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Leather and Lace

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Heather reclined in her chair, the heels of her leather boots propped leisurely up on her desk, smiling at the silver haired man sitting across from her. "Sorry you didn't find what you're looking for, Jethro, but I didn't think you would find it here."

Gibbs shrugged. "Neither did I, but we had to check out all the clubs. DiNozzo and Ziva would have stuck out like sore thumbs, and McGee would've been hopeless at a place like this."

Heather cocked her head at him. "Everyone who comes through the door here comes through me and with excellent references. Your people wouldn't have gotten past the doorman, and anyone on the floor would know that the instant they saw them." She glanced through the one-way glass down at the people mingling leisurely below. "You could be a regular...You used to be."

"It's been a long time, Heather."

"I'm sure you haven't forgotten anything." She smiled, running her fingers along the riding crop resting on her desk, her red hair falling over her shoulder.

Gibbs shrugged "Probably not."

"You're here. Stay a while. Socialize. Play if you like." She took in his burgundy silk shirt, leather pants, and boots, looking him up and down. "You're well aware you'll have no difficulty finding someone to play with. Or several someones if you like. I'm sure you remember the rules." She stood and walked around the desk, the ease of her movement surprising given the steel boned corset she wore.

He took Heather's arm as they walked toward the door. "I'm sure they haven't changed. Downstairs is for socializing only, second floor is for public play or watching, private rooms on the third floor, and of course, the usual safe, sane, and consensual."

She ran the tip of her crop under his chin. "You were always such a quick study. We could have so much fun together."

Her eyes widened as his hand closed tightly around her wrist. "But we both like to be on the same end of the crop."

She shrugged as he released her hand. "Pity. Shall we?" She guided him down the gilded hall and lush carpets to the elevator.

As they waited for the car, she slipped a ribbon off her wrist and pressed it into his hand. He looked down and found a golden key hanging from it. "In case someone strikes your fancy. My private room at the end of the hall on the third floor. I won't be needing it this evening. I believe Allison was wanting help with some homework."

"I appreciate the offer, but I'll probably just enjoy your hospitality on the first floor and make it an early evening." They stepped into the elevator car for the quick trip downstairs.

Heather took the key from his hand and slipped it deep into the front pocket of his pants. "Hang on to it anyway in case you change your mind."

He turned, pinning her between his body and the wall of the elevator, her hand still inside his pocket, his breath hot against her ear. "Don't start with me, Heather. You may find yourself chained to my bed." He sunk his teeth sharply into her earlobe.

She gasped. "Keep that up and I may let you." She shifted her hip and he found himself off balance, pressed against the other wall, her hands like iron around his wrists, whispering "and then you'll find yourself chained to mine while I purple your ass with my crop for your presumption."

"But you'd have enjoyed yourself first." Gibbs grinned.

Heather released his hands and stepped back, laughing. "Probably. So would you."

"Probably."

The elevator doors slid open to the ground floor of the club. It didn't have a name. It didn't need one. It was an invitation only club for individuals with sexual desires that ran to the darker side of normal, very quiet, discreet, unknown to anyone but its members and their guests, and, were it not for the dead congressman, would have remained one hundred percent under the radar. Finding no connection between this club and the congressman's death, Gibbs would ensure it remained so as a favor to Heather, a longtime friend he'd been introduced to shortly after Shannon first brought him into the lifestyle.

Heather walked him up to the bar and beckoned the bartender with a crook of her finger. "Jamie, this is Lee." She motioned to Gibbs, using the name he preferred for locations such as these. "See that he's well taken care of this evening. On the house."

The bartender nodded "Yes, Lady Heather. What'll it be, Sir?"

"Bourbon."

Heather shook her head. "Still drinking that swill, I see." Gibbs shrugged and looked around the club, taking in the people milling around. It was spacious, classically decorated, and while there were probably over a hundred people, didn't feel crowded.

"Look around, mingle, play if you wish... Everyone here has been thoroughly background checked and their discretion is assured. If you wish an introduction, simply let Jamie or myself know, and we will arrange it." Gibbs let his eyes drift from person to person, until they landed on one extraordinary form at the other end of the bar. His breath caught in his throat and Heather smiled. "Oh, I see... Always had excellent taste, didn't you. I'm not sure if you'll get far with that one, though. She's lovely. Comes to socialize almost every week, but I've never seen anyone strike her fancy."

Gibbs couldn't take his eyes off her. Her dark hair was piled elegantly on her head in soft curls, secured with a jeweled clip, her throat bare, her waist an hourglass silhouetted by a deep red leather corset, her flowing gauzy black skirt ended just above her knee, and her patent leather heels tied with ribbons around her ankles. Though her ensemble left her more covered than most prom dresses, to Gibbs she was sex personified. And as she turned as the bartender handed her a glass of red wine, he saw beneath her ear a spiderweb tattoo.

Heather cocked an eyebrow at him as he choked on his bourbon. "Problem?"

"I've got to get out of here."

"No. You've got to go talk to that beautiful lady who just completely short circuited your brain." She tugged at his hand. "I haven't seen that look on your face in a very, very long time."

"Heather, you don't understand. She's-"

She silenced him with her finger on his lips. "I know exactly who she is. I am wondering, though, if you have forgotten who you are. Now, are you going to slip out the back door and not be able to meet her eyes on Monday morning, or are you going to go ask the lovely one for a dance?"

He took a deep breath, his shoulders squared, and he set his drink firmly on the counter. Heather smiled and ran a hand down his arm. "Now there is the man who threatened to chain me to a bed, and made me consider it...if only for a moment." She squeezed his hand. "Have a pleasant evening, and don't stay away so long next time."

She turned and walked back to the elevator, leaving Gibbs behind to take one more gulp of liquid courage.

Finishing his drink, he stepped up behind her, catching that unique scent of sweet, spice, and gunpowder that was uniquely her. Leaning into her ear, he softly requested "May I have this dance?"

She jumped, her wine glass slipping from her hand as she turned. He caught it deftly between his fingers and placed it back in her hand without spilling a drop, closing her fingers around it as his blue eyes met Abigail Sciuto's green ones. "What are you doing here?"

"Asking you for a dance. You gonna answer me?"

Her eyes widened. "Oh! Um, yeah, okay." She set her glass back on the counter, knowing Jamie would keep it for her until she returned for it.

He took her hand to lead her over to the dance floor. "You look amazing tonight." She blushed and looked away. He softly ran a finger under her ear and along her jaw, tipping her chin up to look at him. "Don't look away from me. You deserve the compliment. Say thank you."

"Thank you." She kissed his cheek, her hand on his shoulder, feeling the silk fabric of his shirt. "I like your shirt!" She ran her hand over his shoulder and down his chest. "Feels nice." She took in the rest of what he was wearing. "Wow! Where'd you get this stuff?"

He wrapped his arm around her waist and slowly led her around the dance floor. "My closet."

"Seriously? That's awesome! So, what are you doing here, really?"

"Dancing with you." Seeing her annoyed expression, he added "We had to check out the places in the area because of the congressman case. Heather and I go way back, and since someone had to come here, I figured she'd rather it be me."

He felt the buttery soft leather of her corset under his hand as she asked "Way back?"

"About twenty years way back. It's been a while, but I still know my way around Heather's place."

"Wow." Abby ran her hand over his hip and across the leather covering his thigh. "Nice pants."

Not sure if he wanted her to know that her touch had left a streak of fire in its wake, he caught her hand and wrapped both arms around her waist. She leaned into his shoulder and she rested her head on his chest. "Mmm, Gibbs, this is nice."

He nodded as the music ended "Another dance, sit down, or would you like to tell me to scram so you can get on with your plans for the evening?"

"I would never tell you to scram!" She looked hurt. "And I didn't have any plans beyond a glass of wine and a dance or two."

"So, if you don't want me to scram, dance or sit?"

"Sit. I still want my wine."

They walked to a curtained off booth in the corner and sat down, Jamie quietly appearing with Abby's wine and another bourbon for Gibbs, letting the sheer black curtain fall behind him as he stepped away from the table. "How'd you find this place, Abs?"

"A friend, just a friend, brought me a while ago, after the whole McGee thing." Seeing Gibbs' face, she elaborated. "He's a wonderful guy and all, but just too...boring? You know what I mean? Someone can be totally into you, but try to bring in something as mild as spanking and they completely flip out."

Gibbs chuckled and shook his head. "Abs, I've got three divorces that say I know exactly what you mean. Vanilla can be nice, but-"

"Every so often you need some spice." Abby grinned.

