Disclaimer: NCIS and all related properties are copyright Belisarius Productions. No infringement is intended. I make no money from this project, nor do I own or control anything.
This story takes place a few months into Season 3, Gibbs and Shepherd are still sorting out the dynamics of their new positions as his former Probie is now his boss.
Rating: M or NCis-17
Warnings: Nudity, explicit language and sex.
Tag Line: Newly Appointed Director Jennifer Shepherd and Deputy Special Agent-in-Charge Leroy Jethro Gibbs have butted heads once too often. Now they'll finally settle who's on top.
On the Director's Carpet
By JMK758
Chapter One
Summons
When Leroy Gibbs strode into the bullpen he didn't make it as far as his desk when Ziva David called to him while putting on her jacket. "Director Shepherd wants to see you in her office right away." Without breaking stride, Gibbs continued out the rear and went around toward the stairs. It was nearly 1620 hours; Alpha shift gearing up to go home, but Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs and Director Jennifer Shepherd had long since stopped punching clocks. That had stopped when their new duties had begun, particularly hers, and there were times when it was less than pleasant. This was one of those times.
As he started up the stairs to the upper level catwalk, he called back: "Thanks, Ziva. If I don't survive this; you're in charge."
Not looking at his team, he could still see them out of the corner of his eye, enough to enjoy the contrasting expressions on David and DiNozzo's faces, the distress displayed in the latter due to the fact that Gibbs so seldom made jokes that the man believed him. Gibbs held his smile, knowing he needed every moment of pleasure to fortify him for the encounter to come.
x
When he arrived at the still-new Director's outer office Cynthia Sumner, Shepherd's Assistant, activated the intercom even while waving him in. "Special Agent Gibbs has arrived, Director."
'This is bad.' Gibbs mused. It was one thing for him to barrel past her on his own; quite another to be given such Right-of-Way. That Shepherd was expecting him so precipitously was a bad sign.
He frequently pushed the limit with his former partner - he always had since she had taken over Directorship of the Agency three months ago. They had a long history together, both professionally and 'privately', but it was suddenly beginning to look like his long standing luck was going to run out.
x
When he opened the door and stepped into the office, easily half the size of the bullpen downstairs, Shepherd stood up from her desk and was already on her way around it before he was halfway into the room. He didn't need to see the fire in her eyes to know that she was primed for a confrontation.
Maybe his words to Ziva hadn't been as tongue-in-cheek as he'd intended.
Well, they'd had their confrontations before, as come with all periods offeeling out. If she was ready to lock horns again, he was game.
x
"Special Agent Gibbs." Whoa. It was a very bad sign indeed when she addressed him in formal terms in privacy. He wondered again whether his 'assignment' of Ziva David as his successor was prophetic.
They were standing before her desk, and he could look down at her, her long fiery red hair framing a face that was already growing redder shade by shade, and her blue eyes blazed with incendiary fury. "Did I or did I not tell you yesterday that any dealings with the TTF are to be handled out of this office?"
"You did." He admitted, deciding that agreeing with her was the best course.
"Then why did I just hear from their Director that you were consulting with one of their Agents on the Gablowski case?"
"Gablowski's is our chief suspect."
"Gablowski is their chief suspect in an investigation into IRA grass-root monies coming out of Washington. Those monies are being used to purchase weapons in Ireland, and that is out of our jurisdiction! The TTF has made it perfectly clear - and I am again making it perfectly clear to you - that we are to keep our hands off of this issue!"
x
Gibbs knew he could tell her that the consultation she referred to had the result of bringing both Agencies valuable coordinated information on the activities of a very dangerous individual; that without the conference neither side could hope for progress in time for their work to be effective; that he had said all this in the e-mail report he had put into her e-mailbox three hours ago, but all it would have done would be to prolong the argument.
She would find the report in time and all would be well. Right now, the best thing for him to say was: "You're right. I apologize. It won't happen again."
x
She blinked, the fire going out, washed away by surprise. Leroy Jethro Gibbs never backed down on anything. And apologize? That was against the rule, whichever number it was. What was he doing?
She had been all set for a firefight, the next round being that she was in charge; that he had ignored the chain of command too often; that even if his 'gut hunches' did turn out to be often frequently right he had made her look bad too often and that if he ever did an end run around her again...
But he had left her unable to say it.
Damn him!
