"Step out," he instructed quietly, his eyes set and focused. The fabric of the jeans pooling around her ankles felt oddly acerbic as she bit her lip and lifted one slender ankle at a time. He never took his eyes off her as she scampered out of the denim. He stood directly in front of her, his presence both comforting and intoxicating. He said nothing for a moment as he stared at her bared legs, encased only in white ankle socks. "Pick them up, fold them and place them on the couch. You won't be needing them again tonight." Her cheeks flamed at the tone and she hesitated instinctively. He cleared his throat. "It would not fall in your favour for me to ask again, Cloda."
Her stomach caterwauled over itself as she swallowed. Moving with her natural born grace, she bent down and plucked the jeans off the floor with maddeningly shaking heads. His eyes continued to bore through her as she jerkily folded the jeans as instructed. The short trip to the couch felt like an eternity, her senses feeling his gaze upon her all the while. The slow walk back to the corner felt more like a marathon and he made no effort to neutralise the misconception. His jaw was taut, he was angry. He was very angry, but he was also very much in control. He swallowed her in his gaze for a moment longer, allowing her to sweat. A simple black t-shirt, satin blue panties and skimpy white socks was now all that clothed her.
"Panties down, now. Bare that bottom."
The flush that sprawled across her face matched her fiery hair as she gulped subtly. She stole a glance at him and instantly saw that there would be no relenting. The two stood frozen in their very own moment, one heart thumping a lot faster than the other. She met his gaze in a way that only a woman of her characteristic valour could and steeled herself. Slender hands were raised to the waistband of her sheer panties and she curled her fingers around it. Knowing that this moment was far from sensual, she didn't try to use the pull of allure. She tugged her panties down over her shapely behind and allowed them to fall around her ankles. He said nothing for the longest moment as the soft fabric rested upon her feet, appraising her soul with his eyes.
"Step out and hand them to me."
Her eyes flooded with anxious anticipation as she once again raised a slender ankle. Swallowing deeply, she bent down and scooped the satin up from the floor. She met his eyes as she held them out and they still burned with disappointment and anger. She couldn't hide the flinch that crossed her face at that realisation and so she dropped her head. Suddenly, the lack of modesty which wouldn't have bothered her in the slightest yesterday, became a prominent issue. She instinctively placed her hands over her equally fiery pubic hair and blushed furiously. Seeing this, he shook his head and tipped her head up gently to meet his eyes.
"No no no, I don't think so," he murmured throatily, "Modesty is for good girls who can follow simple rules that are in place for their own good. Right now, you are not a good girl. You are not a good girl who can follow simple rules put in place for your own good. So, you can take your hands away from there and put them on top of your head. You will leave them there until we are finished our discussion or when I tell you otherwise." His breath was cool and pleasant on her neck as he spoke, but his words sent shivers down her spine. Noting her hesitation, he raised an expressive brow. "I won't ask twice, Cloda, so take your hands away from there and put them on your head. Interlock your fingers, this minute."
The blush that crossed her face was faster and much more furious than its predecessor.
Her fingers linked together on the top of her soft hair and she was rendered utterly defenceless to his probing stare. "Now," he continued quietly, in a voice that dripped and drooled authority, "I think it's time we had a little talk. Don't you?" Clearly this was not a rhetorical question and she sucked some air down her windpipe, helped by her rigid stance. Her quiet "yes," was not like her usual, bouncy and light hearted tone. The simple syllable was laden down with guilt, regret and apprehension. He drank her in for a moment, before suddenly moving behind her.
She hitched her breath as he disappeared from her view, but that breath hitched a lot more when a ringing swat bounced around the room. Straightening up from the single swat he had landed across her porcelain bottom, Gibbs returned to his original position. "Why did I just spank you?" he asked calmly, "What did you forget?" He folded his arms across his chest as he saw the confusion spark in her wide eyes. "Quickly now," he instructed, "You have five seconds to tell me what you forgot, or I'm going to spank you again. More than once. Now, you have a very serious punishment coming up so if I were you, I wouldn't go getting unnecessary extras." He raised a brow. "What did you forget?"
She stared with a quickened pulse, her mind racing. Thankfully, the sting that only his hand could create with one swat helped her thinking. "Sir," she answered quietly, "I forgot to call you sir." He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving her. "We've spoken about that before, haven't we Cloda? It would seem that all these lessons I've been trying to teach you are only temporary for you. Which brings me back to why we're here. Food. We're here because of food, aren't we young lady? We're not having dinner and a movie, because of food. You're standing in front of me with no panties, because of food. Isn't that right?"
