AUTHOR'S NOTE - Will someone please stop this flood of smut before I end up dead? :)
All the usual's apply - not beta'd and still pretending to know English.
DEDICATED - to gossipgirrlxoxo, as a welcome gift, in hope that she will finally start posting her stories here! *hint hint* :)
DISCLAIMER - Not only do I not own NCIS, but as of tonight, I won't even get my weekly dose of it! Damn summer break!
A LITTLE NIGHT MUSIC
Jenny Shepard hated days like this; evenings like this; nights like this. She hated mornings like this. For the past thirty-six hours she had been trapped in the MTAC, on the lockdown. When she finally managed to get to her office, it was a quarter to two in the morning. The building was, no question, completely deserted, and still she couldn't go home. She had some reports that needed to be signed immediately, before she could even think of it. When she finally found her way to the abandoned bed, it was little after four.
It has also been thirty-six hours since she last saw her lover. And she was really getting agitated.
She slipped into her oversized blue T-shirt and fell asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.
Jethro Gibbs finally gave up on the case for a day, or better yet – night, and sent his overwrought agents home from the crime scene they were working on. He hasn't seen his lover in over a day and he truly hoped she was out of the MTAC and in the bed by the time he got home.
Still, he was surprised when he actually found her there, lying in the fetal position on her side of the bed, red hair all over the white pillowcase, blue T-shirt riding high on her back. He smiled.
Quietly, he left for the bathroom, returning twenty minutes later and sliding in the bed, next to her. He pulled the covers even lower, T-shirt even higher, and started to gently kiss her back, his hand caressing her abdomen.
She stirred slightly, but continued on sleeping; he kept with his ministrations, his hand sliding dangerously low, dipping under the hem of her cotton panties. She sighed in her sleep when his fingers touched her, but still it was not enough to wake her up. He was now kissing her neck, his hand working on removing the piece of underwear.
"I'm going to kill you," – she murmured barely understandable, but lifting her hips for him to slide the cotton down anyway.
"Sure you will," – he smirked, his hand returning to its previous task as she turned on her back.
She opened her eyes, if only slightly, a moan escaping her parted lips as his fingers slid into her. She licked her lips and brought his face down for a kiss.
Eyes closed again, hands falling to the sides of her head, but the lips stayed parted and the moans kept on coming.
He smirked again. He loved her like that, half asleep, but willing nonetheless. He started kissing her abdomen, his fingers diligently working on his task to bring her over the edge. And just as she was there, he stopped.
Her eyes flew open, the annoyance almost palpable, the proverbial question mark over her head. She pushed him on his back, now fully awake, and lay on top of him, pulling the covers from the end of the bed over their heads.
"I hate it when you wake me up," – she whispered against his neck, trying to adjust herself over him.
"You love it," – he whispered back, gripping her hips.
She smirked on his sharp intake of breath as her hands gripped him. He entered her slowly, stopping only when he was all the way in. Her legs were on either side of him and, from the waist up, every inch of their bodies was touching. Her hands gripped his on her hips, moving them above his head and entwining their fingers as she started moving on top of him.
He loved it when she pulled the covers over them. It would get so hot underneath; they would both be sweaty in the matter of seconds. And the complete darkness made their other senses go into an overdrive.
And true to the experience, they were both covered in the thin layer of sweat not two minutes later; hands gripped together, faces barely an inch apart, breaths mingling. She picked up the pace and by the telltale quiver of his lower abdomen, she could tell he was as close as she was. A few more thrusts and they both spiralled over the edge, their moans muffled by a passionate kiss.
A couple of minutes later, when their breathing normalised somewhat, he slipped out of her and she sat up, moving the covers lower so they could have some fresh air. He grabbed the hem of her T-shirt, now completely covered in sweat, and pulled it upwards; throwing it behind her back once it was over her head. She bent lower, kissing him soundly on the lips before settling her head back on the pillow, nuzzling his neck; half sprawled over him.
"I missed you," – he whispered, kissing her cheek and pulling the covers back up over their naked and rapidly cooling bodies.
She tightened her hold on his waist, pulling herself closer, if that was even possible; their legs intertwined.
"Good night, Jethro," – she said purposefully before kissing his neck softly.
- THE END -