"Well then," she temporized, "if we're clear on that, I guess there's nothing more to say."
"I guess not." He was still being infuriatingly agreeable.
"Good, because I have had it with your 'spontaneity'."
"I always thought you liked spontaneity."
"Not from you. The next time you do this, I am going to have you in irons!"
"Frankly, Jenny, I have a much better idea."
"And what is that?"
x
With his right hand he clasped her right shoulder and spun her toward her own desk, bending her over it and grabbing her right wrist, pulling it behind her back. Too startled at first to protest, she cried out in surprise as the warm steel of his handcuff encased her wrist. "Jethro! What the hell are you doing?" She tried to get up but he had his hips pressed against her ass, his body pinning her to the desk and his hand pressing her down as he captured her left arm and pulled it back, sealing her left wrist into the trap! "Jethro!"
Clutching her shoulders, he pulled her back up and moved back far enough to turn her to face him. "What the hell are you doing?" she repeated.
"Being 'spontaneous'." Slipping his hands under her trapped arms, he pulled her close and his lips came down on hers.
x
The kiss was shockingly passionate and, trapped in his arms, she could not struggle. Then she felt his hips again pressing hers, trapping her against the edge of the desk and the clear evidence of his arousal.
Her cries were muffled by his mouth. She was certain Cynthia, at her desk outside, could hear nothing of her distress. He held her tightly in his arms, her struggles doing nothing but moving her full breasts against his chest and her hips wiggling against his -
But then, once the initial shock had passed, she started to remember things - a lot of things - about him, about them, about Paris, about–
His lips on hers started feeling better by the moment, and his body; particularly one special part; pressed against her was starting to do things to her that were not entirely unpleasant.
He brought his hands forward, his hips still trapping her rounded bottom pressed tightly to her desk, his arousal pressing against her vulva, and he started unbuttoning her jacket! Frustrated, she pulled uselessly at the cuffs restraining her; knowing it was hopeless but unable to stop herself. She had to get free, had to stop him from–
He pushed the jacket off her shoulders and down her arms to tangle about her cuffed wrists. She could barely breathe, her breaths coming in increasingly rapid gasps as he kept kissing her, and she started to feel her own passion flare in response to his force. Her protests changed against her will to tiny cries of mounting passion. Cuffed and trapped by his arms, his body pinning hers, she had no choice but to open her mouth to his, to receive and duel with his tongue.
Gibbs' hands started opening the buttons on Jenny's blouse and she cried out in outrage into his mouth even while inching back slightly to give his hands room to work. Her breasts were increasingly sensitive, experiencing the full force of every movement of his hands on her buttons, and against his pinning hips and hard force she felt her own moisture, her body responding in increasing heat even as he got her blouse open, pushing it down her arms to join her jacket in trapping her.
She pulled her mouth from his with an impassioned groan and leaned away, her chest heaving as she gasped for breath, not cooling but stoking the fire he'd ignited. It also had the advantage of pressing her hips more firmly against his.
Unable to escape, she was his helpless captive as she watched his hot hands close upon her heaving breasts, covering her white bra. He gently caressed her through the thin material, and she could not help but cry out from the flare of sensation that assailed her!
"Jeth–!" she gasped, still trying to protest his assault, and when he shifted his hips, moving himself against her, she had to bite her lip to keep from alerting the woman outside.
He kept fondling her full breasts through her bra, and she was starting to wish she hadn't worn one! She wanted to tell him to remove it, to feel his bare hands against her sensitive breasts, but could not. She was his captive. He was molesting her; raping her! She certainly could not aid in her own violation.
Holding his body close to hers for a moment, he reached behind her, searching for something on her desk. When he pulled away again, she was astounded to see him holding a pair of sharp scissors in his hand.
x
Sudden fright stole her breath, but it was a delicious terror she could not protest when he brought the sharp implement to her left breast and carefully start to cut along the frame. She stared, speechless in astonishment as he carefully cut away the cup of her bra, leaving only the more durable framing material, baring her breast. He cut around and under, and when he was done she stared at her bare breast framed by the white straps, and the flimsy cup material in his hand.
He kept his hips pressed to hers, the firm force of his aroused flesh pressing against her as he started on her right cup. She stared in lingering disbelief, watching him bare her as if opening a present! When he was done, he put the scissors on the desk behind her.
"Souvenirs," he told her, putting the two pieces of white material into his pocket.