She felt her arms tremble atop her head as she bit down on her lip.
"Yes sir."
He nodded. "Good. Now, do you remember the very first spanking you ever got from me Cloda? The first discipline spanking? Can you tell me what that was for, can you tell me what you did so wrong to warrant being put across my knee and having your bare bottom reddened?" The heat in her cheeks was indicative of the kind of heat was awaiting a different set of cheeks. He always did this when she was in serious trouble. It had been nine months since the James fiasco and their relationship had blossomed and morphed in the year or so they'd been together. He rarely spanked her in a disciplinary style, but when he did, it was never nothing. It was always an occasion, that both would rather skip, but both knew to be necessary and wildly beneficial.
"I didn't eat," she murmured quietly, "I didn't eat and I blacked out because of it sir."
He nodded with an almost terrifying timbre.
"And we had a long discussion at that stage. I spanked you and we agreed you both deserved and needed it. We make an agreement, an honour bound agreement, that you would eat. That you would take care of yourself. That you would put aside even ten minutes to grab some lunch or some dinner. That you would never, ever work a ridiculously long shift again without putting a single crumb in your stomach. We made that agreement, and until now, you've stuck to that agreement. Yet today, you decided to hell with our agreement. You decided to forget about the promise you made to me. You decided to ignore one of the very few rules we agreed on in our relationship. You didn't eat, you didn't take care of yourself and you worked a ridiculously long shift without putting a crumb in your stomach."
His eyes flashed dangerously.
"And I would like to know why, young lady and I would like to know now."
To her immense shame, Cloda felt tears well up in her eyes. She never cried, not really. She was always the strong one, the one everyone turned to and the one everyone leaned on. She was robust and she was unshakeable and she faced adversity with a raised chin and stiff shoulders. But here, bared and vulnerable in front of the man she was rapidly falling irrevocably in love with, she had no shield. Her hands twisted in her hair as she tried to think, but his look of disappointment and his calm of voice of concern flooded her brain. Breathing in deeply, she knew better than to shrug but felt that was all she could offer. The truth…it was painfully idiotic. But she knew he was expecting it and she knew she had to give it.
"I forgot."
The look on his face jolted her memory further and she rapidly cleared her throat.
"I forgot, sir."
He said nothing for a moment, studying her thoughtfully. "Turn around," he instructed quietly, "Turn around and bend over. Hands on your knees, bottom up nice and high." She gulped and opened her mouth to argue but instantly thought better of it. Pivoting slowly, she faced away from him and steeled herself slowly. Curving her spine with the most difficulty it had ever taken, she leaned forwards and rested her hands on her knees. Her milky white bottom was presented at a perfect height as he moved forwards and rested a hand on the small of her warm back. "Why is it important that you address me correctly during any punishment?" he asked quietly, "Why do I insist on it Cloda, why do we require it?"
She pushed into the warmth of his hand, wishing it could stay there.
"Because it's important to differentiate between you as Gibbs and you as sir," she whispered jerkily, "and because it's important to know than when a punishment is over, it's over. You go back to being Gibbs and there's never any lingering equality issues." He nodded and couldn't help but rub her back in praise. "You realise I do this because I can't stand the idea of any harm coming to you, whether it's self inflicted or not? But I am never more important or more knowing than you, that is why I insist on you addressing me properly. I don't want you think of me of anything other than Gibbs for ninety nine percent of the time. Do you understand?"
She felt another wave of guilt crash over at his thoughtfulness.
"Yes sir."
He increased the hold on her back as he nodded. "Good, then keep still because this is a reminder of how seriously I take that ninety-nine/one percent split." With that, he raised a hand and brought it smartly down across the prone, plump buttocks. Before she could even hiss at the instant sting, nine more swats had cracked down and thoroughly heated a singular portion of her right cheek. Gibbs instantly stepped back into his original position and cleared his throat. "Stand up, turn around and I want hands back on head."
Her bottom carried a singular red splotch which would soon blend into a much wider hue of crimson. She turned to face him and placed her hands back on her head as directed, breathing deeply. "Have I made myself clear on the proper addressing system around here?" he asked quietly, "Because I really don't want to draw out this…conversation any longer than necessary." She nodded instinctively and cleared her throat. "It's clear, sir."
