This is my very first fanfiction story. I've read a lot of really great stories and they have all inspired me to write my own. It's taken me a while to gather the guts to actually post this. I hope you enjoy it and please don't hesitate to review I would like to know what you think.
Enjoy*
The apartment was more than just cramped making anyone who had claustrophobia panic instantly. The sky rolled with thunder, making the windows rattle in their frames. Jenny Shepard sighed for the hundredth time in two minutes.
She was slowly losing her patients, sharing the cramped space with someone else was starting to annoy her. Whenever they moved around she had to plaster herself against the wall. The fact that she had a fight with the other occupant of the small house didn't help much.
Jenny glared at the dark thunder clouds outside the window. She loved storms, but not this one, this one was trapping her with a man she was moments away from strangling. Turning her attention back to the small box TV in the corner of the room, she tried to pick up the storyline once again. She couldn't understand a word they were saying but the over dramatic reactions were rather entertaining.
There was a loud crash and soft cursing coming from the room behind her, and she just had to smile. The muttering became louder, informing her of the other occupant's colourful military vocabulary.
Jethro dragged the ironing board behind him, rubbing a spot on his head that he had hit earlier. To say he was irritated didn't even begin to describe how he felt, he was pissed. He glared at the redhead that sat on the couch in the small living room. He smirked at the scowl on her face as he set his iron board almost in front of the TV.
With the laundry basket under one arm and the iron in his hand he set out to iron his laundry. He rolled his eyes at the glare that was directed his way, the bloody laundry was the reason the beautiful redhead wasn't talking to him. He had only joked about her not being a good wife, it was only because she had thrown her red socks in with his boxers and now all the white ones were a strange tint of pink.
Jenny knew Jethro was being spiteful; he was blocking her view in purpose. She eyed the remote thoughtfully, wondering just how much a remote to the head would hurt. They had been at each other's throats for a while now. She had narrowed it down to two possible reasons. One, they were under a lot of stress, but weren't they always. Two, they hadn't been intimate for a while; they were either tired or injured. However Jethro's joke earlier had pushed her over the edge, but she did make the mistake of bringing up Diane and that had caused the freezing atmosphere.
Jenny tried to watch her show once more, or at least the parts she could see. She bit her lip in frustration, he was so infuriating sometimes. Deciding to watch him instead, she paid close attention in the way he ironed. She watched as he glared at the pinkish boxers, clamping her hand over her mouth she tried to stop the laughter.
The thought of a tough as nails Marine wearing pink boxers, or better yet Jethro wearing pink underwear, could send her into fits of laughter any day. Getting herself under control again, she returned to watching him.
Jethro smoothed out the crumpled material with his large palm, adjusting it slightly so he could iron. He could feel Jenny's gaze follow him. Fingering the creases slightly, he pressed the hot iron down on the pink boxer.
Jenny bit her lip once again, this time to stop herself from moaning. The lack of intimacy was driving her insane. She watched as he caressed the material again. She could feel his hands on her skin, drawing erotic patterns. Jethro's brow knitted together as he concentrated.
There wasn't anything sexy about what he was doing; in fact it was too domestic for it to even be appealing. Yet the sight of Jethro Gibbs ironing was a huge turn on for her. She could see the muscles flex through his shirt as he stretched the material slightly.
Shaking her head, she tried to remember why fantasizing about him was a bad idea. She was still angry at his stupid joke, and ironing wasn't that sexy either.
"What is it Jen?" Her eyes widened slightly, she didn't think he knew she was watching him, then again he was Jethro.
"Nothing." She hoped her voice didn't give away her strange desire to throw herself at him.
"Uh-huh." She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. Standing, she made her way towards him worming herself between him and the other couch in the small living room. Trailing her nails up and down his back, she could see him tighten his grip on the iron.
Jenny nuzzled his neck softly, enjoying the sight of goose bumps that spread over his skin, an indication that his self control was on the verge of breaking. He growled low in his throat as she drew his earlobe into her mouth, her breath hot in his ear.
Her fingers had found their way into his long hair, the pads of her fingers massaging his scalp. Jethro placed the iron on the iron board trying to be as calm as possible. He turned around quickly, surprising her slightly. His eyes were dark with lust, her breathing hitched slightly.
Pushing her down as gently as he could manage, he situated himself on top of her. She moaned at the feel of him pressing against her. She brushed her lips over his, teasing him. Losing his patients, he crashed his lips against hers. He nibbled her bottom lip, desperate to taste her. Parting her lips, she allowed him inside, fighting him for control.
Large callused hands slipped under the skimpy tank top she was wearing, her earlier fantasy finally being satisfied. His finger tips pressed into her soft flesh, a week without touching was torture.
Jenny pulled Jethro's polo shirt over his head, throwing it across the room not caring where it landed. He returned the favour, leaving her in her bra and jeans. His soft lips trailed down her throat, nipping the soft flesh, marking her. She moaned in his ear making him smirk arrogantly. He pulled away and looked at her.
"That ready Jen?" She glared at him, but his dark irises only intensified her need for him.
"Shut up Jethro." Jenny pulled him in for another long kiss. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she pulled him flush against her. She slowly started grinding her hips against his drawing a groan from him. It was her turn to smirk. Jethro pulled away quickly, his face resembling confusion. Jenny tried to pull him down again but he resisted.
"Do you smell that?"
"Jethro…" Jenny's voice was dangerously low; she wasn't in the mood for his jokes. He shook his head and pulled away, sniffing the air.
Jenny did the same, something was burning. Surveying the room, she tried to track down the source of the smell. Her eyes landed on the ironing board and the polo that was thrown over the iron. Her eyes widened in fear rather than shock.
Jethro followed her line of sight. He watched as a large hole was being burned in the polo shirt he had worn moments ago. His eyes narrowed to slits.
"That was my favourite shirt Jen."
All she did was smile; she wasn't going to be in his good books for a while.
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