Author's Note: Wrote this a while ago, basically right after the first chapter, but wasn't sure about posting it…
WARNING: BORDERLINE SMUT & LANGUAGE
This had been a mistake.
But hey, he'd been making numerous mistakes of this sort over the past week. And really, it wasn't entirely his fault. It wasn't anyone's fault... sort of... well, if there was anything to blame it was the simple fact of his biology. He was a man.
And as a man, it was perfectly natural that when passing by one of the closed office spaces (opposed to his team's open-plan workspace), whose door was currently wide open, that he glance inside and, that upon seeing a rather lovely, femininely-curved bottom sticking out from under a desk, he'd pause to give it some consideration. And it was quite a nice ass, round and full, and firm... the jeans it was crammed into hugging the heart-shaped rump like a second skin. The hips were alluringly wide but not exaggeratedly so, obviously tapering into a slender waist that was hidden from sight by the desk like the rest of the woman who owned that -mm- lovely ass. And he should have known who it was even without seeing the rest of her. God, how could he not?! For that bottom was deliciously proportioned to those also rather nice legs, but overall it was a petite figure. He knew everyone who worked at the Office of Special Projects, but like an idiot, his mind had simply opted for the belief that this was a new person to ...um... evaluate.
But it hadn't been.
And when she cursed aloud, frustrated from whatever computer-related (he assumed) task she was entangled in, the voice was undeniably familiar. Callen felt the blood leave his face in pure shock and then rush back to the surface as he blushed in embarrassment, like a tidal surge first sucking away the water and then hitting the shore with a massive force that left destruction in its wake. He had then fled as quickly as possible, filled with the debris of such a disastrous onslaught. He just couldn't have been thinking about how Nell Jones' bottom would feel filling his hands. Just... no. Although she admittedly was in possession of quite the teasingly tantalizing rear end. And really it hadn't been his fault he'd unwittingly stumbled upon it. How was he to have known it was her and to avert his gaze, when she rather effectively kept that work of art hidden from the world beneath those dresses she wore. And what a shame! What?! No. This was Nell. He'd never had such thoughts about her. He'd honestly never checked out her backside those few, very rare times she'd actually worn jeans to the office. She was a colleague, and sort of a friend. And not the kind of friend that one was permitted to think about goosing, which part of him couldn't stop thinking about now that the prospect had presented itself in tight, denim clad delectableness. Pausing to ogle a woman, no matter who it might have been, had been a mistake. And he'd paid for it for the rest of the day as his thoughts refused to budge, even when he (thankfully) ceased to be exposed to the object of his inappropriate desires, as he and Sam had gone to switch off sitting surveillance and support on Kensi and Deeks' ongoing undercover operation.
But, apparently, suffering from an uninvited fixation on the young woman's figure for the remainder of the day hadn't been punishment enough for his mistake. That night, in the few hours of solid sleep he'd gotten between 2am and 5am, he'd dreamed of her... of touching her. And dreams had a funny way of working their way into the subconscious, didn't they just, affecting a person's perception of the world. In short, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about Nell Jones.
And the following day when he'd caught her fighting with the vending machine, her predicament had instantly put a smile on his face and warmed him. He hadn't been able to resist teasing her. And in so doing found himself only more intrigued by the young woman he had never really taken the time to get to know on a personal level, despite considering her a friend. There was an innocence to her he found appealing, an optimism that did not seem forced and off-putting as many perpetually cheerful people could be. Most people, especially jaded and cynical federal agents such as himself, would've just accepted the fact that the vending machine had stolen their dollar, another way in which the universe had screwed them over, and moved on. But Nell Jones apparently had not been able to let the injustice slide. She had done something about it, despite how ridiculous it made her appear to others. Callen was absolutely certain that this reflected the core of her personality, and admired her for it.
But he shouldn't have flirted with her.
Helping her out by sharing his stash of candy? That was a perfectly normal thing that a friend would do. Pouring on some innuendo and blatantly checking her out was most definitely NOT a thing that a friend would do. At least, not the platonic colleague kind of friend. And then... and then she'd spilled a little bit of personal information that took root in the back of his mind like a weed that he couldn't rid himself of no matter how he tried. It wasn't hard to read between the lines. Nell Jones was in need of a good fucking. Not only was this information lethal to his staunch adherence to his 'no hanky panky with coworkers' ideal of the 'don't even think about it' variety, but she went and flirted back. God help him. He had asked for it. And he had paid for that mistake, was still paying for that mistake.
Oh, he had certainly dreamed of the petite, curvaceous and vivacious red-head again last night. And it wasn't just about touching her this time. It had been about satisfying her in a way he'd been sad to think no one had done before... If he'd read her right... And he was pretty sure he had. Men didn't give her what she needed, were afraid of breaking her. He could see why a person would want to treat such a lovely girl tenderly, but fuck, that ass. He wasn't sure that he could restrain himself even if he wanted to once he had his hands on that amazing bottom. Or the rest of her for that matter...
Because he was currently paying for the latest of his mistakes...
Nell had asked him if he could spend some time helping her practice the hand-to-hand skills Kensi had started training her in, because she didn't want to get rusty while the seasoned field agent was undercover. The operation that had claimed the junior agent and her LAPD partner was in week three and it looked as if it would take at least two more to get the information they were after. He'd agreed to what seemed a reasonable request. After all, Callen had decided to well and truly befriend the young woman (and hopefully the physical infatuation he'd developed would pass as he got to know her better), and it was something a friend would do. Nothing to worry about. Until she'd appeared in the gym in her workout clothes. And he'd thought the denim of her jeans had hugged her body like a second skin... She was wearing yoga pants that displayed every curve she'd ever hidden. And a fitted tank top over a sports bra that did nothing to hide the roundness of her full breasts. Fun Size indeed. The young woman was a whole lot of delicious in a neat little package.