Gibbs nodded, satisfied.
"So, why did you forget?" he continued, as if there had been interruption. "How did you come to forget to intake any food for thirteen hours? How did you become so fatigued between a lack of food and a crazy workload, that you fell asleep for five minutes at a pre-op sanitising station. How did it come about that your head slipped off your hand and your elbow was thrown forward onto that table causing…" He sucked in a sharp breath, his anger rising once more. "Causing a deep cut on your arm that was utterly unnecessary and had you been slightly more unfortunate, could have taken an eye out. How did all that happen? How could that have possibly happened, given that I've addressed this issue with you before?"
She felt the cool hand of regret grasp her internals as she groaned internally.
But it was a question and a question required an answer.
"I wasn't thinking, I got so caught up in work…and I just didn't think." With the courage he loved about her she looked him dead in the eye and stared. "I know that's not an excuse, I'm not trying to give you an excuse. It was carelessness and thoughtlessness and I'm really sorry." Her arms were beginning to strain somewhat but she didn't let it show. "I know we agreed that I'd never do that again and I promise to make sure that this time…it never does happen again."
He raised a brow.
"I think you need a little help with that promise, don't you?"
She flushed and couldn't quite help a small gulp.
"Yes sir."
He gazed at her thoughtfully for a moment, before turning to look behind him. They had agreed a couple of months back on certain pragmatic issues. Fun, sensual and downright silly play always took place in the bedroom, or anywhere else in the house that appealed. But…discipline, had its own nook of the living room. Gibbs had moved an ancient cabinet from a shaded corner and replaced it with a straight backed, relatively high wooden chair. Beside that wooden chair stood a small table with a large locked drawer. Atop the table stood a box of tissues, a soothing salve lotion and small, ornate bowl. To any outsider, it seemed like a tastefully decorated curio of no noteworthiness. To Gibbs and Cloda however, the salve was an important part of aftercare, as were the tissues. The bowl, when in use, was filled with lukewarm water that with a gentle facecloth, Gibbs used to dab away her tears. Inside the locked drawer lay a thick oak hairbrush, a short unyielding wooden spoon and a very new, and never used addition of a very short, thick leather strap.
Gibbs referred to the area at large as "the naughty corner."
Any reference to it never failed to set Cloda's face aglow and her pulse askew.
Producing a small key from his pocket, he quietly opened the drawer and thought quickly. Deciding against the strap and spoon he extracted the hard wooden brush and quietly closed the drawer. Turning to face her, he felt another jolt of pride when she didn't falter or flounder. She stared at him resolutely, her eyes saying more than her mouth ever could. "Do you agree with me that you need and deserve a healthy dose of this brush across your bare backside?" he asked quietly, and she knew he wanted a genuine answer. "Because if you don't, I will listen to you. I may not agree or relent to you, but I give you my word that I'll listen."
She swallowed a dry swallow as her every instinct screamed at her to lie.
But she could not.
She would not.
"Yes sir," she said quietly, but not meekly, never meekly, "I agree."
"Why?"
She suppressed a groan as she peeled her lips apart. "Because I broke our agreement. Because I didn't do as I said I would do and because I put myself at unnecessary risk because of it. Because I put my patients at unnecessary risk. Because we agreed to have very few rules, but we also agreed that rules were not interchangeable with my mood." She locked eyes with him once more. "Because I deserve it."
He stared for a moment, his eyes scorching a hole into her soul.
"Good girl," he eventually murmured as a soft glow shone in his eyes. Straightening himself up by reminding himself firmly there would be plenty of time to be soft later, he tapped the brush in his hands. He had to keep her safe, even from himself. He could be proud later. "Now, you've not had this on your backside yet, have you?" Looking at the brush in poorly concealed distaste, Cloda shook her head. They had chosen the three implements together, at her insistence. Gibbs had been initially reluctant to use more than his hand, but she had convinced him that she required tougher measures. They had found that fact out together during her last disciplinary spanking and he had to agree with her. She was a tough cookie and sometimes his hand just wasn't going to cut it.
"What did I tell you the first time I spanked you? What did I tell you would happen if I ever had to punish you for not eating again?"
