Felice

The Mentalist || Bodyguard AU

Chapter Fourteen ◇ Monologue

Read here on AO3

The more he spoke, the harder it became to actually hear him. Her focus kept diverting to the sensual movement of his mouth and to the precision of his hands as he cradled each ravioli and set it aside with impossible delicateness, as though the fragile pasta might bruise under rougher fingers.

There was no reasonable explanation why she was so turned on by it all – the sheen of perspiration at his brow, or the way the tip of his tongue peeked out when he concentrated. Even the scent of herbs and butter tangled with the musky notes of his earthy cologne was affecting her in unspeakable ways, making her pulse stumble and her thighs wet.

She looked back at the folders on the island, hoping that smothering herself in work might extinguish whatever was smoldering under her skin.

“So what’s with all the piles?” she asked – thinner than intended and much too high to be nonchalant.

If Jane noticed, he didn’t let on.

“The first pile is things I’d like to see for myself. People, places, that sort of thing.” He pointed with his elbow at the stack on the far left. “You can take me.”

The thread of dominance in his voice only stoked the embers.

Still fussing, he transferred the finished ravioli onto a lined tray, then moved to another bowl and started whisking whatever was in it. His sleeves had ridden up, moulding the shirt to one bicep as he worked. It looked ripe enough to bite into.

Teresa’s body betrayed her immediately, heat and arousal pooling in her core.

Mentalist Bodyguard AU

Chapter 12 || Act Two

because second time's a charm

Read here on AO3

But it wasn’t a trick of timing that failed him.

It was consequence, driven by lust.

He had dared too close.

How was he supposed to forget the feeling of her when his mouth carried the memory? Every inhale would feel like an inquisition. He would be condemned, forever haunted by the warmth and the yield of her lips.

Charlotte had asked him not to touch the fire. Not only had he ignored her – he’d doused it in fuel and fanned the flames with his own hands.

The room stayed empty, of course. Teresa wasn’t coming back. If the last few weeks had taught him anything, it was how efficiently she could probably pack a life into a bag while cursing his name under her breath.

He didn’t resent her for it, he understood. If he could, he would smite himself. Bang on Hades’ gate and demand early admission, toothbrush in his back pocket.

Unprompted idea (you're very welcome to ignore it): remember how in season 1 Van Pelt mentions to Lisbon Asthanga yoga? Well, I think it would fit perfectly in this fic if Jane happens to visit her doing that. (It would also even the playing field a little about who's lusting after who)

Thank you 💛 I'm glad to be back to the lighter side of writing hahaha. All UST and Nicknames over here now.

Although hopefully we can soon resolve the U in the ST.

OOOOOOOOOOOHHHH, that sounds like it would be hilarious. I did similar in Purple Skies and Paper Flowers but I'm definitely tucking the idea away to use here if I can.

Jane is definitely lusting hard. I think he has been since he woke up a little hungover to an angel in his bedroom 👁🫦👁

He would absolutely need new pants if she did yoga in front of him 💥

Mentalist ◇ Bodyguard AU

10 | Unrehearsed Chemistry

read here on AO3

Water sheeted off him in beaded trails, catching in the sinewy cords of his shoulders, his chest, and the long planes of his stomach. His biceps bulged as he gripped the rail, droplets clinging to the muscle like tiny diamonds.

Her gaze betrayed her so completely it may as well have stood up and pointed.

She didn’t want to look.

That was the problem.

Her body, however, had staged a mutiny.

She’d known he was well built. The suits gave that much away – tailored too well not to notice. Broad shoulders and narrow hips, an easy, dangerous symmetry. But she hadn’t been prepared for the reality under the fabric.

Not even remotely.

It was one thing to remember the brief, scandalous glimpse of him pantsless in his bed. It was quite another thing entirely to see him shirtless in boardshorts that clung indecently to him, water turning every line and angle into an obscene slip ‘n slide you had to be her height to ride.