Saturday afternoon: He hadn’t expected her to be back when he got home, although it warms his heart to see her car out front when he returns from the hardware store. Yet there’s no sign of her downstairs and, with his customary speed and stealth, he scales the stairs to the bedroom to see if she is there. The breathy moan that he hears freezes him before he charges into the bedroom and instead he silently materialises in the doorway.
Abby is lying on the bed with her skirt up, and her knickers off, pleasuring herself. The sight turns him on and angers him in equal measure. She is lying on their bed -
and just when did his bed become their bed? - blatantly masturbating, where he could - and just did - walk in on her. At least he has the decency to take care of himself in the shower where she isn’t going to interrupt him; besides, she’s been at her apartment all morning, why couldn’t she have done this in her own home where he wouldn’t find her?
Where she couldn’t tempt him.
He wants to be the one making her moan and sigh like that. He wants her touch on the heated flesh that is now straining against the fly of his jeans.
He should turn around and go sand his boat for the next few hours - to relieve his frustration - after a quick jack off in the basement. He should ignore what he’s just seen and not think about it ever again, but with two hot heads working as one - rather than let sleeping dogs lie - he walks into the bedroom with an angry roar of her name,
“Abby!”
Surprised by him and shocked at being caught, like a child in her father’s house, Abby goes from reclining on the bed to upright and facing off with him in what seems like a single leap. She’s angry, too; she hadn’t expected or intended him to find her like this, assuming that she’d be done before he got back, or at the very least, hear him return home - forgetting that he’s always been a master of stealth. After a busy morning getting things done at her apartment, a little personal pleasure had been a spur of the moment idea on finding herself alone back in his house. What’s a girl to do when the man she is sleeping with refuses to do more than sleep...? It’s not as if he couldn’t or didn’t want to, physically - snuggling as closely as they have been over recent months they are both well aware that his body responds enthusiastically to her presence - it is one thing he can’t hide from her - so he’s obviously been taking care of himself in private, and Abby is angry that he seems upset at her for responding to her own needs. She shouts her defence at him in irate words.
This is several levels of fucked up: they’re having a lover’s tiff over sex when they aren’t even lovers. He’s done his best to protect her from... himself - and that’s not a revelation he wants to deal with either.
Abby is standing there, green eyes blazing and shouting at him but he’s not even aware of what she’s saying. He brings a hand up toward her head, dimly aware that she flinches from him - and that’s not right either - but she’s got no idea what is coming next and nor has he... until he cups the back of her neck with his left hand and gently draws her to him, silencing her tirade very effectively by lowering his head and pressing his lips to hers. For half a second she struggles against him before both of them realise what he has done and he can see her eyes grow wide with surprise.
This. This is what they were fighting over: the fact that he wouldn’t let them go here when really he knew damn well that it was what they both so desperately wanted.
They should pull apart, stop this madness, but he feels Abby melt into him, accepting his tongue as he desperately seeks entrance to her mouth. His anger vanishes, her anger vanishes, unbridled passion filling the void. He wraps his other arm around her body and for once it is he giving the bone crushing hug as he can’t get close enough to her. He feels hot and cold; his skin is too tight. Everything is wrong except where they are joined, tongues duelling, as Abby puts as much into the kiss as he does.
Somehow they gravitate toward the bed, their kiss jolted apart as they keel over onto the mattress and his lips find her neck instead. Instinct is finally taking over - all those nights spent skin to skin in a chaste embrace and now there are far too many clothes between them.
With fewer buttons in her way, Abby has easily burrowed under several layers of T-shirt to find the smooth warm flesh of his flank, caressed her way across his stomach and followed the fur trail south where she is working his belt buckle, all the while her head thrown back, her throat bared to his biting, sucking kisses.
His own clumsy fingers make little progress with her slightly more delicate clothing. He feels his belt buckle releasing and then Abby has her prize, cool fingers stroking him and doing anything but cool his ardour.
Somehow she’s achieved what he couldn’t and shed her top, leaving him to dispose of her bra which he does manage easily - and without ripping it off her - before feasting on the closest nipple. His warm hands are large enough to accommodate a butt cheek in each palm, and due to her earlier activity there is no underwear between her and his hands.
Flat on his back, a slight lift of his hips and he’s free enough of his pants and underwear for Abby’s purposes, even if he is still largely imprisoned by the denim. He’s not used to being underneath - he’s always been a giver as well as a taker, but usually from above and in control - now Abby has the upper hand, literally, and positions herself above him, lining up perfectly to sink slowly and delightfully all the way onto his hips in one smooth movement.
The bed is low enough that he still has his feet flat on the floor which gives him leverage to meet Abby’s movements; thrusting up into her while she rides him. It’s all over so fast that he should feel embarrassed, but Abby has reached her climax too and happily collapses against him, kissing and nibbling at his neck. After all, the foreplay for this encounter has been drawn out for months, if not years.
As the adrenalin of the fight drains away and the post-orgasmic hormones take effect they both doze lightly for a while cuddled together. Miraculously he’s stayed hard enough that Abby remains impaled on him - as he discovers when he bucks his hips slightly to get her to move - and the sensation, unlike anything he’s experienced recently, takes his breath away. Realising that they are still joined a slow smile creeps across Abby’s face and she pushes herself up a bit, hands resting on his shoulders. Gibbs, too, is smiling now, a brilliant, joyous smile that Abby has put on his face and one that she would love to see more of.