Cloda was an analytical woman with a strong memory. His words were ingrained into her mind as the gateway to a new life and she would never forget anything about that very first time. She forced her voice to remain steady as she flushed heartily once more. "That if you ever had to spank me for the same thing, I would look back on that spanking as a Christmas present, sir." She blushed even more furiously and dropped her head, embarrassment coursing through her. "Look at me," he instructed quietly, "You will not look away when I am speaking to you young lady, you know better."
She did, but she couldn't help how long it took her to drag her eyes back to his.
"Now," he continued, "Let me get straight to the point. You are going to have your little butt torn up in the next minute or so. There is nothing more to say on the matter. You have no reasons for your behaviour that I'm willing to accept and you knew the consequences for breaking the eating rule. You should know that as angry as I am with you Cloda, I'm more disappointed than anything. I am disappointed in you. You let me down, but more importantly you let yourself down. You…I will not allow anyone to hurt you, especially you. If I have to put you across my knee every single night before bed for a week to make sure you don't hurt yourself, then that is what I will do."
He didn't miss the look of horror that shot across her face.
"Don't underestimate me," he intoned softly, "I would do it in a heartbeat. You have got to start taking better care of yourself. You are brilliant, intelligent and resilient woman. Yet you have behaved no better than an irresponsible and naughty little girl. I'm not going to stand for it, I'm simply not going to allow it to continue."
He arched a brow.
"What am I not going to allow to continue, Cloda?"
She glowed with embarrassment as she sucked in some air. She knew there was no avoiding the question. "You're not going to allow me to continue acting like a irresponsible and naughty little girl sir," she whispered, wishing the ground would swallow her up. He shook his head and put a hand behind his ear. "What was that young lady? I didn't quite catch it." She scowled then, but it quickly fell away when his eyes blazed in response. Speaking clearly and succinctly, she repeated herself as the heat in her cheeks continued to grow.
"Good," he nodded, "I don't expect to have to strain to hear your answers. Is that clear?"
She resisted rolling her eyes, a very wise move.
"Yes sir."
He nodded slowly and then without further adieu, stepped the three steps to the chair that may as well have been electric. Sitting himself down slowly, he watched her carefully as he unbuttoned his right sleeve and began slowly rolling it up to his elbow. She stared in horrified fascination as he prepared himself with his meticulous gate. The chair was positioned far away enough from the wall that his swing wasn't hampered but it didn't look out of place. The cabinet was slightly behind the chair, so that he head wouldn't be in danger of colliding with it. She felt the breath hitch in her throat as he pointed to the spot in front of him.
"To me."
She walked slowly, but automatically. The logical part of her knew it was best to get it over with as quickly as possible, but she knew it would be a staggeringly painful process. She came to a rest in front of him, and he reached out to pull her between his knees, gently. Looking up at her, he wished he didn't have to do what he was about to do, but he did, and there was no point wasting time in hesitation. He held out the brush to her, which she took automatically, relieved to remove her hands from her head.
"You are going to hold this while I spank you," Gibbs instructed with a soft authority. "You are going to look at it and know that no matter how sore your bottom is in that moment, it's going to get a lot worse. You are going to look at it and know that your punishment is far from over. You are going to look at it and know that it is going to crack down on your naughty little bottom. You are not going to let go of it until I tell you to. If you do," he gestured slowly to the cabinet, and her horrified gaze followed. "If you do… I am going to try out that strap and I don't think you want that."
He steeled himself to continue.
"I want that brush in your hand while I use my hand to light up your behind. I want you thinking about how foolishly you've behaved. I want you thinking about how you're going to have your bare bottom blistered like a silly little girl. I want you thinking about how you didn't act like the sensible, intelligent and capable woman you are. I want you thinking about how I have no choice but to treat you like the careless and reckless girl you've acted like. I want you thinking about all these things when you're over my knee and waiting to hand me that brush. I think it's time you were taken firmly in hand on things like this, and I think this is just the right way to do it."
He arched a terrifying brow.
"Is that clear, young lady?"
It was all she could do to nod, she simply couldn't vocalise and he seemed to accept that. His words leeched into her, spreading regret like a venom. It always astounded her how his words could be more effective than any physical chastisement. They were spoken in an utterly calm tone, but they radiated with a quiet anger and authority. She felt the brush weigh heavily in her arms and knew this was a spanking she was never going to forget. The very thought sent her heart aflutter, and not in the pleasant, sensual way she'd become accustomed to.
"Now, don't you have something you'd like to ask me?"
