A/N: This is the smutty sequel to Young at Heart (which doesn't have to be read to understand this).
For three amazing women; two of whom informed me when Young at Heart almost turned into a smutfest that they couldn't see why this was a problem; and the other for encouraging in the corruption of my mind. All three make minor guest appearances somewhere below…
Never
Jennifer Shepard could forgive a lot of things. The coffee shop screwing up her order. Her agents handing in files late, which inevitably led to her having to work longer into the night. A certain someone constantly borrowing her reading glasses because he refused to admit he was getting older and carry his own around with him.
More recently, she had forgiven Ducky and her old partner for teaming up together to pull a prank on her. An utterly evil prank whereby she had believed she had slept through a whole day. Something she hadn't done since college.
At first she had thought she must be ill. Seriously ill. Ill as in 'time to ask Ducky to start warming a table for her'. Then she thought someone must have slipped something into her drink; not a particularly comforting feeling for the Director of an armed federal agency. And then she had started to think of what would happen if another agency found out she was not up to the job.
Luckily, she had learnt of the deception rapidly. Otherwise, she would be begging Abby to dispose of some forensic evidence.
She preferred to forgive, but she never forgot. Which was why she had had her revenge on the two men; Ducky had 'misplaced' a body – it had turned up in the trunk of his precious Morgan – and her ex-partner had ended up attending a conference at the FBI.
However, one thing she could never forgive was someone cheating.
On anything.
And Leroy Jethro Gibbs had most definitely cheated during a drinking challenge. While on a normal day she might have forgiven him; coupled with his prank, she felt the need to kick his ass.
They had always been competitive. Originally, it had been due to her need to prove herself as a young green agent. Then as partners, she had continued to push, wanting to achieve everything. And he enjoyed the challenge she posed. It had been even better when their power games had ended in games of a more physical nature.
Recently, the tension between them had become unbearable. They both knew it, but were skirting around the situation. It was one of the reasons she had come up with her idea – to see how far they could both push before one of them snapped. It was still a game to them, a struggle for dominance. Perhaps one that could be temporarily sated tonight.
His team had been to see her that afternoon. As they had obediently filed out, blindly following their leader, she had asked Gibbs to remain for a few moments. An instruction to visit her house tonight had been issued, along with her warning of the game.
A knock came at her door and she smiled. He wasn't going to know what hit him.
Leroy Jethro Gibbs had assumed a long time ago that Jenny was above college games now. Especially after she had walked back into his life, into his heart and over his head.
As unobtainable as ever.
Nevertheless, it turned out the first female Director of an armed federal agency had no qualms about playing Never Have I Ever with one of her subordinates, even if said subordinate was her ex-partner. He knew the purpose of the game; having an immature frat boy on his team was occasionally useful.
But for the life of him, he couldn't read her. He didn't know if she was hinting at something or merely smarting after he had cheated during a drinking challenge. He had a funny feeling it was a bit of both.
Still, he was not exactly going to turn down the chance to learn more about her, or the prospect of a challenge. Certainly not when the woman in question had silently invited him into her study, gestured for him to settle into one of her surprisingly comfortable armchairs and handed him a glass of bourbon.
A fire crackled in the hearth as he took the time to study her. She looked as though she had stepped straight out of a meeting with SECNAV: a crisp red Oxford shirt, somehow highlighting her hair as it cascaded across her shoulders; a pristine black skirt that had inched its way upwards as she had relaxed into the chair, making him want to lean over and push it up even higher.
There were a few changes to her normal attire. Her stockings were gone, leaving him with miles of bare skin that was begging to be touched. Her impossibly high heels were tucked neatly in a corner. The top few buttons of her shirt were undone, hinting at treasures still concealed. And he hoped against all hope that Jennifer Shepard never went into a meeting with the SECNAV with that glint in her eye.
The glint that promised him the world if he behaved. For now.
He blatantly admired her for a few more moments, aware she knew but completely unconcerned. She had invited him into her domain. It felt as though they were the only people left in the world.
