A/N: It's challenge time again at the Fanfic Critique Group, and here's my submission. The challenge states:

1. Must appeal to one of the five senses. Pick one and cater to it while you write.

2. It must be about the end of any type of relationship.

3. Must follow the theme of passion (interpret as you will).

4. Must be a minimum rating of PG 13.

5. Must be Between 500 and 2,500 words.

So, here we go. I don't own NCIS, CBS, or any other known entity. I hope you guys enjoy the story, and please review. :)

Touch Me

His eyes were closed, blindfold tightly tied around them. He chuckled in his characteristic way. His newest fling sure had a passion for bondage, but it was just about time to end it. He wasn't a fan of not being in control in bed, and she was.

He felt the heat radiating off of her body before her hands even rested on his arms. She sensuously slid her fingers up his arms, grabbing his wrists to reposition them. The cool metal of the handcuffs landed against his right wrist as she snapped the cuff around it. She followed suit with the left wrist, immobilizing him to the headboard.

As usual.

"Babe, you know I'm not a fan of this," he said quietly. He heard her chuckle, picking up on the rather sadistic note.

"Trust me, honey, this is the last time," she replied. Her voice was like aspartame- sweet, but fake.

"What're you doing?" He felt the bed rise as she got off of it, feeling dread rise up in him. Dread and fear. His feet were still free for the time being, while she wasn't on top of him. But he felt her presence moving toward him, in that way you always feel more when your eyes are closed.

"Don't worry about me, Tony. Worry about yourself."

He felt the pressure of her right knee sinking down on the bed beside him before her left knee went over his hips. She lifted it only enough to get it over, and her kneecap grazed ever so slightly over his tender spot. The spot that had seen a lot of use over the years, some nights more legendary than others.

Panic slowly started to increase in him as she straddled his waist. Sweat began to bubble under his skin, threatening to billow out at a moment's notice. Pressure from her being above him made his butt sink lower into the bed, and made him feel heavy. Her fingers on her left hand snaked their way into the hair on his chest, distracting him for the moment.

Whack!

He heard the sound before the whip actually snapped against his skin, striking against his side painfully. He groaned, throbbing pain taking hold of his senses and making him feel even worse. The shape of the whip stung and burned its shape into his skin, and the absence of it left a warm, fiery impression of his shape.

She leaned in, the heat radiating off her body as she did so. Her lips captured his, drowning out any moan or notion of pain that he was feeling. He felt her tongue swirling in his mouth, tasting every corner. Her passion rolled off her body in waves, and he felt every one of them swirling over him. Drowning him.

Which was why the next hit with the whip was completely unexpected.

He knew she liked it rough, but damn, this was worse than ever. He was trapped, though, so he continued to let her have her way with him. He really didn't have a choice in the matter.

He relaxed, trying to ignore the cuffs digging into his wrists and the stinging sensation left by the whip. He sighed, and felt the pressure on his hips increase slightly. He may not like everything going on, but he did like that.

Sweat began to drip out of his pores, the heat of her body mixing with his causing him to overload. He felt hot and sweet, sticky and slimy, wanting more and more. She was driving him wild with her touch, stroking all the right places. Her soft, feathery kisses all over his neck and body. The warmth of her body, draped over his, colliding together.

He was hot as things cooled down, her body no longer on his. The absence made him shiver, cold air being sucked in around him. The familiar feeling of dread began to rise in him as he realized she wasn't in the room. Panic rose with the dread, almost choking him off completely from breathing. He forced himself to relax, knowing she wouldn't hurt him.

He sensed her coming back into the room, and heard her chuckle. "Baby, uh…" he began. He could practically feel her smirking sadistically, and he tried not to freak.

"I wasn't kidding when I said this was the last time," she said. He heard the scissors snap closed, and the panic swelled a little more. "It's a shame. I actually liked you, Tony. I really did. But I couldn't just go with being another notch on your bedpost. You had to learn a lesson."

"What do you mean?"

She snapped the scissors closed close to his ear, and he jumped slightly. "What do you think I mean, Special Agent DiNozzo?" She opened the scissors back up, sliding the blade down his left arm with enough pressure to draw blood. He groaned, feeling the blood rushing to the site and out the wound.

That was going to leave a mark.

"You know what you are?" she continued. He sensed that she had more weapons that the pair of scissors, but didn't know what she had. "You're a good for nothing, lying sack of shit, that chews women up and spits them out. You'll say and do anything to get a woman into your bed. And when she gives it up, you blow her off, because either she wasn't a good enough fuck, or you're bored. And that's not very nice, Tony. Not nice at all."

He felt her wind up and take a swipe at him, the blade of a knife sliding down his chest. It was bigger than the scissors, which he felt her jab into his leg. Pain flooded the incision sites, followed by the sticky warmth of the blood leaking out of the holes. She wrapped her fingers in his chest hair, which was quickly growing matted in his blood. She leaned forward, kissing him passionately. Her warm, soft lips caressed his before brushing quickly over his cheek.

"I'm sorry, Tony." She plunged the knife into his chest, missing her landmark but not really caring. Tony was quietly groaning in pain, and she knew he'd be dead long before anyone could find him.

He felt her get up off the bed again as his head began swimming into the unconsciousness led by pain and blood loss. He felt a new level of fear and panic rising in him. Not because he was afraid she'd come back, but because of the new idea that kept popping in his head.

I hope Gibbs doesn't kill me for this.

The End