She groaned with misery but he was utterly unmoved. "If I have to ask twice, you're going to spend more time alone in your naughty corner to give you time to think," he warned quietly, "I have very little patience left and you'd do well not to push it." Gulping, she nodded and peeled her lips apart with difficulty. She hated his part nearly as much as the spanking itself, but she knew it was effective in its own, heinous way.
"Please could you spank my bare bottom long and hard, so I can remember to be a good girl, sir?"
He leant back in the chair and nodded with surety.
"Certainly."
He tapped his knee as she moved slowly and silently to his side and raised a brow.
"Bend that naughty behind over my knee this second then. It has some serious consequences to reap."
Her breath hitched desperately in her throat as she did as she was bid. His thighs were firm and warm under her pelvic bone as she draped herself over his knee. She fit like a glove, and they both knew it. The chair was high enough that even with her tall frame, she dangled slightly over his knee, which was why he chose it, she was sure. His arm wrapped securely around her waist and her fate was sealed. Her porcelain bottom was presented at the perfect angle and with Gibbs' unyielding arm fastened around her, it would be going nowhere until he decreed it.
"Remember what I told you about holding onto that brush Cloda," he warned quietly, as he tugged her closer to him. "I see it anywhere other than in your hand or mine, and you will be one very sorry young lady. Now, you know the rules. Keep the squirming to a minimum but you cry all you need. Your hands do not come back to cover your butt, or there'll be extra at the end. You answer any question that I ask you and we'll get through this as best we can." He tapped her quivering cheeks with his land lightly. "Do you understand."
Her cheeks flamed the same colour that their rear counterparts were anticipating.
"Yes sir."
He tapped her bottom lightly again with a murmured "good girl."
And with that, the hand was removed. Cloda felt a bizarre sense of loss as the warm presence left her prone buttocks. Bizarre in the sense that she knew it was going to return, again and again, harder and harder. An eternity seemed to pass as his broad, hard hand whistled through the air. When it careered against her soft cheeks, the intensity of the swat took her breath away. He sure wasn't messing around. His dislike for repeat offences which had been a purely theoretical issue until now, was certainly being made clear. Before she could recover with more than a hiss from the first swat, the second crashed down on her bare cheeks. Gibbs was a methodical man and that translated into his discipline methods. His large hand covered most of each cheek as it fell and he made the most of the leathery texture of his palms.
The milky skin instantly reacted to his firm swats. Splotches of pink popped up under his hand immediately and he knew that her bottom would be a gleaming crimson by the time he was finished with her. She was draped at a perfect angle, allowing him to alternate his punishing hand logically. He spanked at a fast and yet thorough pace. He focussed on the centre part of her well presented behind to begin with, the sit spots would be well addressed later. The room sung with the sounds of skin on skin as he set about re-teaching a lesson he never wanted to revisit. Her gasping yelps were not unexpected, for he was far from holding back, but he refused to let them deter him.
She needed teaching a lesson and she was trusting him to teach it.
He wouldn't let her down.
Cloda couldn't believe how quickly the tears sprung up in her eyes. The drawn out and painful scolding she had received had already battered her defences. The never ending hand was the final nail in the coffin of her emotions. He was unyielding, allowing just enough time for the pain of one swat to peak before landing another, leaving no time for recovery. Her hips moves against her will, gyrating against his warm thighs, squirming her bottom away from the punishing hand.
He easily popped her back into place.
There were no words spoken as her tears began to fall. She didn't even feel ashamed at the early appearance of the salty wetness. She was with Gibbs and he would never judge her. As his hand dropped to apply a thick, crimson coat to her sit spots she couldn't help the strangled whimper that tore from her throat. That, it seemed, was enough to draw a vocalisation from him. "This is what happens to naughty girls who don't follow the rules they agreed to follow Cloda," he rebuked quietly, her sounds of distress killing him. "You deserve this and you are going to learn from this, even if it kills me. I want you looking at that brush young lady, because we are far from done here."
With that, he relapsed into silence and continued his rigid deliverance of a pre-agreed upon chastisement. With his words ringing in her eyes and the brush weighing in her hands, Cloda gave in. With a shuddering grasp as she spanked her upper thighs without compunction, she gave into peals of misery soaked sobbing. He knew his verbal chastisement had heartily contributed to the early crying, but Gibbs forced himself to maintain the firm pace and strength of Cloda's spanking. He tipped her forward and focused on her tender upper curve. "Every time you sit for the next week, you're going to remember this," he told her softly. "You are going to remember that you had to have your bottom spanked in order for you to take care of yourself. You are going to remember what happens when you defy me and put yourself in danger."