"So... What have you been working on?" he asked, using all of his will power to keep his eyes fixed on her face.
"Breaking holds and general grappling," Nell responded as if she hadn't noticed his intense staring.
They went through several holds, front choke, back choke, wrist grabs, and Nell Jones displayed technically precise and effective counters. After she'd successfully freed herself from a bear hug that had lifted her off her feet, she whirled on Callen, breathless.
"Stop holding back," she said, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed. He admittedly was. But he always held back to a certain degree. The only time he gave himself free rein was in a life or death fight, when if he didn't kill his opponent he'd be dead himself. Otherwise, every violent encounter was an exercise in self control. But in this case, he was indeed holding back more than he probably had to, given what he'd seen in the past few minutes. Nell was capable, if only a novice.
"Don't treat me like glass." The young woman was as agitated as he'd ever seen her. And he had an inkling it didn't only have to do with self-defense training. "I'm not going to break."
"Alright," he said, trying not to think of the same frustration he'd seen in her when they'd flirted the other day. In this case, he was pretty certain he wasn't being a stupid pig of a man to think that Nell Jones just really needed to get laid. Generally, it was only idiot members of his own gender that made such comments about women in a bad mood. But he was quite willing to hazard that Nell was of precisely the same opinion about her present state. He shook off the inappropriate thoughts.
"Ready?" he asked. Nell assumed a defensive stance and nodded. This time he attacked her with more earnest intent. And credit to both the intelligence analyst and her trainer, Kensi Blye, she put up a pretty good fight. It took him over thirty seconds to take her down and pin her to the mat.
Normally, when his opponent was a suspect, or even one of his fellow agents, his next step would be to immediately flip them onto their stomach and twist their arm up behind their back, putting a knee into their spine. A good way to immobilize the suspect in order to cuff them, or to prove to a fellow mouthy agent that he'd utterly won. But this was Nell Jones. And she was warm, curvy, and breathing heavily beneath him. And she smelled good, like vanilla, despite the fact there was sweat beading on her skin. He should really let her go... But he didn't remove his hands from pinning her wrists to the mat at either side of her head. And he didn't move from where he lay hovering just a few inches above her, and in some places, some interesting places, laying directly on top of her. Her chest was rising and falling with such force as she tried to regain her breath that her, god, so round, breasts were bobbing in a manner he couldn't ignore, brushing his chest as she inhaled deeply and falling as she exhaled. He really shouldn't... but his gaze shifted downward between their bodies to study the alluring feminine attributes in action. Again, he marveled at how genuinely curvaceous the petite young woman was. Full heart-shaped bottom, and now breasts that were just perfectly proportioned to her small figure. Most women of her stature tended to be twigs or if carrying a little extra weight, shapeless. But, oh, was she just... just Mm. Her nipples were visible points even through the layers of support garment and tank top. He licked his lips in a subconscious reaction as he considered what it would be like to pull a mouthful of creamy flesh and pink nipple into his mouth.
It took considerable will to raise his gaze to her eyes. They were hazel, which he knew, but they also held a complexity he hadn't noticed before. A kaleidoscope of soft amber browns flecked with green and grey. She stared back into his gaze, her eyes bright and intense, still breathing hard. He wanted to kiss her. But that just wasn't something he could do. That would mean this whole thing was something... else, something other than mild (well, severe, but temporary) physical attraction. And he should really get off from-oh, fuck.
Whether it was on purpose or pure instinct, Nell had rocked her hips against his, the friction of the movement an unexpected thrill of arousal in his groin. Before he knew exactly what he was doing, he'd worked his knee between her legs, sliding it up until his thigh was pressed firmly against her pubic bone, causing her pupils to dilate as he continued to hold her gaze. He couldn't look away. And he couldn't stop. Their lower bodies were now arranged so that not only was his right thigh hitting her directly in the sweet spot, but he was straddling her right leg, her hip flush against his crotch. Some part of him screamed at himself to stop, but it was a million miles away. And the part of him that was all there in the moment couldn't resist the pull of the curvy little body beneath his, those intense, aroused hazel eyes. He rolled his hips, a slow thrust that rubbed every sensitive part of him against her hip, and if her gasp was any indication, his thigh had hit her spot-on. She didn't ask him to stop. She didn't say anything. And her eyes only seemed to beg for more, so he continued to grind against her, her hip an interesting play of soft cushioning flesh and hard, sharp bone. She was breathing hard now for a different reason than physical exertion, small noises emanating from the back of her throat that only pushed him further towards a full-blown erection. And still he could not stop. And could not look away from the intensity of those hazel eyes.
Oh, hell! She'd started moving against him, a beautiful counterpoint to the thrusting of his hips that threatened to undo him entirely. And finally he was able to break through the instinctual movement of his body, and roll off from her to lay panting on the mat, staring at the high gym ceiling as it seemed to vibrate in time with his heart pounding in his ears.
Holy shit! What the fuck would he have done if someone had walked in on that scene, caught him dry (but very nearly quite wet) humping Nell Jones? What would he have done if he hadn't regained his rational mind? Pulled off those skin-tight work-out pants and her panties and taken her in screaming, beautiful ecstasy right then and there?
He turned his head to be caught directly in Nell Jones' big-eyed gaze. She was breathing as hard as he as she still remained supine on the mat beside him, flushed a delicious pink, her freckles a stark white contrast sprinkled across her nose. But was that a faint smile on her lips...?
"I think that's enough practice," he said.
A/N: Too awkwardly smutty? How are they going to deal with the building attraction/attention?