Gibbs raised his glass in agreement, and Abby clinked it softly with her wine glass, smiling as she sipped. He couldn't help but notice how her skin almost shimmered in the light from the candle on the table. She was exquisite. McGee was a moron. He chuckled, imagining the scene. "You actually asked McGee to spank you?"

"Well, not so much asked, as suggested in a totally abstract way that it might maybe possibly be fun to try at some point." She looked down and shook her head, recalling the conversation. "He flipped. Went on about how he could never hit a woman, how that was abuse and that nobody could possibly really like that, and that I was sick for even suggesting it."

Gibbs sighed. "He's an idiot, Abs." He ran a finger lightly down her spiderweb, from her ear down and across her shoulder, watching her shiver. "It's hardly abuse when you're asking for it, wanting it, and maybe even..." his hand traveled up to her cheek and his thumb caressed her lips "begging for it?"

Her tongue darted out and licked the tip of his thumb, gently nibbling as he closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation. He let the back of his hand trail down her cheek to caress her shoulder, arm, and settling at her waist, tugging her close. His cheek against hers, he whispered "Walk out of here right now, and on Monday, none of this ever happened, or stay and I won't be able to stop myself from kissing you."

He felt her lips against his ear as she replied "I'm not going anywhere."

In an instant, his lips were on hers in a searing, heated kiss, his hand snaking up through her hair, pulling her to him as her hands ran down his chest, caressing through the silk. He couldn't get enough of her, touching, tasting, exploring. His hand found the soft skin at the hem of her skirt and brushed it out of the way, breaking the kiss only long enough to ask "This okay?" just to have her smile and remind him that she'd tell him if it wasn't, resting her hand on top of his and guiding it another few inches up her thigh to show him just how okay it was.

He kissed her again, gently this time, softly, teasing, while his hand explored the smooth skin of her leg. He slid his palm up the outside of her thigh until he came to a startling realization. "Abs?"

"Hmm?"

"You're not wearing underwear."

"I never wear underwear."

"You mean, when you're wearing those short little skirts in the lab...?"

"Nope."

"Oh God." He slid his hand around to cup her ass and pull her to him so she could feel exactly what that statement had done to him. "You're going to kill me."

She squirmed against him. "You don't feel dead to me."

He smacked her ass lightly. "Naughty girl."

"Hey!"

"I said if I ever smacked you it wouldn't be on the head." He caressed her ass lightly before settling her back into the bench, trailing his fingers over the tops of her thighs.

Her breathing quickened and her eyes flew open, meeting his gaze. "You're teasing me, Gibbs."

He rained kisses down her neck as his fingertips danced over her thighs. "No, I'm not. I'd only be teasing you if I wasn't going to give you what you wanted." and with that, his finger plunged into her heat, his lips covering hers to absorb her squeal of surprise and pleasure.

Her head fell back against the back of the booth as she adjusted to allow him access, her eyes glazing over with pleasure. "Oh God, Gibbs! More?"

"I don't know, Abs. You were pretty naughty. No underwear, torturing me with your beautiful body..." He punctuated each sentence with a thrust of his finger, making her gasp, twisting his finger inside her and watching her squirm.

He slowly withdrew from her and her eyes met his, her lip pouting in disappointment. "Gibbs..."

"A very bad girl, don't you think? Beautiful, tempting, no underwear..." He raised his hand above the table, finger glistening with her moisture. "Dripping wet and letting me finger fuck you under the table." He slipped his finger into his mouth and she watched, eyes wide, as he cleaned his hand of her. Watching her here in the candlelight, he remembered the key in his pocket. "Would you like to come upstairs to play for a little while?" He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. "Something low key that you've already told me you like?" They hadn't had time to discuss any kind of limits, and he had no idea how experienced a player she was, but this moment was so perfect that he couldn't let it slip by without offering her something.

He saw fear and desire warring on her face and he tipped her chin up with his finger. "You know I'd never do anything you weren't one hundred percent okay with, and you say the word and everything stops." His lips brushed against her ear. "I'd never hurt you, Abby... in any way you didn't want me to." His teeth nipped at the smooth skin of her shoulder, hard enough to sting.

Abby felt the fear melt away. This was Gibbs. She trusted him with her life. She could certainly trust him with her body. "Yes."

He pulled back, raising an eyebrow, waiting.

She realized what he was waiting for. "Yes, Sir?"

He smiled and stood, taking her hand. "Stoplights?" He asked, referring to the standard set of safewords.

She nodded. "Red for stop, yellow for slow down." She shrugged. "Somehow I don't think I'll need them."

He met her eyes, letting her know he was completely serious. "They're there if you need them. Use them if you need them. I know we've known each other a long time, but never quite like this. Promise me you'll let me know if something is too much for you."

She nodded. "I promise."

He pulled her to him and kissed her deeply, then led her past the elevator leading to Heather's office, and towards the one for the other floors. As they passed the bar, Jamie smirked. Heather had called it again. He wasn't surprised in the least.

At the end of the hall, he pulled the key out of his pocket at a door marked only with the number 42. He smirked. Heather would number her private room after the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe and everything. He took in the surroundings, noting that the room looked more like a the sitting room of some fancy house than a BDSM playground. It was a paradise of sensation. A fire burned in a fireplace on the far wall, with leather chairs and ottomans facing the fire, large, soft pillows on the floor by the fireplace, books lined wooden bookshelves around the room, and dark mahogany cupboards were below the shelves. To a trained observer, there were a few things that indicated the intention of its use, though. Candles burned on the mantle, and Gibbs had no doubt that these candles were the low melting temperature paraffin or soy candles. Knowing what he'd seen of Heather's private suite of rooms when he and Shannon had spent time with her in Las Vegas, he was certain that the cupboards held an endless array of Heather's personal collection of floggers, crops, ropes, restraints, clamps, and cuffs, and that the two other doors probably led to a bedroom and a fully equipped playroom, complete with many ways to restrain, torment, and pleasure someone.

He saw Abby taking a look around, and he could tell by her expression that this was not what she had expected. "I've never been up here before. Are all the rooms like this?"

He ran a finger down the back of her neck. "No, but do you really want to talk about that now?" She shivered and shook her head, and the next moment found herself with her back against the door, arms pinned over her head, his body hard against hers. She tried to look away, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze, but his hand under her chin kept her where he wanted her. "Last chance. If you want to go, say the word and we pretend this never happened." The back of his hand brushed gently against her cheek. "But stay, and for this evening," His hand trailed down around her throat, not tightening at all, just resting loosely around her neck like a collar. "you're mine."

"I already told you, Sir," Her eyes flashed, torn between annoyance and amusement. "I'm not going anywhere."

He kissed her then, his lips demanding she open for him, and she offered no resistance, melting under his touch. His hand slid down, lightly brushing over her breast to settle on her hip, his other hand still pinning her wrists.

Finally, he took a step back, lowering her wrists, but still keeping them tight in his grasp, leading her over to stand in front of the fireplace. He stood behind her, his hands pressing gently down on her shoulders. Following his unspoken direction, she sank down and gracefully knelt on the pillow in front of her. She shivered as she heard his voice in her ear. "Good girl. Wait here." His hands rested briefly on either side of her face, pointing her head firmly toward the fireplace, letting her know she wasn't to look around.

She gazed at the flames, trying not to let her curiosity get the better of her and look back. Finally, he appeared in front of her, blocking the light from the fire. "Stand up." He offered her a hand and helped her gently to her feet. "Close your eyes." She could hear him walking around her, could feel him watching her, and she tried not to fidget as she stood there waiting. Finally, she heard his voice in her ear. "You're beautiful."

Remembering the lesson from earlier, she replied "Thank you, Sir."

His hand brushed along her shoulder. "Beautiful, but you have been a very, very bad girl, haven't you?"

"Yes, Sir." She was almost shaking with anticipation and arousal as his hand trailed down her spine to the top of her corset.

"And what have you done?"

She thought hard, trying to remember the things he had listed earlier. "Not wearing underwear. Teasing you with my short skirts."

"And?"

She thought hard. What else could there be? "Thinking I could ever get what I needed from McGee."

She heard him chuckle. "Thank you for reminding me of that one." Uh oh. "And?"

"Letting you..." she stumbled over the words, blushing. "Finger fuck me under the table."

"Good girls wouldn't do that, would they?"

"No, Sir." She answered softly.