He refocused on the shimmering red hue that adorned the middle of her reddened buttocks.
Her tears of regret and anguish spilled onto the heavy wooden brush in her hands. She was quite sure she couldn't take any more, he had been spanking her for hours. But she also knew that he hadn't and that he would never give her more than she could take. She sobbed heartily as his leathery hand fell again and again, reminding her in no uncertain terms that eating was not an optional occupation. As she spluttered through fresh tears however, the steady tempo suddenly ceased.
Gibbs, feeling wretched, rubbed a hand gently over her scalded bottom.
"Easy, baby," he murmured softly, "You're ok, I got you…I got you. Take a breath…c'mon now, catch your breath. It's going to be ok, you're doing great. It'll all be over soon…just breathe for me Pup, just breathe for me…"
She sobbed furiously at the softness in his tone and the gentle salve of his warm touch. He rubbed along her back and spoke quietly to her, assuring her how she was loved, how was she treasured. How she made a mistake, and she was paying for it. How it would be all behind them soon, how proud he was of her bravery. How proud he was of her self-awareness. He held her for a long time, until her sobbing had petered out and rubbed her back with his warm hand.
But he knew that all breaks had to come to an end and to draw it out would be cruel. Swallowing and praying he was doing the right thing, he steeled himself. "It's time for the brush now young lady," he instructed quietly, readopting his firm disposition with a natural seamlessness. "If you had learned your lesson the first time, I wouldn't have to use it. If you had taken what you should have taken from your first spanking, you wouldn't be here. So I need to make sure you learn this time." He tapped her back lightly as she stiffened at his words. "Hand it to me."
A year seemed to trail by as she wiped her damp eyes and sniffled with such misery he winced.
But the brush suddenly appeared and he took it from her gently.
"Good girl," he praised quietly, refastening his arm around her waist. "Now, stay still. We're nearly there." He tugged her tighter to him as he appraised the wood in his hand and adjusted the strength of his swing accordingly. He wanted to teach her, not torture her. The first crack of the thick wood across her furiously red cheeks had him wincing right along with her.
He felt his heart tear in two as her wail of anguish reached his ears. He knew even one thwack of the brush would reignite the fire his hand had kindled across her behind. He held her tight as she began squirming involuntarily as the thick wooden careered against her very well punished sit spots. "You will never force me to do this again because of food Cloda," he warned quietly, his voice carrying over the sounds of wood to skin and her yelping sobbing. "If you do, that strap is going to come out of that drawer and its going to get very well acquainted with your backside. I'm not joking, that is your first and final notice. No more forgetting to eat and take basic care of yourself, I'm warning you."
With that, he fell silent as he resolved to bring the exhausting punishment to a merciful and logical close. Conscious that only relatively light taps of the brush were necessary, he focussed on ensuring all round coverage as Cloda descended into silent weeping over his knee, utterly consumed and encased by her chastisement. He grit his teeth as he landed the last four swats, two to each under curve of her flaming red cheeks, before throwing the brush out of his hand with staggering relief. Without missing a beat he reached down and expertly scooped her up into his arms, standing with ease. Her face was buried in his chest as he walked to the couch and sat carefully down, cradling her to him. She didn't even look up as she continued to weep quietly, a steady trail of dampness seeping into his shirt.
He murmured gently to her as he ensured her behind hung off his knee. Pressing a kiss onto her damp forehead, he softly brushed away the falling tears with a surprisingly gentle thumb. They sat like that for the longest time, Cloda expelling every single regret and morsel of guilt that resided in her body. He rubbed her back soothingly, holding her tight and in that moment, the world they were in was their own, completely and utterly. There was nothing and no one else, only him and her. She snuffled into his broad, warm chest and felt utterly calm as her tears began to dry and fade. His arms were safe and warm around her and she felt utterly light and free. When she finally spoke, a solid ten to fifteen minutes later, he was carding a loving hand through her hair. Her tear stained face was as beautiful as her happiest moments as he gazed up at him.
"I'm sorry."