The sinful woman had come up with her own version of the rules. Considering they could easily get drunk on any discussion of their past relationship, anything that had happened between them was off the table. It would make things a little more interesting.
And difficult.
He did like a challenge.
They knew each other incredibly well; he had a sneaking suspicion they were each going to hit close with this game. And there were some things he'd always wanted to ask her…
"Shall I begin?" she teased.
He allowed himself one final examination of her legs before returning his gaze to her eyes and smirking. "Not stopping you."
"Hmm." She considered carefully. "Never have I ever had a pet walk over me while fooling around."
He glowered at her but took a drink. Rules were rules. Although he had no idea how she knew about that. "I told Diane to get rid of that cat!" he complained.
She grinned evilly. "I've always wanted a cat."
Deciding to work on changing her mind later, he cast his mind around for something to force her to drink. "Never have I ever been walked in on by a roommate."
"Not exactly fair," she observed as she took her required drink. "You never went to college."
"Touché. Details?"
She raised an eyebrow. "That wasn't in the rules."
He shrugged, remaining silent.
"Alexa was very understanding," she informed him primly. "Even though I probably scarred her for life."
He decided to ask nothing further; he wasn't sure he'd like the answers.
She took her time to compose her next question, swirling her drink in her hand and staring into the fire. "Never have I ever had to have help unhooking a bra."
He sipped in silence. She stared pointedly at him. "I was fourteen!" he defended.
"Fourteen?" She looked delighted by this news. "I was older than that before I…"
"Was deflowered?" he offered helpfully.
"I would have put it differently, but yes."
He had to ask. "How old?"
"Nineteen," she told him calmly. "Seriously, fourteen?"
"It was a small town! There wasn't much to do!"
She laughed; the sound filled the study. It made him smile – she had not laughed like that in a long time. Not since Paris. It warmed the bottom of his heart that he could still affect her in such a way, even as he was dying of embarrassment inside.
"Never have I ever kicked a guy in the nuts on purpose."
"Of course not," Jenny smirked after drinking. "You're a guy. And you just cheated – you know who I kicked."
"Did he deserve it?"
"Tobias should not have stared at my butt."
It was his turn to chuckle, remembering the incident well. Jenny had been a tad more pissed off than usual, and Tobias had been the straw to break the camel's back. It certainly was a memorable first encounter for Fornell. He was surprised the FBI agent hadn't married her.
She leant over and topped up his glass; he took the opportunity to stare at the creamy skin exposed by the angle down her shirt. He was rather disappointed when she straightened up and topped up her own drink.
"My turn," she announced. "Never have I ever slammed my brakes on to make the person tailgating me go all over the road."
He grinned as he drank. "Hell yeah."
"He went into your back, didn't he?"
He wasn't surprised she knew – he was vocal about his dislike for tailgaters. "Yep. And then I arrested him."
She giggled, the alcohol starting to have an effect on her. He wondered how much she'd had to drink before he came over or if it was just the tense atmosphere between them. They hadn't had a discussion like this – without accusations or recriminations – for a long time.
Even so, all he wanted to do was pull her to him and screw her senseless.
"Never have I ever played strip poker and ended up completely naked."
She raised the glass to her lips and paused. Eyes twinkling, she corrected the statement. "Not completely naked."
"And what were you left with?"
"My earrings."
He gave her a look; she took her forfeit. He wished he'd been there, wondering if this was when she was younger or more recently. Either way, she didn't seem bothered.
"Never have I ever been spanked," she stated.
He raised his eyebrows.
"In a non-parental manner," she corrected herself.
He glared at her while taking a sip. "There was this one girl," he began, his tone warning her to never repeat this again.
Judging by the grin on her face, she didn't care. "Name?"
"Megan."
The look on her face suggested she was going to start calling every Megan in the phone book for more details. He had to distract her and fast.
"Never have I ever pretended to drop a utensil at a restaurant as an excuse for going under the table and giving my date a blow job."
