***Many thanks to all of you who have stuck with me through the lengthy absences between updates. My energy levels are low, and the seizures activity is nearly non-stop. Good news is that they are fairly certain my case is that of Mitochondrial Disease (of which there are many), and although this is hereditary and has no cure, there are treatments that can greatly increase the quality of life.

Again, thanks for sticking by me through thick and thin!



Chapter Two

The phone rang three times before it was picked up by an elegantly slim hand, nails done in blood red just the way he liked it. She handed him the satellite phone and lay back on the sinfully rich black silk sheets, spreading her legs for his amusement as he talked to whomever on the other line. For his sake, she'd done the butterfly shave, and when her fingers crept down her body to play with herself, she watched his eyes darken with lust.

"Well?!" he barked into the phone, only half listening as she parted her aroused swollen petals and drew out the dew, painting her lips with it until they glistened with her moisture. Oh my god he thoughtas her pink tongue emerged from the corner of her mouth and she swept it over her dew covered mouth…the noises she made positively pornographic.

He was so hard he thought he would burst right then and there, just watching her. He was concentrating so hard on what she was doing that he nearly missed his man's response.

"Mission accomplished, sir."

"What? Repeat, soldier."

"Mission accomplished, sir"

Exhilaration filled him, finally…finally!...the bastard was dead.

"And the family…the wife…the child as well?" An eye for an eye, may no one survive.

"No one survived, sir. Odds would've been 1 in 600,000,000,000,000,897"

A great wave of euphoria washed over him. "You shall have triple of what I owe you son. I will wire it in the morning. In the meantime, go out, have a good time and tell them it is on the house…mention my name."

"Th-thank you, sir. I will sir."

He put the phone down and slowly turned to her. She was red-faced and moaning, having tired of waiting for him to finish and finally taking matters into her own hands. One hand lightly plucking at one nipple and the other buried in her crotch, she made a most appealing sight to him and he watched for a few moments before stretching a hand out and curling his big fingers around hers, pushing them further into her fluttering channel. He pushed her digits out of his way and took over, finding that spot that drove her immediately insensible and rubbing it in light circles that his thumb echoed on her moist clit. He smiled a predatory smile before he roughly rolled her over and smacked her ass with his big beefy hand until it was bright red…and tears were running down her face.

Safe words be damned...tonight he was going to celebrate, by doing whatever the fucking hell he wanted to do to her.


Timothy

Half the world away, in the city of Washington D.C., the wind pierced through Tim's thin jacket like a knife through jello and he cursed himself for not wearing his warmer coat regardless of the ribbing he always got from Tony. Made of 1oo% wool it was toasty warm, and had the added benefit of being lined with the softness of lamb's wool. Unfortunately, it was also the bright colors of the McGee tartan, red being the symbol for battle, yellow a symbol for crops, and green a symbol for the forests surrounding the territory that the McGee ancestors once ruled in Scotland. His great-grandma stitched the coat by hand out of old kilts worn by his great-grandda and great-uncles.

None of this made any difference to Tony, however, who insisted on doing his best "Lucky the leprechaun" impressions around him and asking where his "pot 'o' gold" was.

Now, freezing his ass off as he walked from the warmth of the bullpen to his car, he'd given anything to have good ole' Tony right in front of him he could give him what for.

Muttering to himself he almost missed it.

Brring…brring, brrring…

Feeling the vibrations in the left pocket of his shirt, as well as hearing that faint chirp he immediately grabbed the phone out and made a vain attempt to keep his teeth from chattering as he said,

"McGee here."

The voice on the other end gave him a nasty start before he was able to whisper into the handset…

"B-boss?"


Tony and Ziva

As it turned out Tony and Ziva had only a few moments to themselves to comfort one another before more…important…matters came along to distract them from their grief. First a whimper, then a grunt, followed by two small voices conversing in their own unique language and then…all hell broke loose.

From her place in Tony's arms Ziva sighed. "They have their father's appetite." She grumbled.

He grunted as one of the twins let out a particularly loud wail. "And their mother's disposition…OW!" he looked down into her evil grin. "What was that for?" he indicated the nipple she'd just pinched.

"You deserved it," she said stoically "all I said was that they are hungry all the time…" he grabbed her and rolled her over before she could blink.

Looking into her exotic eyes that were filled with love and playfulness, he said, "can you blame me?" before catching her lips with his in a searing kiss that had her arching up to meet him. Another cry from the twins room had them breaking apart reluctantly and he told her "I'll take Isaac, and you take Rebecca. We'll get them settled quicker if we tag team." She nodded and started down the hallway to the nursery.

On his way to the kitchen to get a bottle of expressed breast milk, Tony passed a photo of the team when they went on vacation together just after Gibbs and Abby wed. They looked so happy, all of them sitting on the deck of the Abigail as they cruised the Caribbean Islands. Lost in reverie, he started when the phone rang right beside him.

"McGremlin! You scared the piss out of me, what the hell! What? You got a phone call from who?? Are you drunk? Alright, ok I've got in on 3-way…this had better be good…"

*gulp* "Boss??"


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