Title: Battle of Thrills
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Nothing specific.
Summary: Tease. Tempt. Tremble. But don’t touch.

Author’s Note: Yet another multi-chaptered PWP from me… One-track mind, much? :D

Friday

The game begins by accident. Wearing a low-cut shirt and a skirt even shorter than the ones she usually favours, Abby returns from the bathroom to find Gibbs in her lab, studying the report she was about to drop by his desk on the way out.

He notices her change of clothing and raises an eyebrow. “Going out?”

“Friend’s birthday,” she explains, plucking the file from his hands. “And I wasn’t finished with that.”

Ignoring his glare, she picks a pen up from her desk. It slips through her fingers and skitters across the floor toward Gibbs, and they both bend to pick it up at the same time, ending up crouching scarcely a foot from each other.

He grabs the pen first, handing it to her. She takes it with a murmured thanks, then glances up at him as she begins to rise.

The expression on his face steals the breath from her lungs, and she could swear he was looking down her shirt a moment ago…

Her mind in turmoil, Abby straightens and turns to the report. Trying to reorder her thoughts, she drops into her desk chair, signs off on the last page and slots it into the file.

Holding out the paperwork to Gibbs, she crosses her legs, forgetting that she really shouldn’t do that in this skirt. His eyes stray to her exposed thighs, and she’s pretty sure he got a glimpse of her thong, too…

“See something you like?” she asks softly, pushing back her nerves and focusing on the desire his gaze elicits.

He takes the report from her, not bothering to look through it. Keeping his gaze locked on hers, he speaks. “I’m not playing your games, Abby.”

“Okay,” she agrees easily, shrugging. “Let’s play yours.”

He gives her a long, analytical look, taking in everything from the challenge in her face to the toes of her boots. She suppresses a shiver and waits, trying to keep the desperate anticipation from her face. Please say yes… please…

“You wanna play? You’re on.” His voice is a low growl, and she feels herself respond, a rush of pleasure making her nipples harden and her panties dampen.

“What are the rules?” she whispers.

“Just one. No touching.”

He doesn’t need to say more. She understands within the space of a heartbeat.

Tease. Tempt. Tremble. But don’t touch.

This is the way the game is played, and Gibbs has wanted to introduce Abby to its risky intricacies for longer than he can remember. He knows she’ll be an ingenious player, subtle when needed and blatant when provoked, and the fact that they both know how to sign adds a whole new dimension.

He waits until three a.m. to call her, his gut telling him she’ll be home from her party by then. Setting down his sandpaper, he picks up his cell and dials hers. She answers on the first ring, her voice surprisingly soft. “Hi.”

Gibbs doesn’t bother to return the greeting. “You sure you can handle this?”

“Are you?” she asks, the smile in her voice clearly audible.

“This isn’t my first time playing,” he reminds her, neglecting to mention that the last time was years ago – before he and Abby even met. “And I’m looking forward to taking you right to the edge of coming just with a look, right in front of everyone in the bullpen…”

He hears her breathing catch, and says sharply, “Where are your hands, Abby?”

Her silence speaks volumes, and he feels his own arousal swelling out of control as he reminds her, “No touching.”

She sighs, and the sound slithers deliciously down his spine. “Even after we hang up the phone?”

“You can do whatever you want when I can’t see or hear you.”

“Then just imagine what I’m gonna do when I hang up the phone…” She speaks slowly, testing his reaction, and he laughs softly in encouragement.

“Now you’re starting to get it.”

“Just think of what you could be getting if you came over here right now,” she tells him, in a voice he’s never heard before – a scrap of Southern silk floating on a warm breeze, catching on rough brickwork; gossamer threads tearing loose. “Imagine me lying here, on my bed; every tattoo you’ve ever wondered about on show; my body yours for the taking…”

He grits his teeth; her words evoke clear mental pictures that make him want to end the call and drive across town to her apartment, running every red light along the way.

“Brazen little tease,” he breathes, and she gives a shaky gasp in reply, one that makes him clench his fists against the temptation to touch himself. “You really think I’m gonna give in that easily?”

“Think? No. Hope…?”

“Don’t hold your breath.”

“Oh, I’m not. I know how stubborn you are. So I’m just gonna have to hang up the phone and then bury my fingers between my legs for a while…” Her affected nonchalance is almost convincing, and Gibbs closes his eyes, letting his imagination take him where it will.

“Sure that’s gonna be a real hardship for you.”

He hears her breath escape in a silent laugh. “It’s a little exhausting, I gotta admit… sliding my fingers between my thighs, putting them to work against my clit… Gasping and sighing and moaning your name, dipping my fingers inside me, where it’s so hot and tight and wet…”

Her voice is breathless now; she’s caught up in her own fantasy. He’s right there with her, longing to feel her flesh, possess her lips, feel her tremble against him as he teases her… If she says one more word, he’s gonna lose the game, so he makes a move dimly remembered from a game long past.

“Now it’s your turn to do the imagining,” he says softly. “Imagine that your fingers are mine… my hands on your body, my fingers fucking you until you scream out for me…”

Her breath hitches, and he knows his words have found their intended mark. It’s a couple of seconds before she exhales slowly, and he visualises her there, one hand gripping her headboard to resist the temptation to touch, the other holding the cell to her ear.

Her descriptions of her body run through his mind again, and he can’t stand the torment any longer. “Sweet dreams, Abbs,” he says, and hangs up without waiting for a reply.

Two minutes later, he’s in the shower, his hands on his body; touching, stroking, groaning his way to blessed release. A release made all the more powerful by the knowledge that a couple of miles away, Abby is doing the exact same thing.