"And I would be neglecting my duty if I let you get away with it, wouldn't I?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Have you ever known me to neglect my duty?"

She shivered. "No, Sir."

"Then open your eyes and come here."

She turned to face him, and he could see her trembling as she walked toward him. He was certain she had a good idea what to expect given their earlier conversation, but he still saw her sharp breath when he motioned for her to lie down across his legs. She did so slowly, kneeling next to him and lowering herself gracefully across his lap.

He rested his arm across her back, supporting her, and allowed himself a moment to look at her. He lightly trailed his hand down her neck and along her spine, relishing her shiver. Reaching slightly, he pulled the soft rope he'd secured to the heavy chair nearby and placed it in her hands. "You let go, all this stops. Understand?" She nodded. He watched her hands as she gripped it tightly, knowing it not only provided her a bit of extra stability in her position and another way to stop the scene if she wanted to, but just a little bit of something extra to focus on if she wanted to be sure it continued. He smiled as he watched her knuckles turn white holding on and gently touched her hand. "Relax. We haven't even started yet."

"It's that whole 'yet' part that's got me worried." She muttered. He lightly smacked her ass for her sass. "Sorry."

He chuckled. "You'll be sorry, all right." He ran his hand up her leg and over her ass, pausing there a moment before he flipped her skirt above her waist, and found himself unable to stop himself from laughing out loud at what he found there. A tattoo of a lipstick print kiss was right in the middle of her left cheek.

She glanced up at him. "Like what you see?"

That comment earned a much harder smack, and she yelped in surprise as his hand connected. Admiring the red handprint left behind, he whispered "Your ass turns a lovely shade of red, beautiful." His fingers brushed against her thighs and he watched her squirm, searching for more contact. "You haven't earned that yet." His hand returned to her ass, alternating caresses with light swats, increasing in strength as he felt she could handle them. As he watched her squirm against him, watched her breathing to gauge the strength of the smacks, he could hardly believe this was happening, that she would allow this, allow him to do this.

She gasped as he gave her several harder smacks in a row, relaxing when she felt his hand gently soothing away the pain and heard his voice in her ear. "Good girl. Okay?" She nodded, and he swatted her again lightly. "Words, Abs."

"Yes, Sir." He rubbed her back gently while his other hand continued to caress her, gently massaging away some of the redness.

As his hand crept closer and closer to where she wanted it most, she started squirming in his lap, wanting more contact. "Abs." He warned.

"Sorry, Sir." She took a deep breath, her hands tightening around the rope, her struggle to hold still obviously difficult.

"What do you want, beautiful?" He asked, knowing full well what she wanted, but wanting the satisfaction of hearing her say it.

"Touch me?" She whispered.

He smirked, sliding his fingers over her ass. "I am touching you."

She bit her lip, a frustrated gasp escaping. "Please, I want your fingers inside me again. Please, Sir?"

He leaned over and whispered in her ear. "I like hearing you beg, beautiful." With that, he gave her what she wanted.

She was so on edge that it only took a few strokes of his fingers and some well placed thumb action on her clit before she exploded around his fingers, gasping and biting her lip to keep from screaming. He gave her a moment to catch her breath, touching her lips gently with his index finger, all the while caressing her back and thighs with his other hand. "Don't hold back, beautiful. I like watching you if I give you pleasure. I get to hear you too. Understood?" She nodded. "Did you forget already?" Seeing her blank look, he added "Words, Abs."

She looked down. "Sorry, Sir."

He smacked her ass, harder than when he'd started, knowing that she could tolerate more. She started pressing back to meet his hand. He chuckled. "Like that?"

"Yes, Sir." She replied breathlessly, turning her head to look at him, quite determined to not forget that lesson again.

"Good." He increased the speed and tempo of his smacks, enjoying her strangled sound of pain and pleasure, watching her continue to move towards him.

After a moment, he settled back to his pattern of light slaps and caresses. He took the time to watch her, to listen not just to her voice but to what her body was telling him, and noticed again just how stunning she was, her cross tattoo peeking over the top of her corset, her dark hair, and pale skin. His eyes skimmed over her ass, now a delightful shade of red that just about matched the lipstick kiss tattoo there, and down her legs to her ankles, her shoes still tied with those satin ribbons. He would love to take her foot in his lap and untie that shoe, watch as the ribbons fell away and he slipped the shoe off, gently massaging her foot. It wasn't that he had a foot fetish, more like he had an Abby fetish, and after all evening in those heels, her feet had to hurt. He just wanted to take care of it, that was all, but somehow going there seemed far more intimate than having her on his lap, skirt around her waist, slapping her ass until it was cherry red. He started to taper down the intensity of the spanking. "How you doing, Abs?"

"Mmm." She sighed.

"Abby!"

"Doing good, Gibbs." She sounded a little sleepy.

He was just lightly touching her now. "You sure?"

She chuckled. "Not spacing out on you...much. Just relaxing. Feels good."

He reached for her hands, still grasping the rope. "Let go."

She did, flexing her fingers. "I'd forgotten about that. Can I sit up?"

"Slowly." He helped her kneel back on the floor, gently rubbing her hands. He brought both her hands to his lips, kissing them lightly. "Thank you."

"You're kidding, right? Thank you!" She rested her head on his knee, running her hand up his leg in a soft caress, looking up at his sharp gasp. "Huh?" Comprehension dawned, and she ran his hand over his zipper.

He caught her around the wrist. "That wasn't part of the plan."

"Please?" He shook his head and she looked at him sternly. "Gibbs! You spent all evening taking care of me." She brushed his leg with her free hand. "Allow me to spend a few moments taking care of you? Please?" She lowered her head, but looked up to meet his eyes and Gibbs knew he was done for the moment they locked eyes and she smiled, the tip of her tongue darting out to delicately moisten her lips, leaving no doubt exactly what she had in mind.

Seeing the desire in her eyes, desire for him, and sincere desire to touch him just because she wanted to please him without asking anything in return was a rare experience for him. He had a beautiful woman kneeling between his legs, calling him 'Sir' and begging to take care of him. And that it was this beautiful woman, the one he tried very hard not to imagine in this exact situation...Yeah, he was so done for. He released her hand and motioned her to do what she willed.

And in what felt like half a second, her mouth was on him, and he had one moment of coherent thought to wonder where the heck she had learned to make a man feel like that, and another to decide he didn't care he was just damn glad she knew, and his hands tangled in her hair as the world shrank to nothing but her lips on his cock, and then exploded.

When he was able to see clearly again, Abby was still kneeling before him, resting her head on his thigh, looking very much like the cat that had just swallowed the...canary. "C'mere." He tugged her to him, pulling her into his lap. "Should've asked you before. How you feeling?"

She snuggled up against him, enjoying the feeling of his hand caressing her back. "Good. A little sore, nothing bad. Probably gone by tomorrow."

He held her close, enjoying the scent of her hair. She could stay here as long as she liked. He tightened his arms around her, not knowing when, or if, he would get to hold her again.

She uncurled from his arms, stretching upwards and standing slowly. "It's getting late.

"Did you drive?" He moved to stand beside her.

"No. I was going to take a cab."

"I can take you." He wanted to see her safely to her door.

She nodded, and they walked toward the door together. He stopped her as they reached the exit, his hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him. His finger touched her under her chin and her eyes met his. He brushed his lips across hers. "Thank you, beautiful."

She smiled and kissed his cheek. "No, thank you, Sir."

He locked the door behind them.

He left the room key with Jamie, and she collected her purse and cloak from coat check, along with his keys. He opened the car door for her, and she was asleep in the front seat a few moments later.

He watched her. She was so damn beautiful. The woman he tried not to think about that way but failed miserably. When he saw her at Heather's, he was so surprised, and she so surprised him that all his self control had gone completely out the window and he was totally unable to resist touching her. He was amazed she had allowed it. She wasn't quite young enough to be his daughter, but too young still. He was all wrong for her. She needed someone who could understand what a "major mass spec" did, what an "mmorpg" was, and how the stuff on her stereo in the lab was possibly music. All he could do was protect her, and, as much as he didn't want to admit it to himself, love her, but he'd been doing both from a distance for a long time now, and that shouldn't, couldn't change.

He had to tell her that. She might be a little mad, but she'd get over it, and things would go back to how they were. Right? They had to. He couldn't screw everything up by getting involved with her. Then she'd leave like everyone else, one way or another. And that was unthinkable.

He pulled into her driveway, realizing she had woken up as the car stopped, and bracing himself for the unpleasant conversation ahead.

