Acting Under Covers
Summary: That scene from Under Covers, replacing Tony and Ziva with Gibbs and Jenny. Smut. No excuses for the complete lack of plot beyond a few vague episode references.
Quick note from MissJayne: This was sent to me relatively anonymously by someone who would like to go by the 'super secret smut name' Black Whip. I am always happy to post Jibbs fic under Jibbsloversunited as long as it abides by our usual rules.
Leroy Jethro Gibbs was uncomfortable. That was not to say he wasn't enjoying himself; quite the contrary in fact, as his body was signaling him in no uncertain terms. He was a man who's life often depended on relying on his body; he made a point to be in tune with it, and he paid close attention to whatever messages his gut sent. The problem was that at the moment the message was coming from an area slightly lower than his gut.
Jenny sighed and shifted in her sleep, pressing even closer into his side in a way that made his not-so-little problem a lot harder to deal with – pun fully intended.
This was a terrible idea. He had known that right from the start. No, scratch that, he had knows that long before this ever started, right from the second he could see the idea forming as a glint in Jenny's eye. This was what he had been afraid of from the moment Jenny took office as Director. Well, he thought, taking in the scene, maybe not this scenario in particular… in fact, with a few changes to minor details it would be fair to say that this was a scenario he had actually been more-or-less surreptitiously hoping for.
What he had worried about was Jenny's nature. As good as she was at politics, it wasn't something she enjoyed. She was a field agent at heart, and she would want back in the field. And now here they were.
He had wanted to send Tony and Ziva.
"Won't work, Boss, they'd notice. They've got a general description, and Ziva and I are too young to fit the roles. They'll be expecting someone older, more your age… not that you're old Boss, or that I would ever suggest… shutting up now."
That was when the glint had appeared in Jenny's eyes.
"No," he said firmly.
"Er, no what, Boss?"
"Come on, Jethro," she gave him an alluring smile, "It'll be just like old times."
"You don't mean…" Tony stared, eyes wide.
Jenny smirked.
And now here they were, sharing a hotel bed while the as-yet nameless bad guys watched with an infrared camera and whoever was already awake in MTAC watched through a camera concealed in a flower arrangement. Which of course meant that walking to the bathroom to take a cold shower was out of the question.
Jethro suppressed a groan and shut his eyes. The case, he had to focus on the case. They were impersonating a pair of assassins hired to kill a still unknown target at the Marine Ball. They had to find out who the target was, assure his protection, prevent any potential back-up assassins from stepping in and catch whoever had hired the guns. Knowing why the hit had been put out in the first place would be a nice added bonus. This was no time to be distracted by… Jenny's hand brushed him not an inch from where he was most desperate for attention and he clenched his teeth.
Tom Morrow. Tony after a week of sleeping at his desk. His old Drill Sergeant. Diane. There, that was better. Diane, when she had won the settlement. Much better. Now if only Jenny wouldn't- Jenny rubbed against him again and he threw his head back in frustration.
In MTAC a very nervous McGee was listening to the transmission from the directional microphone trained on the bad guys' hotel room, and trying very hard not to look at the way the sleeping Director had wrapped herself around Gibbs. It was all and act, he repeated over and over again. It was part of their undercover assignment. It wasn't real, and therefor he wasn't intruding, wasn't spying on a private moment.
McGee desperately hoped he would never have to go undercover.
"You know, I have a bad feeling about those two." So far there had only been two men's voices; methodical as he was, McGee had labeled them Bad Guy #1 and Bad Guy #2. It was Bad Guy #1 whose voice crackled through the transmission.
"What now?" Bad Guy #2 asked, in a kind of bored irritation.
"Well, Rico said-"
"Rico's full of shit."
"But still, Rico said those two couldn't keep their hands off each other, that they were going at it every free minute. They've been here a day already, and nothing!"
"Lemme get this straight. You're upset because our guns aren't putting on a show for you?"
"No, of course not! It's just-"
"Will you let it go?" #2 demanded angrily. "They're old, for Chrissake! They probably couldn't get it on even if they wanted to."
"ButRicoshowedmethetape!" #1 blurted out.
"What?"
"He and Kay were watching them on their last op, and Rico showed me the tape from the infrared camera. I don't care how old those two are, they were going at it like rabbits!"
"Maybe they had a fight," #2 grumbled, but he didn't sound so sure anymore.
"I dunno, I think something's not right," #1 said.
#2 grunted. "We'll keep watching them," he said with an air of finality that shut #1 up.
This was bad news. This was very bad news. Terribly, horribly, ghastly bad news. Because McGee was the one who was going to have to report this. He glanced back at the screen. His bosses still appeared to be asleep. How anyone could sleep as stiffly as Gibbs was doing was a mystery to McGee, but he supposed it was in keeping with his Boss' character that he wouldn't relax even when asleep. He made a mental note of that trait, just in case his story ever called for showing LJ Tibbs asleep. Then he steeled himself.
