From Paris, With Love by DD Agent
I do not own NCIS or any of its characters, or its settings - all belongs to the lovely folks at CBS.
Thank you for those who have put this story on alert or favourited it, I'm so glad you like where I'm going with it! Big thank you and strawberry pie to NCIS She-Demon, Prettycrazy, BritMonkey, left my heart in Paris and Paris-eternellement. Thank you all so much!
I decided to break up the posting a little, thought it would be easier for people to read and enjoy the story if it was broken up like this. So this is part three, part four will be up tomorrow and so on. Hope you enjoy!
Intermission
Paris, 1999
"You're not going out in that dress."
Jenny came into their bedroom in a devastating red dress, the slit in the side showing off her legs and the strapless top accentuating her cleavage. Although Jethro was very much enjoying the view of his lover, he didn't want her to go out to this play and be on display the entire night. He hated having to watch other men and be on guard when they were off duty.
His lover pouted a little. "Jethro, it'll be fine. It's just a dress."
"Maybe on the hanger."
Jenny giggled and went over to the bed where Jethro was reading one of his Russian books. It was a language she didn't speak, having found the Romance languages easy to learn from a young age rather than the Cyrillic. He put the book down and turned to his lover. Their mission in Paris was technically over, and in a week they would be heading back to Washington DC for a debrief and to start their future together.
"Promise you won't fall asleep in this."
"It's in French, isn't it?"
Jethro groaned into his book and Jenny hit him with a pillow. He retaliated by moving on top of her and pinning her wrists to the bed. When she was in the mood, she would happily let him hold her in place for hours. Jethro enjoyed it as well, he loved being able to cling onto the hurricane that was Jenny Shepard.
"Why don't we go to any Russian plays?" Jethro asked, moving his mouth over his lover's skin. He nipped at her collar bone, his tongue trailing up and down her jaw. A quick look up revealed that Jenny had closed her eyes, enjoying the sensations. "I know you don't speak it, but I don't speak French."
Jenny sighed softly as Jethro started to push down the red silk of Jenny's dress to see what lingerie she had chosen in her two hour ritual of getting ready. He approved of the black. "We're in Paris, Jethro."
"You telling me there are no Russians in Paris?"
He moved the fabric down her stomach, his mouth moving over her skin. Jenny sighed softly as the cold air hit the moisture he had left over the plains of her stomach. He let go of Jenny's hands to tug the fabric over her hips so to leave her completely bare to him. But Jenny's hands stopped him before he reached his destination.
"We have to get ready for the play, Jethro."
"Promise we'll see a Russian play when we're in DC?"
He was so consumed with trying to get underneath Jenny's underwear that he missed the shadow crossing over her face. "I promise."