So, here we go. This is it. I am so flipping out right now and it is not even funny. The twelve year old has written smut, and pigs have not flew with rainbow turtlenecks on. Oh, dear lord. I feel like I should probably go bathe in holy water but...I don't own any. Don't know what came over me, my hormonally infused brain just pooped this out in nearly two hours. I've gotten most of my knowledge on this subject from some of the AMAZING senior writers here, and also from Body Heat as suggested to me by a Very Special Agent DiNozzo. Teehee. PLEASE review. I need to know if this was an epic fail and/or how exactly to ah...improve on the subject. Meh...just review. My Christmas present! :)

Alivia

Jenny Sheppard hated Christmas Eve, or more specifically, spending it alone. Every. Year.

Well, if she was honest with herself, seven years ago, for that sole year, it hadn't been spent alone. But with a certain silver-haired, icy blue eyed, fox. The tumbler of ambler liquid in her hand shook slightly as she tilted her head back and swallowed the rest of what was left in the glass, savoring the burn as it slowly killed her esophagus. Jenny's face felt hot, and her eyes watered slightly.

God, she was a miserable woman.

Earlier that night, she had turned down the black haired Goth's too kind invitation to spend it with her and the rest of Jethro's team. Jenny kind of regretted that decision now.

"You looking to get that drunk, Jen?"

Her now empty glass fell to the ground, shattering into a million tiny pieces. Jenny hadn't even heard him come in the front door.

"Jesus Christ, Jethro! You know one of these days I'll hear you and I'll, I'll..." she paused, the sudden rush of adrenaline that had flowed through her veins disappearing and dumb obliviousness taking it's place at the sight of his sexy smirk and teasing blue eyes.

"You'll what, Jenny, shoot me?" He drawled.

"Castrate you!"

His emotion took on a sudden arrogant look, tone mocking, "I'm sure you wouldn't want to do that Director."

She cocked her head to the side and stood up, forgetting the glass at her feet and certainly forgetting the fact she hadn't any shoes on. "Now why is that Special Agent Gibbs?"

He took a few steps forward, coming to stand about two feet away. She could smell the sawdust and coffee emanating from him already, and she wasn't even in his embrace. Yet.

"Because you would want to cut off the one thing needed to make your day the most-

"Shit!" Her foot was impaled on a shard of glass with the remnants of alcohol still present on the crystal. Damn, it burned.

Jenny let out a long string of curses as her blood pressure rose significantly and it began to bleed profusely, crimson beginning to drip onto the hardwood. "Oh my god."

She had been shot in the shoulder on Valentine's day while in his presence. And she had been stabbed on her birthday while in his care too. But this was infinitely worse. Why?

Jenny wasn't the Director of NCIS then. The fact she was his boss now made him a little more weary in the slightest. More concerned? Hell no. This was his Jenny they were talking about.

So with as much agility as he had, Jethro stepped carefully into the glass covering the floor and, ignoring the crunch of the crystal beneath his shoes, lifted the still snarling redhead into his arms. Rescuing her from the glass was only half of it, he then realized, as redhead's do not take kindly to being man handled. Pun intended.

Ignoring the sharp kick to his upper thigh, barely missing his most prized possessions, he walked as swiftly as he could towards the couch at the opposite end of her study. Though his knees greatly protested bending over to lay her on the couch, he did it anyway, and applauded himself mentally as he did it without the groan that threatened to escape his lips.

The encore ended, however, when he saw the blood trail that now lead across the study, and stained the tan couch. His eyes widened perceptibly as worry clouded his vision. Shit, Jenny said, and kept saying. She was right.

"Jen, lay still!"

She didn't immediately, but then simply grasped the couch firmly with one hand and put her other hand over her mouth in an attempt to hold back a shout. As Jethro lifted her foot as gently as he could in a gesture to look closer at the glass still lodged in the flesh, she tensed, and bit her finger hard. A tear slipped down her cheek.

"Jenny, we need to get you to the hospital," he said in a serious voice. Just as the words left his mouth, however, she began to shake her head back and forth fast, emerald orbs suddenly seriously leaving no room for a discussion.

"Okay then...I'm going to need to get the glass out of your foot."

She closed her eyes tightly for just a second, mouth pressed into a firm line, before nodding solemnly. "Just do it."

"On the count of three I'm going to..."

"No, just do it. Don't give me any warn-.." She let out a sharp cry as fingers grasped the shard tightly and yanked, pulling the glass from her small foot in one move.

Jenny began to cry.

It was the same type of crying Jenny had always possessed. That silent, shaking, wailing-less crying Kelly had also had the knack of doing. He turned quickly, and practically sprinted to her bathroom, eyes hard as he grabbed what little wound cleaning products she had and the gauze.