She noticed the change in his demeanor. "Gibbs? What's wrong?"

"Abby, this can't happen again."

Her eyes widened in shock. "Gibbs, what? We had a wonderful night! What are you talking about?"

"And it never should have happened." He stared out the window.

"But why?" He could hear the hurt and confusion in her voice. "What did I do?"

"It's not what you did, Abby. You did everything right. Just... go on. I'll see you on Monday."

"But-"

"Go!" He snapped, not daring to turn to look for fear that the hurt in her eyes would make him change his mind.

With a wounded gasp, she fled into her apartment, the slam of the door shaking the windows.

When he got home, he headed down to the basement, sloshed some bourbon into his coffee cup, and downed it in one swallow. Refilling the cup, he picked up his sander and got to work, trying to lose the memory of the pain in her voice in the meditative monotony of his woodworking. Unable to deal with the silence of his own thoughts, he switched the radio on, hoping it and the bourbon could somehow drown the guilt in his mind. He knew it wasn't working when he heard:

"Is love so fragile

And the heart so hollow

Shatter with words..."

Even the radio was out to get him. He slammed his hand on the radio, silencing it, and downed the rest of the bourbon. It was going to be a long night.

Chapter Text

Gibbs awoke on Saturday morning on the floor of his basement with the headache from hell. The empty bottle of bourbon next to him probably provided the explanation for that. He sat up slowly, memories from the previous evening flooding back. Shit. He was fairly certain he'd made the biggest mistake of his life.

He needed to talk to her. However, calling her at- He glanced at his watch... 6:23 in the morning was a certain way to ensure she would never forgive him. Abby was many things. A morning person was not one of them.

He made his way upstairs, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. Stopping for a brief visit to the head, he then chugged the water and fell into bed, hoping the jackhammer in his skull would quiet itself to woodpecker level by the time he woke.

Later, when the sun had been streaming through the window for several hours, he rolled out of bed and reached for his phone. He dialed her number, his heart in his throat.

"Hello?"

"Abs?"

*click*

Shit. She'd hung up. He knew how to deal with an Abby who wouldn't shut up. He had no idea what to do with an Abby who wouldn't talk.

He stared at the dead phone in his hand for a moment, went downstairs for coffee, and retreated to the basement.


Hoping the weekend had calmed things down a bit, he entered her lab on Monday morning with a Caf-Pow peace offering and saw her seated at her desk, back to him. "Abs-"

She didn't turn to look at him, just held up her hand and pointed to the door. Though she didn't say a word, he got that message loud and clear. He was not welcome. Respecting her wishes, he set the Caf-Pow down inside the door and left.

For the rest of the week, he sent the team down to get information from her, always with a Caf-Pow, and always on his dime, of course. He got in early and stayed late, hoping to catch her on her way in or out, that she'd talk to him, or send him some signal that it was okay for him to talk to her, but she walked by his desk as though he wasn't there. Every night was spent in his basement with a bottle, mindlessly turning more of his boat into sawdust. He'd messed things up with women before, but never like this, never when it mattered this much, and he had no clue what to do about it.

He felt like he was walking on daggers, snapping at everyone and sending in Tony and Ziva when something was needed from Abby. He knew his team knew something was wrong. They were good investigators, and he wasn't exactly being subtle. He imagined Abby wasn't either. The floor of his basement was covered in far more sawdust than usual.

On Thursday, they had evidence but no suspect. "McGee! Go see if Abby has those fingerprint results yet." He held out the Caf-Pow for the agent to bring to Abby.

"No, boss."

Gibbs froze. "What did you just say, McGee?"

"I said no, boss." McGee looked at him evenly. "If you need something from Abby, go ask her."

Seeing red, Gibbs took a deep breath. He would deal with McGee in a moment. "DiNozzo!"

"No, boss." Tony stood at his desk and folded his arms. "We're done being your runners. Ask her yourself."

Ziva leaned against the rail of the staircase, looking at him, "Do not look at me. This has gone on long enough. You will have to speak with her eventually. It may as well be today."

Looking around the room, Gibbs growled "Is this some kind of conspiracy?" The team nodded. Figured. If anything would get them to stop bickering and present a united front, it would be Abby. Glaring at the mutiny, eyes going from one team member to the next with no effect, he finally looked down and muttered "She doesn't want to see me. Kicked me out of the lab."

McGee broke first. "Sorry, Boss. We didn't know."

Ziva picked up the Caf-Pow. "I will go."

Seeing McGee and DiNozzo staring, he snapped "Don't you two have work to do?"

"Yes, Boss." They chorused, immediately looking busy. He stared at his computer, suddenly wondering if sending Ziva, a trained Mossad interrogator, down to see Abby had been a good idea.

 

The elevator dinged sometime later, and Ziva stood in the car, arms folded, looking as pissed as he'd ever seen her. She motioned for him to join her. Shit. Apparently Abby had filled her in on at least some of the situation, and Ziva was almost as protective of Abby as he was. Saw her as some kind of kid sister. And if someone had done to Abby what he'd done to Abby... He was so dead. He walked to the elevator. May as well get it over with. Wasn't like he didn't deserve it, and probably worse to let her kill him in his sleep. At least this way he'd see it coming.

He entered the elevator and she hit the emergency stop a second after the doors closed. In the next breath he found himself slammed up against the wall, stars floating in front of his eyes. As his vision cleared, he saw Ziva two inches from his face, her voice low as she said "While Abby did not give me details, she told me enough. I wish to be clear. The only reason you are not dead is that Abby wishes you to continue to breathe. Therefore, you will remove your head from your anus and fix it. I do not care what you have to do. Fix. It. Am I understood?"

He nodded. She released him and sent the elevator back to the bullpen as he drew in a few deep breaths of oxygen. Leaving the elevator first, she looked back at him, withdrawing a paperclip from her pocket. "Remember, Gibbs. Eighteen ways." The paperclip fell to the ground as she returned to her desk, turning to her computer as if nothing had happened.

He let the elevator doors close, leaning against the wall. He wondered how many people had gotten that close to Ziva when she was that mad and lived to tell the story. He'd guess not many. He shook his head, starting to laugh. Abby wanted him still breathing. That was a start. Now where to go from there... Autopsy.

He wandered into Autopsy to find Ducky. He needed some help if he was going to do this right, and he certainly wasn't asking McGee or DiNozzo. Before losing his nerve, he blurted out his question. "So, Duck... what do you do when a woman's so upset she won't talk to you?"

Ducky put down his scalpel and turned to face him. "Honestly, Jethro. You haven't figured this out for yourself by now?"

Gibbs folded his arms and growled "Three ex-wives, Duck."

"Well, there is that. Apparently some advice may be in order. I take it we are referring to Abigail?" Gibbs nodded and Ducky motioned for him to sit. "It would depend on what exactly you've done to upset the young lady."

Uh oh. He wasn't going there. Ziva was already wanting to kill him. As he wasn't about to add Ducky to the list, he summarized. "I said something stupid."

"I would imagine that the best course of action would depend entirely on the nature of what kind of 'upset'. Women do have quite the range, don't they. If she happens to be angry-upset, as in would happily have your testicles for breakfast, I would give up hope until she approaches you. Hell hath no fury, as they say."

Abby wasn't that mad, was she? He didn't think so. She'd have let Ziva kill him.

Ducky went on. "Then, there is hurt-upset."

Gibbs nodded. "She doesn't want me dead, so probably that."

"Depending on the woman, and depending on what exactly you did, I would advise that a safe course of action would be starting with flowers and an apology, and, assuming she forgives you, proving to her that you'll do everything in your power to avoid a repeat of whatever it was that got you in the proverbial doghouse to begin with."

"I can do the flowers thing. Never seemed to work before, though."

Ducky shook his head. "Any man can buy a handful of weeds, Jethro."

"Damn it, Duck. I'm not good at words. What's she want me to do?"

Ducky shrugged. "Ask her. If she'll speak to you after you apologize, that is." He turned back to his latest corpse. "Now that reminds me of a lovely woman I met in Paris. Madeline... oh, she drove me to distraction, she did..."

Ducky droned on as Gibbs slipped out the door. Flowers he could handle. As for apologies, he would so break Rule Six here. He'd screwed up. Not repeating the same mistake? He knew he wouldn't. He'd been miserable this last week. From the brief moments he'd seen her, she'd been less than happy herself. He sure as hell wasn't going to do anything that stupid again. However, he had no clue how to convince her of that.