She leans in for another passionate kiss, wiggling her hips for friction. Gibbs cups the back of her head, holding her in place for the kiss as they devour each other, whilst his other hand roams over whatever naked flesh he can find and then delving between them for the bundle of nerves that gives Abby such pleasure. He tries to turn them over so that he is on top, but his leverage is minimal while his legs are still bound together just above the knee with the constricting denim of his jeans.
Their first time was so quick - too quick - that Gibbs had little choice but to cede control to Abby, now he wants control back and is unable to achieve it easily so growls in frustration. Abby giggles at the growl - and the reason for it - which she can feel by his ineffectual movements. This is more how it should be, mutual pleasure and laughter, not angry sex.
She rolls off of him, carefully allowing him to slip from her body as she does so, and they pause long enough to shed the remaining clothes that they are still wearing; unfairly Gibbs is still mostly clothed - something else that is all wrong about their first time - but too late now.
Round two is altogether slower and more sensual. Gibbs learned young to be a considerate lover - that there is pleasure to be had in giving pleasure to your partner - and Abby is Abby with an instinct for such things. The touches and caresses that they have shared in recent months take on a whole new meaning for them now that they are actively seeking out the erogenous zones of the other rather than deliberately avoiding them.
It is a heady feeling for Gibbs that he can make Abby shiver and mewl merely by running his hand over her bare flesh the way he runs it over recently sanded wood, the silky softness might be the same, but no boat ever responded to his touch the way she does, with twitching muscles and throaty giggles. Abby loves being stroked by him, anywhere he wants to touch her. That rush of power is all the stronger because he knows her so well out of bed. She’s prepared to give him most of the control, but she does make him work for it.
Certainly she’s not prepared to lie back and put up with it, while he does all the work, which has been the preferred technique of more than one of the pretty redheads he’s had liaisons with in recent years, this is mutual lovemaking, mutual pleasure and discovery, which takes him back to his days as a newly married man with Shannon.
For a moment he falters, the revelation hitting him like a bucket of iced water and bringing him back down to earth for the first time since he stood in the bedroom doorway some hours earlier. This is the other reason why he shied away so hard from taking this final step with Abby.
He swallows around the lump in his throat, but Abby senses the change immediately, running her hand soothingly up and down his back as they lie face to face and stroking his now slightly stubbly chin with the hand that is mostly trapped under her. For once she is the one with the intuition.
“Shannon would be happy for you, Gibbs. I like to think she’d be happy for us.”
He feels a rush of love for this woman, the only woman who has ever understood that at times he is in bed with two women, one real and one a ghost, not that he’s ever actually told any of his past women about the lost love who still haunts him, but Abby knowing and understanding is another part of what makes things so different now.
It’s Abby who finally decides that he’s had enough recovery time and ups the pace a notch, she starts worrying at his nipple with her teeth, enough to hurt him a little, but pleasurable pain. When he first met her he wondered if there was more to the collars she wears than just a fashion statement and the thought occurs to him again as she works her way around his body: lightly scratching, nipping and grazing her teeth over sensitive skin.
His attempt to take control back yet again, by rolling on top of her, is met once more by her wriggling out from under him. This time he allows her to arrange him to her liking: sat up and mostly propped against the headboard where she can sit in his lap, leaving them both with their arms free to touch and cuddle and continue kissing passionately. Actually that is fine by him as he can’t get enough of her. This might be more effort than the missionary position but it is more rewarding too.
When they are finally spent and reluctantly pull apart, Gibbs is ready to sleep for the night, but as it’s only early evening and his stomach rumbles loudly it’s time to have something to eat.
They dress, padding down to the kitchen in bare feet. Abby has been a good influence on him: there are portions of lasagne - stuffed with plenty of veggies as well as the beef - in the refrigerator waiting to be micro-waved. Fast food in the Gibbs’ household is no longer takeaway, and while they are waiting for the food to heat up he looks her over in the harsh light of the kitchen.
Now would not be a good time for any of their friends to pay them a visit. Abby’s neck and shoulders are peppered with small love bites and he is almost shocked to see what he has done to her. She realises what he is looking at and pulls him over to the mirror to look at his own reflection, lifting his T-shirt and giggling as his eyes widen at just how many bruises he is now sporting on his neck and chest as well.
Abby throws her arms round his waist and cuddles up to him: “Guess we got a little carried away, but in a good way... I haven’t hurt you, have I? You haven’t hurt me. A little pain is good, really good.”
This woman will be the death of him, but in the meantime she is offering a whole new life for him if he will just let himself accept her fully into that life.
End - and yes I really mean it this time!
Author's Chapter Notes:
It's Gibbs' comfort that Abby needs, but what about the man himself? Post-ep tag to 10x02 'Recovery'.
Chapter End Notes:
The first chapter of this was going to be a standalone and the rest was originally planned as a seperate sequel because I wasn't sure if it was going to be too explicit for FFnet (and hence wouldn't post the sequel there). I don't think this chapter turned out anywhere near as explicit as I intended, it is much more descriptive, but I hope anyone who reads it likes it as much as I like how it ended up.
To avoid misunderstandings, if you do not see/like Gibbs and Abby as a sexually-involved couple hit the back button now, you really won't like what comes next!
To avoid misunderstandings, if you do not see/like Gibbs and Abby as a sexually-involved couple hit the back button now, you really won't like what comes next!