He shook his head and pressed his lips against hers, her taste being salty but as irresistible as ever. "For what?" he breathed. She frowned up at him. "For not-" His soft thumb covered her entire rosebud mouth as he twinkled down at her. "That's in the past, remember Pup? The minute it's over, it's over. It's done. You're forgiven and it's forgotten and for what it's worth…you made me proud as all hell today. You're…" he blushed, and her heart skipped a beat. He dropped a kiss on her hair and shrugged sheepishly, the transition back to Gibbs being breathtaking in its ease and its comfort. "I'm just glad… I found you, is all."
She stared up at him for a moment, red rimmed but dry eyed.
The sudden kiss took him off guard, but he leant down and leaned into it with a gentle passion.
"I'm glad I found you, too."
He grinned his crooked grin and cocked his head. "I am pretty special, aren't I?" Rolling her eyes, she slapped him across the chest and chuckled as he pulled her into a soft embrace. A sudden shade of blue caught her eye, and she reached out and plucked her confiscated panties from his pocket. A rueful smile spread across her face as he grinned down at her. "Can I have these back now? I'm sure they'd look darling on you, but I don't want you to stretch them."
He shook his head in amused disbelief tempered with blissful relief.
"Doesn't take you long to bounce back to your cheeky little self, huh?"
She smiled that smile that made him feel twenty years younger and shook her head, auburn locks spilling onto her shoulders. "Isn't that what you love about me?" He sighed an amused sigh as he nodded in defeat. "One of the many things." She felt that ridiculous warm fuzziness encase her at his words and snuggled into his arms once more, wincing at the relentless fire that raged in her behind. "How the hell am I gonna sit tomorrow? I have consultation hours and those chairs are hard."
He grinned as he kissed her nose and shrugged.
"Painfully and slowly, I should imagine. Sounds like a perfect reminder to me."
She glowered.
"You're a mean old fart, Agent Gibbs."
He raised a brow and tilted his head.
"Really, Dr O'Brien, really? Just when I was about to go and get the lotion and help you out a bit?" He clucked and shook his head. "No lotion for you then, if you think I'm that mean. It's gone, confiscated, caput." He suddenly placed her gently on the couch with an ease that only he seemed to manage and darted across to the chair he had just vacated. Plucking the miracle lotion that provided unbridled and unrivalled relief for a sore and chastised behind, he waved it in the air with a devilish grin.
She spluttered and unfurled herself with a gasp and a wince as her ass made contact with the sofa.
Panties in hand, she advanced towards the chuckling Gibbs, her fiery hair giving her the look of a woman possessed. "I will hurt you," she growled, sounding like the cutest cub he had ever heard, "Come back here and put that on for me. Like a gentleman." He laughed freely, his eyes dancing as he backed away from the prowling predator. "Oh no, I'm a mean old fart, remember? Lovely language for such a distinguished lady, by the way. Nope, no lotion for you." He shot her a lopsided smirk. "Poor baby."
She halted in her advance, reaching back to thoroughly rub her equally thoroughly punished rear.
He was bigger and he was faster, and as she rubbed with a wince, she knew he was physically stronger. This was to be a battle of smarts if she were to win, a battle of brain over brawn. She smiled coyly at the self satisfied Gibbs, an angelic smirk crossing her refined features. "Oh ok," she crooned softly, "You're the boss, I guess."
He sensed danger.
Raw and imminent danger.
"So, no lotion for me," she continued as his eyes narrowed speculatively, "But you insist that we're equals right, that we're of the same importance and status in this relationship, correct?" He nodded slowly, amused and alarmed by her unfolding thought process. The crafty smirk that crossed her plump lips had him waiting for the bomb to drop.
"No lotion for me…" she tipped her head up at him, a foot of space between them, "No sex for you."
His face dropped like a stone.
Her face lit up like the sun.
Sighing, Gibbs bowed deeply, one hand across his stomach, with a proud smirk on his face.
"Can I interest madam in some lotion? It's the house special."
Little did either of them know that this would be their routine for many happy years to come.
…
A/N: Apologies if this was a little too long, I got a bit carried away. Do you guys want this one to continue? I think this could be a nice place to leave them, but I could go on. If I do, I was thinking about doing a chapter where Abby resists Cloda as being a part of Gibbs' life and seeing how he resolves that. Thoughts? Or is there anything you guys want to see? This fic is fun to write so I'm easy going in terms of the direction it takes if I carry it on. Regardless, hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading!
EDIT: Decided to actually leave this one here. Thanks for reading guys!
_Inks
…