When Abby got to her desk on Friday morning, there was the usual paperwork and Caf-Pow waiting for her. And on top of the file was a perfect black rose, a small envelope hanging from the stem, her name scrawled on the front. Recognizing the writing, her mind warring between tossing it in the trash or putting the bloom in a vase, she opened the card.

"Abs-

I fucked up. Bad.

Sorry. Forgive me?"

It wasn't signed. It didn't need to be. She'd know that handwriting anywhere and here was only one person who had fucked up that badly, and if he was breaking Rule Six, he was well aware how badly. The rose went in a vase, but she wasn't quite ready to talk to him yet. The NCIS Christmas party was that evening, and Vance had made it clear that it was mandatory. That would be soon enough.


Gibbs, ever punctual, was one of the first at the party, figuring if he arrived early, he could put in an appearance and leave early. He was at the bar chatting absently with DiNozzo when Ziva and Abby entered. DiNozzo whistled under his breath. "Damn, Boss. I think they're trying to kill us."

Gibbs took in the sight before him. "DiNozzo, I think they are." He chuckled as DiNozzo relaxed, having braced himself for a head-smack. He wouldn't deny that Ziva looked beautiful in her long green gown, but Abby... Abby was breathtaking. Her hair was twisted up into some complicated style that he had no doubt she'd had help with, and her velvet v-neck dress hit her in all the right places, resting just above her knee. And the shoes. Damn. She was wearing those shoes. Maybe she did want him dead. She was doing a damn good job of trying to give him a heart attack with the same black patent leather shoes tied with ribbons that she'd worn that night. The night that he couldn't get out of his mind, that he wasn't sure he ever wanted to get out of his mind.

She turned to say something to Ziva, and his glass fell out of his hand, hitting the bar with a thud. She did want him dead. The back of her dress was barely there, coming to a point at the small of her back, displaying the stunning cross tattoo. At the sound of the falling glass, Tony looked at him in surprise. "Boss?"

"Nevermind, DiNozzo." He turned back to the bar and ordered another bourbon. At least the glass had been empty before he'd dropped it.

"Boss?" He glanced back at DiNozzo. "Is that mistletoe in Abby's hair?"

Oh, yeah. She was definitely trying to kill him.

He remained at the bar for the evening, joined a bit later by Vance and McGee, watching as Abby flitted around the room, receiving many kisses on the cheek as people noticed her mistletoe. She certainly was everyone's sweetheart. Conversation went on around him, but he had no idea what was being said. Finally, she drifted his way. "Hi, McGee, Tony, Director!" Her eyes landed on him. "Gibbs." Her voice wasn't cold, but there was a definite drop in enthusiasm.

"Abs." He acknowledged, not sure what to do. He'd seen the flower on her desk when she was at lunch. He'd checked to make sure she hadn't thrown it out, wanting to have some idea of her reaction. He still had no idea what to say to her, especially not with everyone standing around.

Tony jumped in. "Hey, Abby, is that mistletoe?"

"Yep! Ziva did it!" She spun around to show it off. "Isn't it pretty?"

"I guess you're technically under it..." Tony pecked her on the cheek quickly.

Gibbs turned away, muttered something about getting some air and retreated to the balcony with his bourbon. He leaned on the railing of the sheltered patio, watching snow begin to drift from the sky. He was only slightly surprised when he felt Abby next to him. "You know, the mistletoe wasn't for Tony."

He shrugged. "Didn't want to assume." He kept looking out at the snow.

"Thank you for the rose."

"Thanks for telling Ziva not to kill me."

"I just reminded her that if I wanted you dead, I can kill without leaving any forensic evidence."

Hearing the smile in her voice, he glanced over at her. "I'll keep that in mind."

"She feels bad, though, for losing her temper."

"Not happy about it, but can't fault her for standing up for a friend. You look-" He hesitated to use the word 'beautiful', knowing it was what he'd called her that night. "stunning tonight." He finished.

"Thank you."

He reached out for her, subconsciously ready to run his hand down her cheek, signing my girl when he realized he wasn't sure he had the right to do that and let his hand drop to her shoulder. Her skin was like ice, and he realized that she was standing out here talking to him in a snowstorm, and while the dress was almost as stunning as the woman in it, it was sleeveless and backless. "You also look cold." He slipped out of his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

"Thanks." She paused, looking out at the snow, and he got the feeling she was going to ask something he didn't want to answer. "Gibbs- I need to know why-"

Hoping to put that off just a while longer, he asked "Maybe we should save that talk for later?" indicating all their coworkers inside.

"We have a lot to talk about later. I just need to know why. We had such a wonderful night, I know neither of us were thinking it was a one-time thing..." She glanced up, looking for confirmation that she hadn't read him completely wrong, and he gave it to her with a short nod. "But then after..." She let her voice trail off. They both knew what had happened.

He couldn't bring himself to look at her, so he turned his eyes back to the storm. "Not sure what to say." She just waited, letting the silence grow heavy. He owed her this answer, and they both knew it. "Abs, you're...important. And when I get-" He hunted through his mind for the right words. "Involved with somebody, I mess up. And they leave. Don't want you to leave."

Abby gave him an annoyed look. "So you figured you'd mess up right from the start?"

He shrugged. "Could've thought that through better."

Abby's hand colliding with the back of his head said it all.

At the bar, the team was watching them with interest. Tony winced. "Ouch! Did Abby just head-smack the boss?"

Ziva nodded. "It would appear so. Though, as they are speaking, it seems as though he is forgiven, at least somewhat."

They looked on as the two walked back inside arm in arm, Abby draped his jacket over a chair, and they moved to the dance floor. Tony offered his hand to Ziva, who shook her head, then shrugged. "Why not. It is, as you say, Christmas." Tony kept a respectable distance between them, but noted that the same could not be said for Gibbs and Abby.

Gibbs, at first, wasn't quite sure where to put his hands with Abby standing so close. He didn't know if having his hand on her bare back was appropriate, still not knowing exactly where they stood with each other, but having his hand at her waist was awkward. Abby laughed and murmured "Stop thinking so much. It's just dancing. We'll work the rest out later." He let himself relax and just hold her close, her head on his shoulder. He breathed in her slight scent of gunpowder and vanilla as they moved slowly to the music, only vaguely listening to the Stevie Nicks song played in the background by the DJ.

"I've been afraid of changes,

cause I built my life around you..."

Gibbs tightened his arms around her, reminding himself that sometimes, change was a good thing. "Abs?" She murmured an acknowledgment. "Come back to my place tonight?" She looked up at him sharply and he realized his mistake and rephrased his question. "Just...you're right. We should talk. Just talk. I'll drive you home after, or I've got the guestroom."

She was quiet for a few moments, thinking, and then nodded. "Okay. Just talk. Talking would be good. I need to tell Ziva. She was my ride here."

The song ended and he reluctantly let her slide out of his arms and dash over to Ziva to explain their plans. He retrieved his jacket as Abby collected her cloak and purse and met him at the door, Ziva catching his eye on the way with a pointed look, a silent message passing between them that needed no translation. He helped Abby with her cloak and they stepped out into the cold.


They drove back to his house in silence, the car chilly despite the heater, and the windshield wipers on high to keep the swirling snow away. Abby curled up in the front seat, wrapping her cloak tighter around her, grateful when they pulled into the driveway. She waited for him to come around and open her door, taking his hand as he helped her out of the car. While her shoes were ideal for dancing, they weren't well suited to an icy, snow covered driveway.

She hung up her cloak as he flipped the lights on. He disappeared into the kitchen for a few minutes, returning with two mugs of coffee, pressing one into her hands. "Sorry, no Caf-Pow machine in my kitchen."

She wrapped her hands around the mug. "It's okay. It's warm." As she turned to walk to the couch, the lights flickered once and went out. "Um...Gibbs? It's dark."

"Power line must've gone down." He fumbled around in the dark and found the flashlight kept underneath the table.

"Okay, that's a little better." Abby set her coffee down on the table and made her way to sit down. "Maybe we should've gone to my place. It might be um...brighter."

Gibbs chuckled. "Abs, the power's less reliable there, and your pipes are probably frozen."

"Oh. Right." She glanced at the flashlight in his hand. "So we're talking by flashlight?"

"Nah. Don't want to waste the batteries."

"Gibbs! We're not going to sit here in the dark! There's an awful storm outside and not even a moon and that's just scary and-"

He held up his hand. "Never said we were, Abs. Relax." He knelt in front of the fireplace and arranged a few logs, and had a fire burning brightly in a few moments. "Better?"

