Shameless smut. A bit of undercover work.
"I have a theory," Kensi murmurs against his neck as she unzips his pants. It doesn't matter how long they've been together; Deeks still gets a thrill like it's their first time.
Deeks forces himself to focus on the road instead of Kensi's lips, her tongue running across them and barely skimming his own skin and fuck does he want that tongue in other places.
"Yeah? Do you?" He prompts her and he's exceptionally proud of the steadiness of his voice. She reaches a hand into his boxers and he's acutely aware of how hard he is already against the soft skin of her hand. She doesn't usually wear jewelry, but the two new rings on her right middle and ring fingers add a different dimension to their usual activities. The metal of the rings is as warm as her skin, but solid against him in a way her fingers aren't.
"Oh, I definitely do," Kensi continues and trails her mouth up to tug on his earlobe with her teeth. It sends a shock straight through his cock and he manages to curb most of the thrust into her hand.
He takes a deep breath and lets out an equally shaky exhale as Kensi continues her leisurely strokes along his cock, not nearly a tight enough grip.
"Do you want to hear my theory, Deeks?" She's practically purring at this point, lightly scraping the nails of her hand that wasn't down his pants across his abdomen.
At this point, he would eagerly listen to her recite the Cyrillic alphabet backwards or the lyrics to every Taylor Swift song, as long as she keeps doing what she's doing.
"Yeah," he manages to choke out and he's rewarded with a strong tug on his fully hard cock.
"You see, we're going on an undercover operation as a couple, right? A nice, normal, super sexy couple who just bought a house together, right?" Kensi doesn't give him a chance to answer before she drops down and slips her mouth over his head. Deeks sucks in a breath between his teeth and forces his eyes back open. Kensi is one hell of an undercover agent, but her best skill might just be in giving head.
Through the fuzzy interior of his brain, he fumbles to remember just what their covers are. She continues as if she doesn't need him to respond, which isn't the worst thing in the world, seeing as he is doing everything in his power to not come or crash right then and there.
"My theory is that we could sell the couple angle better if we look—" another deep suck and she swirls her tongue around the ridge of his cock and he doesn't bother holding back his moan at that "—freshly-fucked."
Kensi is never this frisky right before an operation— hell, on their way to an operation. He definitely isn't complaining, and they have a full hour before their meet time anyway. They're five minutes from their cover house and six minutes from their meeting location and technically they don't have to go to the house first because they look fine as it is. Deeks attempts to calculate time and driving routes and—
"Fuck it," Deeks breathes and threads his fingers through Kensi's hair in his lap. He swing the steering wheel to the right and pulls their government-issued undercover sedan onto the shoulder of the woodsy road. "Get in the back seat and take your fucking panties off."
With his come still dripping down her thighs and their orgasmic euphoria still flowing through their veins, Kensi and Deeks ring the doorbell of the beautiful two story Victorian in the suburbs outside Los Angeles. They are under as transporters of guns and people, he reminds himself. They are under as the bad guys who can move things undetected across state and country boundaries. They are under as highly trained professionals who have been doing illegal things undetected for decades.
They still smell like sex.
A petite blonde woman opens the door and to any outside observer, she would look like the perfect suburban housewife. She's not, seeing as she smuggled weapons into and around Los Angeles county with the help of her fancy British husband. Hannah and Maximilian Gregor are their marks tonight. Befriend them, gain their trust, then sneak in business talk about how Kensi works in the new airport. Plant the idea of a partnership and let it work from there.
Easy as pie. Their first meeting could take less than an hour.
Hannah Gregor invites them in without a word, just a smirk at their current state and a nod into her foyer. Their intel indicated that Hannah and Maximilian Gregor are heavy into the swingers scene, a nice little throwback to their Justin and Melissa days, except they are the real criminals.
It's Maximilian's booming deep voice from the top of the stairs. "So, newlyweds, huh?"
They had long since decided that their covers, deep in the realm of the darkest world possible, would be bold and humorously indecent. Their matching leather jackets and Kensi's 5 inch black heels wouldn't do much for implying innocence anyway.
So Kensi grins lewdly and bites her lips as she shares a heated glance with Deeks. "Nymphos, actually. We've been told our sex life is better than most newlyweds anyway. We just decided to get a house in this quiet, little neighborhood so no one would think we have a sex dungeon."
Deeks chuckles appreciatively at the allusion to their first long term undercover mission. He's watching for signs, though, to keep this meeting from transgressing into those territories. It's one thing to joke about it, but if push came to shove, he isn't sure they could talk their way out of it. Chances are, a hail of bullets wouldn't save them either.
"Well, you've come to the right place!" Hannah expresses cheerily. "No one suspects our sex dungeon!"
Maximilian laughs and wraps an arm around his wife's thin body. "How about a welcome to the neighborhood drink before the delicious dinner Hannah prepared?"
"We would be honored." Deeks mimics his position around Kensi and gestures forward toward the well-stocked alcohol bar. He takes the moment that the Gregors have their backs turned to squeeze Kensi's flawless ass and give it a quiet slap before pressing her ahead of him.
"Hannah mentioned that you work in an airport, Maddie," Maximilian mentions at the dinner table, feigning aloofness, but Kensi and Deeks both pick up on the underlying curiosity.
Kensi plays into it by taking a slow gulp of wine and adds, "I do, heading up the cargo department. You would never believe how easy it is to get shit into this country."
Hook, line, and sinker, the Gregors share a look, and the agents know they've already won this mission.
"So my theory was correct," Kensi brags when they return to their own house that night, having successfully piqued the interest of Hannah and Maximilian Gregor.
"As if living in this house together isn't enough implication of being a couple, the hickeys on your tits definitely gave it away," Deeks agrees as he unbuttons his shirt and slings it into their clothes hamper.
"But, just to keep up appearances, I think we should solidify the fact that we are indeed a married couple. A nymphomaniac married couple, actually, since we don't want to be known as liars to the Gregors," Kensi continues and slips the straps of her dress down her arms and lets the dress pool at her ankles.
Deeks takes a deep breath and he swears that he can smell her arousal from across the room. It takes him two seconds to cross the room and another three before Kensi is on her back, his fingers buried inside her and her moans echoing off the wall.
Their fucking wouldn't be measured in seconds. That number would be astronomical.
Author's Note: Title is Bad Girlfriend by Theory of a Deadman. My favorite line of the song is Mess with her, she'll fuck you up. Fitting for Kensi, huh?