and bigger in her, and gasped, doubled for the sensation, almost breathless. All he could see was her, their joined bodies, her tits bouncing for the harsh fuck he was providing her with. He got lost in her voice, her hoarse screams of passion, in her begging him to just end it there and then, to give it to her. She wanted to come. She needed for him to come, to fill her with his juice, his balm to sooth the ache.

His felt the tall-tale sensation in his balls, felt his testicles drew closer and closer to his body, and with on last grunt, he erupted in her, his load leaving his cock with such a strength it didn't feel like an ejaculation, but another thrust in her.

It was so strong, his face lost in the orgasm so beautiful that she came yet again, this time around his cock. They both screamed, and he lifted her up, took her in his arms, kissed her screams away, eat them alive with his mouth and he lazily kept fucking his woman.

Lost in the kiss, she calmed down, and helped him out of her, their bodies still so close they were almost touching. His cock was still hard, glistening with their combined juices, and hadn't stopped coming yet. Smiling, never stopping to make love to his mouth with her lips, she took it in her hands, and jerked him off, directing his seed on her stomach, coming yet again, this time silently, for the sensation of his hot balm on her skin.

When oxygen became a need, they finally parted, keeping giving each other lazy pecks on the lips, smiling out of breath, on the verge of tears. He soother her skin with gentle caresses, weeping for the force of his emotions, and she looked at him with adoration, like he was the only other human on the planet... and for a short while, lost in their little bubble, it was just like that.

They got dressed, rearranged themselves at the least worst, and then they went to sleep on their couch, well aware that the very next day this night would have been just a dream for them. Because it wasn't time yet. But at least, now they were both on the same page, and one day, soon, very soon, they would be having this, all of this, forever and ever.

She was his. And he was hers. Forever and ever.