"Yeah." She nodded. "And warmer too."

He settled back against the couch cushions. "You still mad?"

She shook her head. "I stopped being mad sometime on Sunday."

He looked up in surprise. "But Monday...?"

"I wasn't mad. I was hurt. I was hurt that you said that awful stuff and just made decisions that affected both of us, and your timing really, really sucked. That was awful."

He took a breath, absorbing what she was saying. "At Heather's, you said you were okay?"

"And I was! And I would have been! You don't get it, Gibbs!" She smacked her hand down on the armrest in frustration. "I was fine when we left. I was fine when we got to my place." She stood and started pacing in front of the fireplace. "I had that warm, fuzzy, relaxed endorphins feeling, I was enjoying it, and I'd have just gone upstairs, gone to bed and had a wonderful night's sleep." He stood and moved next to her, and she turned to look at him, her index finger poking him in the chest. "But that's not what happened, Gibbs!" She was blinking back tears. "I mean, if I'd been playing with someone I'd just met, okay, fine, but I wasn't. I was playing with you! It was this amazing, intense...thing!"

He moved closer to her, touching her arm. "I know."

"And you totally yanked me out of that nice place and it really, really sucked!" Seeing the tears fall, he reached out to pull her to him, but she stopped him with a hand on his chest. "And all that was really horrible, Gibbs. But the worst thing was that after I'd trusted you, let myself be vulnerable in front of you, you couldn't bring yourself to trust me enough to talk to me!" She looked away, wiping her tears with the back of her hand.

He cupped her cheek with his hand, trying to turn her head to look at him. "Abs. Abby, look at me." She shook her head. "Please." Giving in, her eyes met his, and he brushed away her tears with his thumb. "I handled that badly. Should've talked to you. Won't happen again."

"Promise?"

He took a breath. "I'm not good at this, at talking. Don't want to make a promise I can't keep." She looked down and started to turn away from him when he caught her by the shoulder. "But I'll promise to try."

She nodded. "I can live with that."

Gibbs wasn't sure who moved first, but suddenly he found himself with his arms full of Abby. He wasn't sure how long he held her against his chest, his hands softly caressing her back, but he knew he didn't want to let her go. Finally, he felt her pull back. "Gibbs? Can we sit down? My feet are killing me!"

Gibbs guided Abby over to the couch where she propped her feet up on the ottoman. "That's better." She sighed.

Looking down at her, he went with his famous gut and sank to his knees in front of her, gently touching the ribbons tying her shoes. "May I?"

She nodded, sighing as he slipped the shoes from her feet and gently ran his thumbs up her arches, finding the sore spots and easing away the pain. Glancing down at Gibbs kneeling in front of her, she smirked. "I could get used to this."

Focusing his attention on the foot he judged most tense, listening to her gasp as he found a particularly tense spot. "You could. Wouldn't mind if you did."

She chuckled and raised an eyebrow at him. "I wasn't just talking about the foot massage."

He looked away, focusing his attention on his task, unsure just how to respond to that. Finally deciding the truth was best, he muttered. "Neither was I."

Chapter Text

Abby looked down at Gibbs in disbelief.  “What are you saying, Gibbs?” 

He looked down, smiling and shaking his head. “I think after all this you can call me Jethro, Abby.”

She chuckled. “That's gonna take some getting used to.”  She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Gibbs, you gotta tell me if I'm reading this totally wrong, because I may be a switch, but somehow I don't think you are.”

“I'm not.”

“Then what are you saying, Gibbs?” Abby repeated.

Resting back to sit on his heels, Gibbs looked down, gathered his thoughts, and then looked up to meet her questioning gaze.  “Abs, I fucked up. Bad. Didn't think about how what I said would affect you. Some things ya just don't understand til you've been there...”

“So you want to... submit so you can understand the perspective?” Abby asked incredulously.

“Kinda sounds stupid when you put it like that.” 

Abby sighed.  “That isn't how I meant it, Gibbs... Jethro.” She corrected herself. She patted the couch cushion next to her.  “Come sit up here. I think we need to talk as equals, and having you down there like that is kinda weirding me out.” 

He slid up onto the couch to sit next to her, not wanting to stand and tower over her, even for a moment.  “Better?”

“Much.”  She looked at him intensely, as if trying to look through his eyes to his soul.  “So, tell me more about this sudden desire you have to submit.”  

“It's not sudden.  Been thinking about it for a while.”  He was talking more to his hands folded in his lap than he was to Abby.

“Really?” 

  “Yeah.” He confessed, finally looking up at her.  “Hurt you, Abs. Never wanna do that again.”

“Let me see if I've got this straight.” She reached out and took his hand. “You want to understand what a sub goes through so you can... be a better dom?” He shrugged.  “ I guess that kinda makes sense. I've pretty much always switched, so I'm not even sure what it would be like to only really understand one side of it. Even if it's not your thing, it'll be educational. So, when do you want to do this?” 

“Been thinking about it long enough. Don't wanna change my mind.  Soon.” He stated, then looked down. “Now's good.”

She reached over and turned his face to look at her.  “Are you sure about what you're asking for?”

“No.” He paused for a moment. “But sure I need to do it.”

Abby chuckled.  “Good enough. Gibbs, I need you to promise me something.” Abby watched him intently to make sure she had his full attention.  “I need you to promise me that you'll use your safewords if you need them, even if you just need to slow things down a little bit. Tell me your safewords.”  

He sighed, irritated and wanting to just get on with it. “Stoplights. Red for stop, yellow for slow down.”

She reached for his hand again.  “Jethro, this isn't a punishment.  It's an experience, and I want it to be a good one.  So, I need you to trust me, but I need you to trust yourself too.  I want honest reactions from you, and if you need your safewords, promise me you'll use them.”

“Okay.” He took a deep breath.  “I promise.”

“We should really negotiate some.  I need to know where your limits are.”

“Don't really know.” He shrugged.  “Never done this. At least, never done this...like this.”

Abby chuckled.  “Okay. Let's start with the basics. Restraints?” He gave a short nod. “Spanking?” Another nod. “Blindfold?” He hesitated, swallowing, then nodded slowly.

“Okay. That’s a start.  I wasn’t planning on playing tonight, so I don’t have any of my kit with me.” Abby looked at him, concerned. “I’ve improvised before, but since we don’t know for sure how you’ll react, maybe we should wait until we can prepare better?” 

Gibbs shook his head. Now that the decision was made and out in the open, it was happening. Waiting just gave him more time to worry, and the last thing he wanted to do to Abby was freak out on her again. Taking a breath, he made a decision and stood, offering her his hand. “I need to show you something.” 

He lit an oil lamp he kept on hand for emergencies, and she followed barefoot as he led her up the stairs to the second floor. He opened a narrow door at the end of the hallway and revealed a steep staircase. He led her up, through another door at the top of the staircase, and set the lamp down on a table, turning up the flame so the light flickered warmly around the room.

Abby looked around the finished attic. There were some cabinets on the far end, a window, and shelves with books, but the centerpiece of the room was a large bed with an obviously handcrafted bed frame, complete with tall headboard and footboard.  A matching armoire, dresser, and two nightstands completed the set. As Gibbs lit two candles that were on the dresser, Abby took a closer look at the furniture and noted that built into the headboard design were areas that could easily anchor restraints.  “Gibbs...Wow! Was this- I mean, I saw the windows, obviously, but I thought it was just an attic.”

“It was. When Shannon and I found out Kels was on the way, we wanted more room, so I finished the attic.”

Abby let out a slow breath. “Are you sure you want me in here? I kind of feel like I’m invading someplace private.” 

Gibbs turned to her and rested his hands on her shoulders, locking her gaze with his. “Not invading, Abs. Welcome. This room shouldn’t be closed up anymore. I’ll never forget ‘em, but Shannon and Kels are my past.  You’re my present. And, I hope-” He hesitated. “Future?”

She nodded. “For as long as you’ll put up with me.”

He kissed her softly. “You’re easy to put up with, Abs.”  

“So are you, Gibbs.”

He motioned to the cabinets and handed her a key. “Anything in the right one is fine.  The stuff in the one on the left…” He paused, not sure how to proceed.

“Special stuff you’d prefer not to use?” She watched his face carefully. “Or did we just find a limit?” He looked down and muttered something Abby couldn’t quite make out. “Jethro? Is this a limit?”

He nodded.

“Good. We all have them.” She reminded gently.  “Hard limit or soft?”