She gave him a glare that could kill a lesser man. He'd suspected since she had offered to do it in a fancy restaurant at the top of the Eiffel Tower. She knew a few too many details as to how to pull it off. "Tablecloths were involved," she growled.
He hid a smirk at her anger; she always did look cute when riled up. Her long fingers curled impatiently around her glass, reminding him of exactly what they were capable of when curled around other things.
"Never have I ever got a poison ivy rash from having sex in nature," she retorted, emerald eyes flashing.
"Never going to Ducky for help again," he muttered as he drank, knowing there was only one person who would have told his currently-homicidal ex-partner. "Never have I ever had sex at a funeral."
She brought the glass up to her lips and paused. "Wait, was that with you or someone else?" At least she was starting to calm down a little; now Gibbs wanted to kill someone.
Instead, he just stared at her.
"I'm a little drunk here!" she pointed out. When he still didn't reply, she huffed and took a sip. "Never have I ever had a fire drill occur at an inopportune time."
He decided to attain a little revenge. "Was that you or Hollis?"
She glared at him; he adored her jealousy. He took his time to drink, eyes drifting down to her legs to note how her skirt had risen a few more inches. He wanted to push the material up the rest of the way.
Trying to calm himself down and stop her murderous thoughts, he picked another question at random. "Never have I ever had sex on a rollercoaster."
She sipped her drink; he admired the line of her throat as she swallowed the bourbon. Damn if he didn't want to seduce her in here, but it was her game and her rules. She seemed to think for a moment. "Didn't last long," she noted.
He stared at her, trying to decide if he wanted more details and ultimately deciding he did not wish to torture himself any more than he already was.
"Never have I ever been frisked while off-duty," she specified, leaning over again to top up his drink. They were getting through this faster than he thought. This time he could make out her breasts straining against her bra.
He thought of cold showers and DiNozzo's hairy back, and took a sip of his drink. "Good hiding spot," he forced himself to tell her. If he was talking about mundane things, he wasn't thinking about how perfectly her breasts filled his hands.
"What was it?"
"No comment." He was never having that discussion with her. She had handcuffs.
He allowed her a few moments to try to work out his hiding spot. When she was finally focused on him and smirking again, he began.
"Never have I ever had my parents ask if I was a virgin."
Without pause, she sipped her drink. "And I lied, before you ask."
He tried to conjure up an image of a teenage Jenny Shepard lying to her parents, but failed. He'd always assumed she was a goody two-shoes.
"Never have I ever had to pick a pubic hair from between my teeth," she smirked.
He drank in silence, fuming.
"Whose was it?" Of course, she knew how to twist the screws. "Stephanie? Diane?"
He remained silent, not prepared to discuss this. "Ever kissed a girl?"
She continued to smirk. "You're supposed to say 'Never have I ever', Jethro," she warned. "And I'm pretty sure you've kissed a girl or two."
"Which is why I didn't say that," he challenged.
After looking at him for a moment, she lifted the glass to her lips and drank.
"Who?" he demanded.
"Just a friend," she replied. "Aly. Alcohol may have been involved."
"Seriously?" He wasn't all that surprised, but still.
"No," she admitted. "There was also this time with Ziva in –"
He leant over and cut her off by placing his hand over her mouth. "Stop right there," he warned her. He had to work with the Israeli on his team; it helped if he could look her in the eye.
Jenny was grinning when he withdrew his hand. She swirled the remaining bourbon in her glass as they sat in silence for a few minutes. He could feel the atmosphere changing, could feel it becoming more serious.
And then she spoke.
"Never have I ever thought of you while screwing someone else."
He looked her dead in the eye as he slowly lifted the glass to his lips and swallowed the last of the amber liquid. He lowered his arm gently and rested the glass on the arm of the chair.
Her eyes never left his as she repeated his motions.
They continued to stare at each other for a few moments, and then the dam burst and they reached forward simultaneously.