"Boss?" he whispered through the commlink.
"What, McGee?" Gibbs snapped, and McGee jumped.
"I think there might be a problem, Boss."
The Director opened her eyes, albeit without relinquishing her hold on Gibbs. "What is it?"
"Uh, well…"
"Spit it out, McGee," Gibbs hissed.
"I, I think it's best if you listened to it for yourself." McGee couldn't face explaining this, he just couldn't. So he rewound the recording and played the relevant part.
Gibbs looked about ready to strangle someone, and McGee gave thanks for the physical distance between them. The Director looked… well, she seemed to be enjoying herself, but that couldn't be right. He really needed to improve his facial expression reading skills.
He ducked involuntarily as the Director threw a pillow at the camera. Clearly furious, then. And understandably so, considering their cover appeared to be blown. It would probably be wise to hold off on pointing out that she had made them lose the visual link…
Jethro knew exactly what the dangerous smile on Jenny's face meant. He shook his head, no. Her hand found it's way under his t-shirt and started trailing down lower and lower… He grasped it and pulled it away.
"All business," she whispered. "Just a show. We can't let this blow our op."
She had a point.
She obviously read the capitulation in his face, because she smirked before pressing her lips to his. Open mouth, but no tongue. All business, just a show.
"We have to stay under the covers," she whispered, pretending to nibble on his ear. "They'll trap the heat, blur the image on the infrared camera." She stayed just a hair's breadth away, and he could feel her hot breath rushing over his skin, driving his mind in directions that were far from 'just business.'
Jethro nodded and pulled them up around them, trying to figure out how this was going to go. How far they were going to go. He sucked in his breath as Jenny slid under the sheets, kissing the air just above his chest, working her way down. The lack of contact, the anticipation of what he know wouldn't come was driving him crazier than a real touch would have. Already he was fighting to control his breathing. Time for a change.
He flipped her onto her back suddenly, taking her aback.
"Just makin' it look realistic," he grinned when she glared at him. He moved his lips down her neck, just barely not brushing it, and was gratified to hear her breathing grow shallower. At least he wasn't the only one having a hard time with this.
Speaking of hard… his boxers were getting uncomfortably tight. He slipped a hand into them to adjust himself and gritted his teeth at the touch, fighting the urge to thrust. The look Jenny was giving him certainly wasn't helping matters.
Continuing down her neck, his lips met silk and he reached out to pull off her gown. She didn't stop him. The scene would hardly look believable if they kept their clothes on. He threw the wad of silk over the edge of the bed and turned his attention back to Jenny who was now shivering, exposed except for a thin bra and panties of the same pale pink material. He ran his index finger slowly across the warm flesh of her stomach and was gratified to see goosebumps erupt all over her skin, her nipples puckering distinctly under their thin protection.
She didn't give him much time to stare, opting instead to tear his t-shirt off violently enough that the ripping sounds told Jethro he probably wouldn't be able to wear that shirt again. He couldn't find it in him to care. Her hands were now running across his chest, tugging at the hairs. When he made to unclasp her bra, she pulled back.
"Got to," he whispered harshly. "They'd notice."
He carefully removed the bra, not-so-accidentally brushing her with his fingers as he did so. Jenny squeezed her eyes shut and hissed slightly as the cold air hit her chest, causing her nipples to harden even further. Jethro tensed, afraid to move. He wanted so badly to touch her perfect breasts, to knead them, to kiss them, to taste them. The willpower it took to not give in to his most primal urges was overwhelming. He nearly snapped when he suddenly felt Jenny's fingers inside the elastic of his boxers.
"Got to," she whispered, and he let her pull them down. The brush of the mattress against his already painful erection as he kicked his boxers off the bed made him convulse with need and bury his face against her chest.
After a few seconds to regain his control he pulled himself up again and looked at her. Their ragged breathing mixed and he saw in her eyes that she recognized it to: here was the line. Up to here everything was teasing among two people who knew each other better than they should, something that could be easily brushed off as familiarities taken to maintain their cover, or at worst slight improprieties in the heat of the moment. Anything beyond this point couldn't be ignored, would irrevocably damage the relationship, the trust they had only just started to rebuild.
It had to stay professional. Or as professional as it could when rolling around in bed naked with a former lover. He gave a slight nod to indicate he understood, and agreed. All business, just a show.
He pushed himself up, pulled the covers up to his shoulders, and positioned himself above Jenny. Bracing his hands on either side of her shoulders he started pumping up and down, careful to avoid skin contact. It was like doing pushups and he tried to focus on that, but having Jenny lying naked and moaning for effect beneath him was seriously hurting his concentration.
