'Haven't you heard of casual Fridays, Probie? Geez why don't you loosen up some more.' Tony would call across the bull pen and Tim would just smile and smooth the silk under his hand. Not a snag on his manicured skin. She liked his long fingered hands smooth, to feel them running over her hot skin.
Some days he would just have to wear one. He hadn't even told her. It was something he kept to himself, like a thousand other little things. It was a gift to himself, that on certain days when he felt he needed it he would pull one of his ties out. Not just any tie but one of the five. One of the five that had been left, destroyed in a twisted wet pile on his bedroom floor when she had finally left. She didn't know that he had taken them to his drycleaner who had lovingly steamed, repaired and pressed them back into respectability.
To everyone else they just looked like normal ties, nothing special, they weren't even that great a pattern. They were too subdued to standout, but not to Tim. Whenever he saw his reflection passing a window, saw it catch on the edge of his desk or felt it beneath his hands he thought of her. Of her dark thick glorious hair spilling out across his pillow, of her dark golden skin damp with sweat and longing for him. It would still make him catch his breath and would sustain him when he knew that he couldn't touch her when he saw her at work. It was forbidden. Maybe that was part of what attracted them to each other. That no one could know. It would make him smile sometimes that no would even guess seeing them together what they were capable of doing to each other with a simple kiss, with a touch, with a whisper.
As time had passed he had grown in confidence and he had worn his other ties less and less opting for more informal attire as he claimed his rightful place within the team. But still there were times when Tony's thoughtless remarks hit a little close to home, when a woman's gaze slid over him unnoticing in favor of Tony or Gibbs, when Abby's platonic friendship was flaunted in front of him that he needed to feel the heat that the ties provided. They reminded him of what he could do, of the power he had to make her cry out in the throes of delight.
They had come together only a few times and each time it was different. Long and quiet, passionate and desperate, playful and kinky, hard and fast. When a case really got to them, when the pressure from the top to perform, to find the answers built until only a physical release could soothe them. It was then and only then that they would search each other out, a silent request exchanged through heated eyes in the elevator at the end of the long day.
It was this particular time he loved the most. Something about it called to him across the months still. Perhaps it was because she trusted him to be the one in control, to control the pace, to allow him to touch her wherever he wanted until she was straining, writhing beneath his bonds.
Five ties, unremarkable to all but him. He would see in his minds eye reaching out across her naked body to slowly tie each wrist to his head board, the multitude of slow hot kisses, the fingers lovingly trailing down each arm until she shivered beneath his touch. She loved the tension, the ache of waiting, being restrained against his touch. The long strips of silk still smelling of his cologne, heavily scented with his smell proclaiming her his property.
Each slim ankle had a silk tie of its own until she was tied spread eagled on his bed, wet and waiting, eyes hot and lustful. She would toss her head watching him, his eyes on the quick rise and fall of her full smooth breasts.
The arch of her instep, the backs of her knees, the fragrant soft skin of her inner thighs, the curve of her hips, her sensitive lips, her dark nipples, her arched throat, her moist super heated core, the hollow of her elbow, the dips and rise of her ribs, her tender earlobes all received his attention as he worshipped her. His sacrifice, bound and ready to personal desire.
She was almost ready before he even entered her, so hot and tight, her warm wetness flooding him as she cried out, calling his name. It was then that he withdrew causing her to writhe impatiently, longing for a return of his touch, of his hot hands stroking her body, of his weight above her. He reached for the fifth tie and with her eyes wide he covered them, robbing her of her sight.
She sighed and lost herself in his touch. Blind, skin damp with perspiration, arching her body up yearning for him to touch her deep inside. Later she would cry his name. It was these times when their bodies were merged that she would use his name. 'Timothy' was her sigh, was her cry, was her sob.
Just thinking about the start of that long night had Tim reaching for his collar, pulling it from his neck as he felt his own temperature rise. She had bound him as surely as he had bound her. He too was restrained. He too must wait. Must wait until the time was right when they could snatch the time together in the blind velvet darkness.
He felt his eyes go to her as she stepped down the stairs from the Directors office, her smooth legs flashing in her fitted skirt and his hands involuntarily touched the knot of silk at his neck. Soon. Soon would come the time when they would come together. Their bodies would merge free of other peoples expectations with only desire to guide them.
He quietly whispered her name in his head, full of longing for what they could never be and for what they could be together.
'Cynthia'