Noses bumped as they met, but neither cared. Their kiss was not gentle, instead an attempt to pour all their passion into the moment. Lips crashed together, teeth colliding as they each tried to extract their pound of flesh. Fingers scrambled to remove clothes which had suddenly become a hindrance.
Her tongue forced its way past his teeth and into his mouth. Refusing to let her have the upper hand, he fought for control, one hand round the back of her neck to pull her closer while the other struggled with the buttons on her prim Oxford shirt. Too small, too fiddly – he gave up and simply pulled, ignoring the clatter as the buttons scattered everywhere and shoving the offending item of clothing off her.
They broke the kiss for long enough to allow her to pull his shirt over his head, before lips fused again. This time he won the battle for dominance, mimicking exactly what he planned to do with the lower part of his body shortly. She moaned into his mouth as his hand grasped her breast, kneading it through the flimsy material of her bra. She withdrew her hand, which had been trailing down his stomach, to unhook her bra.
"Don't want you to struggle," she whispered teasingly in his ear, before biting his earlobe gently.
He pushed the lace away from her body, pulling her properly into his lap so he could give her curves some much needed attention. She moaned, her head falling back as she encouraged him. She continued to try to worm her hand lower, but the rocking of her hips against his was already causing him concern.
"Upstairs?" he suggested, pressing open-mouthed kisses against her neck, hunting for the point he knew would make her knees buckle.
She managed a positive noise as she groaned again, struggling to her feet and pulling him up. He took her hand and pulled her to him again, kissing her thoroughly as his hands wandered. She tugged him towards the door as her hands cupped his ass.
The hallway seemed to be a mile long. His control was never going to last the walk up the stairs; he took the opportunity to push her against the front door and continue to ravish her. She certainly wasn't complaining when he lifted her up and pinned her to the wood.
Finally, he ran his fingers up her soft inner thighs and towards her core, inching the wretched skirt upwards. Her hands were making deft work of his belt, pulling it through the loops as her teeth grazed his jaw. He groaned, fingers continuing their path. Upwards and upwards and upwards…
"Jen?" he grunted.
He didn't need to see her face to know she was smirking. "Thought panties would just get in the way," she answered, freeing the belt and dropping it at his feet.
Evil, debauched woman. Nevertheless, he wasn't complaining. He slipped a finger between her folds, smirking to himself when she stilled and moaned. Damn if she wasn't soaking wet. He rubbed her gently, in contrast to the bruising kiss they shared. She broke the contact to shamelessly moan for more.
He couldn't deny her anything, especially not when she looked like this. Another finger joined the first, while her wicked hand pressed against the bulge in his jeans in a way that would end this rapidly.
He pushed her hand away, removing his fingers as he dropped his jeans. She whimpered at the loss of contact but helped shove his boxers out of the way.
"Never have I ever had sex against this door," she murmured, grinning.
He pushed into her, reveling in the softness. There was no one who could ever take the place of his sinful redhead. "Bourbon later," he whispered in her ear.
They remained still for a few moments, both desperately wanting more but not willing to end it so soon. Eventually, he started to thrust, slowly at first, and when she began to beg for more, he stopped being gentle. One hand supported her while the other settled on her clit and rubbed softly. Her moans were so loud that he began to fear her protection detail would take an interest. But at the same time he didn't want to quiet her, enjoying every sound he could force from her mouth.
He knew this wouldn't last long; the tension between them had been growing for years and there was always the chance to take their time later. His thrusts became more urgent; they were both right on the edge…
She came first, with his name on her lips. He was right behind her, groaning into her ear. The hallway fell silent except for their gasps for oxygen.
It took them a few minutes to catch their breath. He gently lowered her down from the door and she wobbled slightly as her feet hit the floor.
"I think we need more bourbon for that forfeit," she grinned, looking like a fallen angel.
He laughed, tucking a stand of hair behind her ear. "Bring it upstairs," he suggested. "I'm sure we can think of more things we haven't done…"