As Jethro moved above her, Jenny had to fight to lie still. She could see his muscles rippling, sweat glistening on his skin. Heat was emanating from his body where he was oh-so-close, but never quite touching, and it was all she could do to not wrap her legs around his body and pull him into her. Her breasts were aching for contact and she was slick and throbbing.
She shifted slightly and he slipped, falling against her, his erection hot and impossible to miss. He pushed himself off her quickly, and she stopped any teasing comment before it could leave her tongue. Of course he was hard; he was in bed with her, naked, acting out a sex scene. Insisting he shouldn't be would be ridiculous, and they both knew it. Plus, as he had undoubtedly noticed, he wasn't the only one whose body hadn't gotten the message that this nothing but a show.
It was getting hotter and hotter under the sheets as Jethro continued to pump, and the smell of sweat and heady arousal was overwhelming. Jenny shifted again, desperate for some kind of contact, and brushed against his length. He stilled, his breathing harsh and his eyes shut.
"Jenny," he hissed, jaw clenched. He was trembling all over and she understood that he had reached the limit of his control; she had to take over. She wrapped her legs around him and flipped him on his back as he bucked wildly against her, panting with need.
He couldn't suppress a whimper as she drew back and took over what had been his role, moving above him convincingly. Her breasts were heaving, full and puckered and begging to be fondled; it was almost more than he could take. His hands clawed at the sheets and he struggled to still his hips, frantic for some kind of touch. His cock was so hard it was painful and every muscle in his body was tense with utter desperation.
Jenny was moaning in earnest now, every cell in her body screaming for gratification. By now her panties were soaked and it felt like her whole body was throbbing with want. Beneath her, Jethro was rigid as a board, his eyes clenched shut, clearly clinging to the last fragments of self-control. She arched involuntarily at the sight, pressing her body into his, and with a howl his restraint snapped.
Before he was even aware of what he was doing Jethro had flipped her onto her back, ripped off her panties and plunged into her. Hands grasped blindly at anything within reach, frenziedly pulling the other closer. Moans and pants escalated into screams. She was hot and tight and with only a few thrusts he could feel himself coming undone. With a last remaining shred of awareness he moved his hand to her clit and rubbed roughly even as his vision went white and release ripped through him. Through the aftershocks he felt her clenching erratically around him and was vaguely aware of her shouting his name.
Unable to support himself any longer he collapsed and rolled off her, closing his eyes and trying to regulate his breathing.
Once her heartbeat had slowed back to something approaching normal and her ears were no longer rushing, Jenny forced herself to take stock of the situation. She didn't like what she found. They had not only crossed the carefully drawn line, they had obliterated it. They had had sex in a moment of weakness, in what amounted to nothing more than a one-night stand. It felt cold to know that as much heat and passion as there had been, it had been purely physical. He had rolled away, and for all he was lying next to her he could have been a million miles away. There was no stroke of her hair or squeeze of her hand, not even the slightest touch to indicate any kind of caring. It was probably for the best. They both had to go back to a professional relationship; it would be easier if they could just deem this a mistake brought on by circumstances out of their control, rather than anything deeper. Yes, it would be easier, but not – though she cursed herself for having to admit it – less painful.
Jethro moved slightly next to her and opened his eyes, taking in the look on her face. He shifted closer and she felt his hand cupping her face just before he brought his lips to hers. The kiss was gentle, a touch of 'I'm sorry' with the faintest hint of 'thank you,' but the main message overwhelming and impossible to miss: 'I care.'
He pulled back just enough to let her see him gift her with a small, but warm smile. She felt her own smile split her face in return even as a solitary tear leaked out of the corner of her eye. Jethro brushed it away with his thumb and pulled her into his side, pulling the covers back up over their cooling bodies before wrapping his arms around her as she pillowed her head on his chest.
A few days later found all the good guys safe and all the bad guys in custody; all that remained to be done was to evaluate all the additional information gathered from the bad guys' hard drives, a task which Tony was dedicating his full attention.
"No way. No. Way. This can't be happening!"
"Tony, I really don't think you should-"
"Be quiet, Probie. There are bigger issues here than what I should or shouldn't be doing. Like for example, do we seriously have a tape here of our esteemed Director doing the horizontal hoolah with our fearless leader?"
"They were acting, Tony. I told you, the bad guys-"
"Does that," Tony took a moment to truly appreciate the mostly fire-colored images on the screen, "look like acting to you? Trust me, I know when someone's acting. They're not acting."
"No. Gibbs and the Director wouldn't…"
"Wouldn't they? She's a hot redhead and he, well, he did get three women to marry him somehow. Think about it: They're already half naked and in bed together, and they can totally say the bad guys made them do it…" Tony trailed off, suggestively.
McGee gulped.