He considered the question and answered cautiously. “Don’t think anything in this room would be a hard limit. Not with you.”

“But with another dom?”

Gibbs laughed nervously. “Abs, doing this at all would be a hard limit with anyone else.  Don’t trust anyone else that much. Never have.” 

“Shannon never-” Abby stumbled over her words. “I’m sorry, is it okay to ask?”

He nodded. “Yeah, it’s okay, Abs. Subject never came up.  Taking charge wasn’t what Shanon wanted.” He chuckled. “At least, not in bed.  In bed, she wanted to be taken care of. I wanted to take care of her. Worked for us.” 

“Sometimes you just want to let go, take a leap, and trust that someone’s there to catch you.” Abby commented. He nodded and Abby reached up and caressed his cheek, gently turning his face towards her. Meeting his eyes, she asked “Do you trust me, Jethro?”

“With my life, Abs.”

She laughed softly and shook her head. “That’s easy.” She touched his temple, his silver hair soft against her fingertips. “Trusting me here is easy.” She slid her hand down his neck to his chest, feeling his heart pounding under layers of cotton and muscle. “I need you to trust me here. Can you do that? Do you trust me with your heart?”

He nodded. “Yeah, Abs. I do.”

She leaned forward and kissed him, the softest, sweetest kiss he had ever experienced. Her tongue gently probed at his lips, and he opened to her, letting her kiss him as she wished. Finally, she broke away, nibbling gently on his lower lip. “Ready?”

“Not sure I’ll ever be really ready, but yeah.”

She cupped his face in her palm, stroking her fingers lightly down his cheek. “You’re always taking care of everyone else, Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Let me take care of you. Please.”

He recognized that ‘Please’ for what it was. Not a question but a softly spoken command. He answered her anyway, taking a breath and meeting her eyes. “Okay.”

His consent given, she nodded, running her hands down his chest. “Overdressed, Gibbs.” She undid the top button of his shirt and caressed the skin at his throat. “Take this off and lay down on the bed, hands behind your head. Close your eyes and keep them closed.  I’ll know if you peek.” She watched him carefully as he nodded. “You can leave the underwear. For now.” She smirked at him. “I want the pleasure of removing those myself.” 

Hands shaking, he slowly did as she asked, laying his dress shirt, pants, and undershirt on the chair, and leaving his shoes and socks below.   She leaned back against the cabinet door, watching him carefully until he reclined on the bed, laced his fingers together behind his head, and closed his eyes, waiting. 

She turned to the cabinets and unlocked the doors, curious as to what exactly Gibbs kept in there. The man never locked his front door, but he locked these cabinets. As she opened them and the smell of leather reached her nose, she realized why. The right side had all kinds of items, cuffs, crops, floggers, and leather straps with clips that were obviously meant to secure the cuffs to the bed. A small silver chain hung on a hook, and she smiled as she saw what dangled from it. She picked up the item and set it aside, and considered opening the left cabinet. 

Although she wasn’t planning on getting anywhere close to his limits tonight, curiosity got the better of her and she grabbed the handle.  Sitting on the center shelf were several dildos, plugs, and anal beads made of glass. She could see outlines in the dust of the bare shelves where other items had lain, and she assumed that if the items had been Shannon’s, anything rubber or silicone had probably been disposed of due to age. She filed the soft limit away in her mind. It wouldn’t be an issue tonight. 

She pulled a blindfold out of the right cabinet, along with a set of wrist and ankle cuffs and straps. She set everything down on the nightstand table. “Can you keep your eyes closed and your hands to yourself?” She trailed a finger down his naked chest and tugged lightly on the waistband of his pants. “No matter what?”

He unconsciously shifted his hips toward her hand. “I want to see you, Abs. Want to touch you.”

“You have a choice here, Jethro. I can either trust you, or-“ She picked up one of the cuffs and wrapped it around his wrist. “I can help you. What’ll it be? Should I trust you?”

He swallowed. He wanted to prove he could do what she asked of him, but the temptation to look at her, to reach for her, was so great.

Sensing his dilemma, Abby lightly ran a fingernail down his ribs. Without any thought, the tickling sensation overcame his best intentions and his eyes flew open, his hand catching her wrist. She smirked at him. “So that’s a no, then?”

He groaned at how easily he’d been played and returned his hands to their former position behind his head, closing his eyes. “That wasn’t fair, Abs.”

She slipped the blindfold over his head, covering his eyes. Leaning over him, she wrapped a cuff around his wrist and secured it to the bedpost, whispering in his ear. “I never promised to play fair.”

His head fell back into the pillow. He was so screwed. 

 


 

She finished securing his wrists and ankles to the bedposts and stepped back to admire her handiwork. “Doing okay, Jethro?”

He nodded. “I think so, Abs.” 

She leaned down to whisper in his ear. “If anything becomes not okay, I want to know about it.” He felt her lips on his temple. “This is supposed to be fun.”  With that, she nipped sharply at his earlobe, the pain there and gone before it really registered.  

She withdrew from the bed and chuckled to herself.  “Damn, I could look at you all day, my silver-haired fox.”  She leaned over and kissed him, her lips soft and then more insistent. “You still have too many clothes on.”

“He tugged lightly on the cuffs holding his wrists.  “Can't do much about that now, Abs.”

He could almost hear her smirk. “Rule nine, Gibbs. You particularly attached to those shorts?” 

The dominant's voice in his mind admired her tactics, giving him the chance to opt out of a knife in the scene without having to safeword to do it.  However, he'd seen Abby slicing specimens in her lab. If there would be anyone he would trust with a blade, it would be Abby. “Nope.” He gestured with his chin in the direction he'd left his pants. “Right front pocket.”

Abby grinned and trailed her hands over his body, purposely bypassing areas that were really wanting her attention.  “Tease.” he groaned in frustration.

“Yes. And?” He could hear the smile in her voice as he heard the rustle of fabric as she retrieved his pocketknife.

“Just an observation.”

“Did you want something?” She asked playfully. 

“Yes.” Gibbs growled.

“And what would that be?” Abby asked impishly, opening the blade with a click.

“Let me out of these cuffs and I'll show you.” 

“You want out, you've got a safeword.” She laughed.  “Until I hear it, you're mine.” She growled in his ear, echoing the words he had spoken to her upstairs at Heather's.  “And since I'm not hearing a safeword...” He felt cold steel against his thigh, heard her slicing away the fabric and felt a rush of cool across him as she tossed away the now useless undershorts, and the warmth of her hand surrounding him.  “Jethro, either there's something you're not telling me, or being tied up and completely at my mercy actually turns you on.”  

“Like I said before, Abs-” He gasped as her thumb brushed over the tip of his cock. “You turn me on.”

She leisurely moved her hand up and down his length as she leaned over to kiss him. “I saw the look in your eyes when we talked downstairs, Leroy Jethro Gibbs.  But if you want to keep lying to yourself...” He groaned as her hand left him and he heard her rummaging for whatever it was she had left on the table, followed by a metallic jingle as something landed on the bed next to him.

“Those better not be my handcuffs, Abby.” He warned.

She laughed.  “You're already tied up, Gibbs.  Nope, not your cuffs. Something better.”

He tried to remember what else he'd left in that cabinet when her lips closed around the head of his cock and suddenly the mystery item didn't seem so important.  She brought him to the very edge and then pulled away as his breathing became ragged. “Not without permission, Jethro.” She tutted at him.

“You tryin' to kill me, Abs?” He grumbled in frustration.

She giggled.  “I've seen many causes of death, Gibbs, but orgasm denial has never been one of them.”  She paused. “Hmm... it does make me wonder if it's possible.” She reached out and lightly pinched his nipple.  “Maybe we'll find out.”

Gibbs groaned in frustration.  Abby was better than he'd given her credit for... a lot better.  He'd be lucky to survive this. But what a way to go!

Her hand continued to stroke him gently, her lips moving higher to close over his nipple.  She teased it for a moment, then pulled back, blowing lightly. “Take a breath, let it out slowly, and then count to five before you say anything else.” 

He heard the metallic jingle again.  “Whacha up to, Abs?” 

“Don't worry about what I'm doing, Jethro.” She smacked his flank lightly.  “Now breathe and count to five.” Her voice took on a warning tone. “Do not make me repeat myself again.” 

“Yes, Ma'am.” he replied reflexively.