"Lean back," he murmured once he'd returned, eyes suddenly soft as he took her foot gently in his weathered hands.

He worked in silence, cleaning and then wrapping her small foot, her eyes never leaving his face. "Why are you here, Jethro?"

At his slightly raised eyebrows, she amends, "Why did you come here on Christmas Eve? It's not like we both don't know you'd rather be sanding your boat."

He shrugged. "Just thought you'd want some company, Jen."

"You've never cared before."

This stops his movements completely and as he looks up at her through slightly narrowed eyes, she suddenly feels seriously regretful of her decision to open up this can of worms. On Christmas Eve, no less. He continues wrapping her foot, and she got the impression he was in a hurry to leave.

"Listen...I should not have said that. I'm just confused, and rightfully so. You can barely look me in the eye at work and then you come traipsing into my house like some damn king- ow!"

He looked up at her sharply. "I've always cared about you, Jen," he whispered lowly, his blue eyes seemingly staring holes right through her soul. The awkward silence that followed his words was unnerving.

Jenny broke the uncomfortable stare eventually. She cleared her throat, and then swallowed. "You sure have a hell of a way of showing it, Jethro."

He chuckled, and taped off the gauze once and for all. And in a split second, he leaned in, catching her attention immediately, and laid a soft kiss on the wrapped foot, making a shiver run up her spine. With wide eyes, she barely had time to ask what he was doing before he was off his knees, on the couch beside her, and his lips were mere inches from hers.

Jenny felt like she might start hyperventilating. His knuckle brushed against her cheek for a brief moment before he reached around to cup the back of her head as his lips met hers.

It felt like they had never stopped. She'd always fought for the dominance in kissing but tonight that definitely was not the case. She reached up to grab the lapels of his jackets before pushing it off him as quickly as she could, eyes not even opening and never breaking the kiss.

Their breathe had become ragged as his hands reached down to trail beneath the thin blouse she wore and his hands skimmed over the pale, flat, plain he found there. He pushed it up, passed her breasts and stopped there before for a split second to cup them before doing away with it entirely.

Jenny moaned loudly against his mouth.

Before Jethro could do anything else, however, she began to unbutton his shirt with nimble fingertips, her mouth going dry as she felt him move his body so that those two spots lined up just right...the thoughts of what was about to come, the consequences, suddenly overtook her and felt a wave of uncertainty...what if...

"Stop thinking, Jenny," Jethro growled out, his fingers reaching behind her to unclasp her simple black bra, his eyes darkening noticeably as he took in the sight of her nipples reacting to cold air.

He groaned. "Jen."

She linked her fingers into the loops of his pants and pulled down in a gesture of, 'get this the hell away from your body', and as he shed his own Jenny rid herself of her jeans as well.

She shivered from the cold hitting her bare thighs, and barely had time for another breath before she was caught in another mind-blowing kiss. Which he broke, but then began sucking on other places. Her jaw line, her neck, that spot on her neck, the valley between her breasts, her naval, that dip where her hip bone... "Oh God, Jethro."

He grasped the edges of her black thong and pulled down, and was almost ready to ravish her then and there before she,...well, she stopped him. He looked into her emerald orbs, confusion clear in his aroused blue ones.

"I want the first time...please, Jethro, just...I need you."

She needn't say any more. He pushed down his boxers in a single move, and positioned himself at her entrance. She was more than ready. Jethro covered her mouth with his and pushed, swallowing her moan as he felt her hot warmth entrap his hard length for the first time in eight, no, nine, years.

He would be lying if he said it wasn't the most breath-taking experience in his life.

It only took a few hard thrusts and she was there, letting out a loud scream as she began to spasm around him, her hands clenching his shoulders for dear life. And then he was gone, as well, the absolute pleasure on her face sending him over the edge of euphoric please.

Spent, he rolled to the side of her and pulled her on top of him at the same time, unable to comprehend the fact they had just made love on the couch in her study. On Christmas Eve.

Regardless of thought process, he kissed her sweaty forehead and hugged her to his chest, glad to have someone to spend the night with. Jenny twisted in his grasp suddenly, her green eyes filled with mirth. Raising an eyebrow, she just gestured towards the clock on the far wall.

"It's nearly 0100. Merry Christmas, Jethro."

She laughed, and he thought it felt nice to hear the sound that so closely resembled sleigh bells.

"Yeah...Merry Christmas, Darling," he drawled, rolling them over once again and kissing her with a simple, sweet, and serious finality.

*Runs and hides under bed, cheeks slightly flushed* Please, don't shoot!