argyle_s: (Default)
Title: The Diary of Jane
Author: Argyle_S
Pairing: Jane/Maura
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Rating: NC-17
Length: About 27,000 Words
Genre: Angst, Drama, Romance.
Warnings: Explicit sex. Pregnant Sex. BDSM. Branding. Mentions of sexual assault.
Summary: Three weeks after the incident with Dennis, Maura has to fly to D.C. for the weekend to consult on a case, but she leaves something behind for Jane. Her journal, which contains a series of letters she's written to Jane over the months since the two settled their argument over Doyle's shooting. Letters she's been too afraid to show Jane.

A/N Again with the explicit content.


My Beloved Jane,

I told you a few days ago that the best antidote for heartbreak is distraction. The words came to me easily because I'd been seeking a distraction of my own, however fleeting or inadequate. I found one in Dennis. I was pretty, charming, a little provocative and most importantly of all, safe. I had no attachment or investment. There was attraction, but it was like a light wind, lost in the gale of my desire for you.

Still, I let him pursue me. Because I liked being pursued, and because I'm used to it. Because I know how to run, just fast enough to keep them interested, without being so fast they give up hope.

It was a fun game, one I'm used to playing, but I felt nothing special when he vanished. There was no heartbreak, no nights spent crying over him. Instead, my nights have been spent feeding you graham crackers, canned frosting, and horrible, peppery wines that come in plastic bladders inside cardboard boxes instead of bottles. Taking care of you. Something which, for others, might be an obligation, but for me is a source of unending joy.

However, for all of his faults, Dennis did remind me of something. I used to be someone who was brave. I used to be someone who took chances. I used to be the kind of person who would ride through my full turn at an Equestrian Dressage event naked simply to protest proposed budget cuts.

As I sit here, writing this letter, I imagine what it would have been like had I met you in the full boldness of youth. Would I have been as brave then as I imagine being now? Would I have pursued you with all the vigor with which I want, even now, to claim you, body and soul? Or would a younger, wilder you pursue me, throw caution to the wind and take me, as I willingly, enthusiastically allowed myself to be taken?

That is the idea that haunts me tonight. The idea that drove me to pull this journal out and pen this letter. The idea of you taking me. I can see it so clearly. Feel it in warm and wet places. The two of us, on a saddle, riding in the country.

Your hands would start around my waist, and I would lead the horse at a slow gait into the forest, smiling happily at the feel of your hard, muscled body pressed firmly against my back. Both of us would grow more and more aroused with each step the horse took, as the rocking motion of the horse grinds your pelvis against my ass.

Once we were alone in the woods, you'd decide you just couldn't wait anymore, and start unbuttoning my riding jacket, then my shirt. You'd pull it open, and I'd shudder with anticipation as you ran your hands over my stomach, and moan as you pushed up my sports bra. For a while, we'd both be content with that, with you exposing me, caressing and kneading my breasts in the warm sun as your lips and tongue left burning trails along my neck and collar bones, but soon, that wouldn't be enough, and your hands would slide down to work open my jodhpurs. I'd whimper as you worked one hand inside, then moan your name as you filled me with your fingers. At first, you'd let the slow rocking of the horse set the pace, but neither of us would have the patience for it, and I'd beg you to take me, and you would, one hand massaging my breasts while the other pumped in and out of me, making me sigh, whimper, pant, moan and finally scream as I came in your arms.

When I could breath again, I'd take your wrist, and drag you out of me as I pulled the horse to a stop. I'd slide from the saddle, then drag you after me. Once you had your feet on the ground, I would push you back against the nearest tree as I worked open the button and the zipper of your jeans, and as I pressed you against the trunk, I'd fall to my knees, dragging denim down with me, only to reach up again, and pull lace down as well. I wouldn't wait for permission, or an invitation. I'd force your legs apart and bury my face between your thighs, running my tongue over wet folds of pink flesh. I'd find your entrance and slip my tongue inside, lapping up your nectar the way a thirsty animal laps up life giving water, before I slowly worked my way forward. I'd replace my tongue inside you with fingers, and as I began stroking into you, fast and rough, I'd find your clit, licking and sucking and scraping with my teeth. I'd moan as your fingers found their way into my hair, twisting so tightly pain burned through my scalp like fire, and I'd be so turned on by the sounds you’re making I'd have to reach down and stroke my own clit with my free hand, until need and passion broke over us both, and we came together.

That's what I want, my love. To take you with all the passion and intensity of my heart. To take risks for you. To be brave for you. To be bold for you, and to love you the way you deserve to be loved, because you are the most wonderful, magnificent, precious thing in my life.

I want to spend forever reminding you of that.

With all my love,

I marked my page and closed the journal, tossing it onto the nightstand with a growl.

Maura was trying to kill me. She had to be. There was no other explanation.

I rolled onto my side, hugging a pillow to my chest as I curled up into a ball and whimpered, and for the second time that night, I tried to find some relief by squeezing my thighs together.

I was so turned on it hurt. I'd had lovers go down on me before. I usually enjoyed it. Sometimes, if they were good, I loved it. But no one even compared to just the idea of what Maura had described. Looking down, and seeing those hazel eyes looking back up at me...

I tilted my head forward, burying it in the pillow to muffle another scream.

When I was done screaming, I looked up, glaring at the journal.

I loved Maura. I'd known that for ages. And now, I was pretty sure I had an answer to the question of whether or not I found Maura attractive. The idea of fucking Maura, or of being fucked by Maura, was doing things to my body that bordered on torture.

But I still couldn't answer the question that mattered. Was I in love with Maura?

I should have had an answer for that. How could you be in love with someone and not know it?

I thought I was in love with Casey, but I couldn't help but think how that had turned out. If I was in love with him, why the hell had I slept with Dean, and why the hell hadn't either of us called the other after our little chat in the Dirty Robber? I'd thought, maybe, I could fall in love with Dean, but that had turned into a complete disaster. I thought about all the men in my life, at least, all the ones I'd gotten past the second date with. Thought of how it felt with them.

None of them felt like what I felt with Maura. I hadn't ever felt like I needed any of them. Not like I needed Maura. And I did need her. I needed to see her every day. When we fought, it felt like my world was falling to pieces. Everything hurt. But when we made up, it was like surfacing after being under the water too long. I felt like I could breath again.

Maybe that was what love felt like? Maybe all the others had just been attraction and affection.

I reached for the journal, hoping it had the answers I was looking for.

The Diary of Jane Chapter List
Chapter 01
Chapter 02
Chapter 03
Chapter 04
Chapter 05
Chapter 06
Chapter 07
Chapter 08
Chapter 09
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15

Fanfic Master List

Date: 2012-08-21 12:48 am (UTC)From: [identity profile]
It seems to me that Maura is setting the bar awfully high for her and Jane the first time they have actual sex. Not that I, as a reader, mind but if I were Jane I'd be a bit nervous ;-)

Date: 2012-08-21 05:36 am (UTC)From: [identity profile]
Well, that's the thing about fantasies. Realism usually isn't very high on the list of ingredients.

Date: 2012-08-25 11:10 am (UTC)From: [identity profile]
I love the things that Maura puts in this journal (not just the sex), but I like the things she says about how she wants to be certain things for Jane, like being bold, and that Jane is the most precious thing in her life.

Date: 2012-08-25 06:21 pm (UTC)From: [identity profile]
Shhh... Don't tell anybody, but I actually based the journal on letters I wrote to my ex-girlfriend. I know it's cheating, but like Maura, I have a bit of trouble dealing with social situations. Writing, on the other had, gives me time to figure out how to communicate what I really want too. I figured if it worked for me, it would work for Maura.

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