“Hmm... I like that, Jethro.” He could hear the smile in her voice as he wondered where that had come from.  Abby hadn't said he needed to address her formally. He inhaled as directed, wondering what she was up to. As he exhaled, suddenly he felt a searing pain in his right nipple and he knew.  Abby had found Shannon's nipple clamps. His mind screamed and he felt panic start to grip him. He'd tried these on once after they'd bought them and he found the sensation so painful he'd lasted less than a second before removing the clamp in a hurry.  Shannon had loved them, though he'd never understood why.

For a brief moment he considered his safeword, but remembering what Abby had asked, he counted slowly to five in his head as he focused on his breathing and found the pain rapidly receded to a dull throb.

He felt Abby's hand around his slightly softened shaft.  “Doing okay, Jethro?”

He nodded.  “I am now.”

He felt her lips brush the tip of his cock as she whispered “Good boy.” before he felt her lips and tongue on him again.  She reached up a hand to play with his left nipple and he knew what was coming though for the moment, with her lips on him, he couldn't bring himself to care.

Just as he felt himself almost reach the edge, suddenly she was gone, his hips bucking up to the empty air.  

He felt her roll his nipple between her fingers and distantly heard her telling him to breathe over the roar of blood pounding through his ears. Complying without consciously doing so, he quickly felt the sharp pain peak and then recede, Abby's hand on his cock keeping him hard the whole while. 

He heard a rustle of velvet and silk and felt the velvet brush across his chest, hearing a soft thud as her dress landed on the floor on the other side of the room.  “That's better.” he heard her say, and a desperate sound escaped from his throat. “Problem, Jethro?”

“Just want to see you.”

“Well, since you've been so good, I can take off the blindfold-” She gently tugged on the chain between the clamps and he gasped as they tightened briefly.  “If you ask nicely.”

Briefly weighing the humiliation of asking against the reward of the lack of blindfold, before he could convince himself to think further about it, he whispered “Please, Ma'am will you take off the blindfold.”

Abby chuckled to herself. “As you wish.”  She reached up and removed the blindfold, his eyes blinking in the light of the lanterns he had left on the dresser.  His eyes settled on her, her skin glowing in the flickering light, the shimmer of the black silk slip that still covered her body, thin straps over her shoulders, dipping low in the back to completely expose her tattoo.  She smiled at the obvious appreciation in his eyes.  “Like what you see, Jethro?”

“When I'm lookin' at you, Abs, always.”

She reached out and ran a finger along the underside of his cock.  “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“Not flattery. Just the truth.”  He looked down at himself and gave her a slightly chagrined smile.  “Not exactly how I'd pictured the first time you'd see me naked.” 

She took a slightly firmer grip on him. “You imagined me seeing you naked?”

“More imagined me seeing you naked.” He shrugged.

She leaned over, her lips barely touching his and whispered “You wanna see me naked, Jethro?” her hand tightened around him as she spoke, moving quickly up and down his shaft.

His breathing quickened as he gasped out “Yes, Ma'am.”

Moments too soon, her hand withdrew and she reached up to tweak the chain on the clamps.  “Too bad.”

He groaned in frustration and let his sink back into the pillow.  “Wanna touch you, Abs.”

Her hand returned to stroke him, continuing the sweet torture of bringing him back to the edge. “Sorry, Jethro.” By her tone, she was not sorry at all.  “But I have you here, cuffed to a bed, and right now-” She tugged lightly on the chain again, making him hiss with an odd mix of pain and arousal. “I want to play.”  She paused, considering. “Maybe later, if you're good.”

Her hand gripped him and a moment later he felt her lips on him again, bringing him to the edge and back, denying him release so many times he lost count, her hands alternately playing with his balls and toying with the chain on the clamps, the pleasure and pain blurring together into one giant mass of sensation that he couldn't even begin to process. He found himself straining against the cuffs, thrusting his hips desperately toward her, asking for release; he hesitated to call it begging but that's what it was.  “Abs, please, anything you want. Anything, can't take any more. Please.”

She smiled down at him.  “Anything, Jethro?”  

Leaning down, she ran her tongue along his shaft ash he gasped “Yes, Ma'am, please let me finish.”

She reached up, grasping a clamp in each hand.  “Expect me to hold you to that promise of anything, Jethro.”

He nodded as her tongue swept over his tip. “Anything.”

“Then come for me.” She whispered, her mouth engulfing him.  He felt himself slide down her throat as her fingers released the clamps.  The blinding flash of pain in his nipples as the clamps released somehow combined with the waves of pleasure and desperation to twist together into something completely unknown.  The world exploded behind his eyes as he exploded into her mouth, going on for what somehow seemed like eternity and a split second simultaneously, and then the world went dark.


When he came back to himself, the cuffs were no longer attached to the bed and he was lying on his side, his head pillowed on Abby's silk-clad breast, a blanket wrapped around his body, her hand stroking leisurely through his hair.  “Welcome back, sleepyhead.”

“How-” He cleared his throat. “How long-”

“You were a little out of it for a bit. Not long.” She smiled.  “How are you feeling?”

He took a brief personal inventory.  “Good. A little sore from the cuffs and ...stuff, but good.” He could see some light bruising under the wrist cuffs where he had been straining against the leather and was grateful he had decided to bring Abby up here instead of just using his work handcuffs downstairs. 

She reached over to the nightstand and handed him a glass of water.  “Drink.” He brought the glass to his lips, hands shaking and she reached out and helped steady the glass, returning it to the nightstand when he was done.

She leaned down, unbuckling the cuffs around his ankles and he felt a strange, indescribable sense of loss as the leather left his skin. She reached for his wrist and he instinctively pulled his arm away toward his chest. She noticed, of course, and caught his hand, bringing his wrist up to her lips as the cuff slipped down an inch or so. She pressed a light kiss to the inside of his wrist. “Would you like to leave these a while longer?”

He looked away, embarrassed, and gave a small nod. Abby let go of his wrist and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him down to lay with her as she reclined against the pillows. “Everything still a little overwhelming?”

He nodded, his hair brushing against her silk slip. She smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I sometimes like to wear them longer too. I always found them to be- grounding in a way. A reminder that even though the scene is over, that I’m safe and protected until I feel ready to face the world.  You’re safe with me, Gibbs. I’m not going anywhere.”

He snuggled into her shoulder. “Love you, Abs.”

She ran her fingers through his hair. “I love you too, Leroy Jethro Gibbs.”

He wrapped his arm around her waist, resting his head on her shoulder and drifted off into the best sleep he'd had in over a decade.

 


 

He woke up to the morning light, the falling snow still hissing on the windowpane.  Sometime during the night he and Abby had spooned against each other. Smiling, he plucked the now slightly crushed sprig of mistletoe out of her hair and twirled it between his fingers, kissing her gently behind her ear.

“Mmm...” She purred as she rolled over.  “Morning, Gibbs.” She slid her hand down his arm and smiled when she encountered the leather cuff still buckled around his wrist. “Ready to take these off?”

He nodded, trying to find words as she released the buckles, pressing a soft kiss to each wrist as she did so. “Abs, last night was…” He racked his brain for a word and came up blank. “...thank you.”

She smiled softly. “No, thank you, Jethro. I know that wasn’t easy for you.” 

“No. It wasn’t.” He gave her a half smile. “Worth it, though.”

Her smile brightened. “Enough to want to do it again sometime?”

His mind wasn’t even close to being able to consider that possibility. “We’ll see, Abs.”

She grinned at him. “That wasn’t a no!”

He chuckled to himself, decided a subject change was in order and held the mistletoe he’d pulled from her hair up over her head.  

She ran her hands down his bare chest. “After last night, you hardly need mistletoe if you want to kiss me, Gibbs.” 

He brushed his thumb across her lips and she opened her mouth, her tongue darting out to gently lick his fingertip.  His eyes slid closed, remembering what her mouth had done to him the night before. She kissed his fingertip and gave him an innocent look.  He smiled down at her, shaking his head. “We good, Abs?”

“Yeah, Gibbs. We're good.”

“You didn't let me touch you last night.”

“I just wanted to focus on you.”

“Still, I'd like to make up for that now.” His fingers trailed gently down her neck to rest in the hollow of her throat. “If that's okay with you?”

“Of course it is! You can touch me however you want, whenever you want, wherever you want...” She slid her leg up over his, wrapping them up in each other. “For as long as you want.” 

His only response was to roll her over in the sheets, pinning her to the mattress with his body, intending to take his time exploring her.  The sun was very high in the sky when they finally headed downstairs hand in hand.   

 

Fin.