A/N: Considering it has been...eleven years since I posted a Jibbs fic, I cannot believe I'm back here- but I'm rewatching (I know, a cry for help), and I finally got to Under Covers, aka one of my favorite episodes ever, and I couldn't help myself. Just a smutty little thing I couldn't get out of my head.
He hears the steps descending his stairs as he's sanding one of the ribs of the boat.
The click of heels is familiar; he's surprised she's here, given the lateness of the hour, but it's a pleasant kind of surprise. It had been a rough few days: worried for Tony and Ziva, worried for Jen's safety, watching her work herself into the ground- unable to truly express how badly he wanted to be able to take care of her. But that had never really been his role, never been his responsibility, and it tears at him like an old wound.
Gibbs pokes his head up, watching her descend the stairs. Jenny's still in the dress from the Marine Corp Birthday Ball, though her hair is up in a messy bun now, showcasing her long, elegant neck. She's got a bottle in her hands- it's whiskey, expensive, and he's always liked her taste.
"You didn't think I forgot, did you?" she asks, and there's soft, gentle teasing there. It's not quite midnight yet, and Gibbs allows a half-smile to curl his lips as he sets the sander off to the side, dusting his hands.
"Think there's a clean coffee cup somewhere over there," he motions towards the workbench, and Jenny clicks her way over, eventually stepping out of her heels, losing about three inches of height and reminding him how god damn small she is once she's out of the stupid things.
She locates two NIS mugs, blowing sawdust out of the one she'd dug out of the back, and pours them healthy fingers of whiskey; she brings them over to where Gibbs is resting against the boat rib, and hands him the dirtier mug, making him grin. Looking up at him from under her lashes, dark green eyes glint in amusement, and she clinks their mugs together lightly.
"Happy Birthday, Jethro," she murmurs, and he nods before he takes a glug of the whiskey, enjoying the burn as he watches Jen swallow her own whiskey without a wince.
"Why're you here, Jen?" he asks quietly, studying her face- she looks back without pause, and the sequins of her dress reflect in the low light of the basement.
"I couldn't give you alcohol at NCIS headquarters," she answers, but he can tell that isn't it; knows there's more under the surface.
"Nah," Gibbs says, and Jenny's face tightens as she goes back to the bottle, pouring more liquor in her cup. "You forget, Jen- I know how to read you."
She looks up at him, a curl of crimson hair falling from her bun down her cheek, and she looks like the Jenny he'd fallen for in Paris. Like the Jenny he'd somehow let slip through his fingers.
"This was a tough case," she finally says softly, and Gibbs listens with interest. "You weren't…entirely awful, at the politics part. It made my job easier."
"I'm known for being helpful on occasion," Gibbs replies, and Jenny shoots him a look, amusement coloring her expression despite herself.
"Perhaps…perhaps I just miss you, Jethro," Jenny finally murmurs, a stain of vulnerability in her voice, and Gibbs knows there's only one response he can give her.
He crosses the basement, setting his empty cup down on the workbench and cupping Jenny's chin in his palm before he bent to kiss her firmly. She melted into him without hesitation, opening her mouth to his seeking tongue, and pressed her palms to his chest, fisting his old NIS shirt in her fingers. She tasted like whiskey and lipstick and something inherently Jenny- cherries and warmth.
Gibbs trailed his mouth down her neck, unable to resist the expanse of pale skin on display; Jenny's head tilted back, and she gripped him firmly.
"We're drunk," she whispered, and Gibbs nipped at her collarbone.
"We had a drink," he countered, and mouthed over the swells of her breasts. "You want this, Jen?"
"Yes," she answers without hesitation, and Gibbs is taking her mouth under his once more, nipping at her lips and looping an arm around her waist to haul her against him. "This dress is too expensive for you to fuck me in this basement."
Gibbs chuckles, but allows it; he pulls away from her, offering an outstretched hand. Jenny slips her fingers into his and lets him lead her up the stairs and down the hall to his bedroom. Once there, Jenny turns, and Gibbs slowly drags the zipper of the dress down, exposing more creamy skin until she can step out of it. She's braless, and her underwear is barely a scrap of fabric- when she turns, his eyes fall to her full, pert breasts, tipped with rosy, pink nipples.
"Strip, Jethro," Jenny's voice is soft and teasing, full of affection- Gibbs ends up nearly tripping over himself in his haste to get out of his jeans as he watches Jenny spread out in his sheets, making herself at home.
When he joins her on the bed, the feeling of her skin on his is like a dream, and he nearly pinches himself as a reminder that this was, in fact, real.
Their mouths meet as Jenny wraps a leg around Gibbs' hip, opening herself to him; he sinks a hand down between them, stroking through where she was already wet. The noise she makes into their kiss makes him harder than he already is, leaking against her inner thigh, and when her hips begin to rock into his touch, he knows he needs to get inside her.
Digging into his bedside drawer, he pulls out a condom- Jenny takes it from him and rolls it over his cock, giving a few extra strokes as she kisses the edge of his jaw up to his ear.
"I'm on top, remember?" is the only warning he gets before she's pinning him to the bed, a palm to his chest and her thighs straddling his hips. She grins down at him, a slash of white in the dark of his bedroom, and he vows that next time they do this he's turning the lights on. He can tell she's got more scars than when he last saw her naked, and he wants to trace each of them with his tongue.
Jenny takes him inside her, rolling her hips to take him fully, and Gibbs grits his teeth and the sensation of her, warm and wet even through the latex. She settles above him, getting used to him inside her again, for just a moment- then she sets a slow, deep pace, taking him inside her fully before lifting high until he was nearly withdrawn, then sinking back down. It's the best form of torture, and Gibbs lets her lead, hands on her hips and just enjoying the view as her breasts rose and fell with each thrust.
"Feel so good," Jenny gets out, a whine to her voice, as she digs her nails into Gibbs' chest. "Missed this."
She pants, and then leans down, kissing him messily. Her next words are panted against his mouth, desperate. "Missed you."
Gibbs growls, and twists them so Jenny is pinned beneath them, hair falling out of its bun and spread out beneath them like a fire. He slips out of her, spreading her thighs further apart, and then sinking back inside her.
"Meant to take my cock, sweetheart," Gibbs gets out, and Jenny swallows hard around the moan rising in her throat. "Cunt's so god damn tight around me, Jen."
Gibbs gets his hand between them and circles her clit until she began to tighten around him; Jenny came with a wail of his name, clenching hard around him, and Gibbs is powerless to do anything but spill into the condom, surrendering to her warmth.
Carefully extracting himself and the condom from her, Gibbs tosses it out before collapsing into the pillows, skin tacky with sweat as Jenny shudders beside him through the aftershocks. Pulling her into him, he found her mouth in another kiss, licking into her mouth as she panted.
"Got a shirt a girl can sleep in?" she asks sleepily, eyes bleary with pleasure and exhaustion. Gibbs smirks, and gets up- Jenny goes to the bathroom, and when she returns, slips into the old, worn NCIS shirt Gibbs had laid out for her while he'd pulled on a pair of boxers. They sink under the covers together, Jenny slipping under Gibbs' arm as he sets an alarm.
The next morning, the bed is empty when Jenny wakes; she yawns, and trudges downstairs in just the NCIS shirt, following the smell of coffee. Gibbs, still in just his boxers, has a mug waiting for her, and she accepts it with a sleepy smile and gentle kiss on the mouth.
"Could get used to this," Jenny murmurs, and Gibbs kisses her again, softly.
"Gonna need more shirts," is all he says, and Jenny laughs, head tipping backwards as her hair caught the early morning light, sparkling like wildfire against the linoleum.