Author's Note: The people at (hinkykinky dot livejournal dot com) decided when I had writer's block that this fic was the one I should finish first. So I did. XD Hopefully it's not too much of an anti-climax after all the build-up. As always, thank you to the awesometastic people who have taken the time out of their busy lives to read and comment. You're all very inspiring. :D

The Fall - Part II

Gibbs’ fingers dig into her hips, dragging her in line with his body; her hands comb through his silver hair, pulling him into a hard, desperate kiss. The cool fabric of his clothing, still damp from the storm, feels heavenly against her overheated skin, and she sighs his name as soon as his lips begin to travel down her throat.

Abby strips off his shirt for the second time tonight, this time with none of the careful restraint she showed earlier. She peppers his chest with hungry kisses while she works on his belt, paying no heed to her underwear as he pushes it over her hips and lets it drop to her feet.

Their lips collide again after he kicks off his pants, almost hard enough to bruise, and he drives her back so that she’s sitting on the edge of the table behind them, displacing the pile of clean laundry that had lain there. Abby wraps her legs around his waist, and he strokes a finger between her legs, his breath catching as he finds her slickly ready for him. When he seeks out her clit, she moans and bats his hand away, dragging him closer. “No more games…”

She catches a glimpse of his sudden, predatory grin, and then he’s nipping at the curve of flesh where her neck becomes her shoulder, his face obscured from her view as he drives hard into her. Her head falls back, a cry of satisfaction tearing from her throat as she arches to take him in deeper, relishing the sensations of him moving within her.

Their gazes lock; green and blue flames fed by a common fuel, burning impossibly hotter as they merge. The green is extinguished first: Abby’s eyes fall shut, and she wraps her arms around his neck, whispering, “I need you…”

He lifts her, and she coils around him, serpentine, as tempting as the Biblical snake against his body. The couch is only a few feet away, but it seems like miles. She twists her hips as he takes the first step, and he loses his balance, keeping enough presence of mind to break her fall with his body as he tumbles to the floor. The impact jolts him further inside her, and when he groans, it’s not with pain.

Disoriented, Abby moves against him, adjusting to their newly horizontal position with a throaty giggle. “You okay?”

His response is to grab the back of her neck and drag her down to him, kissing her hard as his free hand teases her breast, flicks her nipple. A shiver ripples through her skin, and she begins to ride him, taking what she needs without apology. Gibbs’ fingers grip her hips, guiding her, and she keeps up a fast, fluid rhythm, her gasps becoming moans as her body tenses muscle by muscle.

Her mind is filled with memories as she moves: his body language as he told her how good she’d look pressed up against his boat with his knee between her thighs; the caged frustration in his gaze when she’d teased him about post-workout adrenaline; the way his skin felt earlier tonight, when she took her ‘free move’ to run her fingertips across his chest… It’s been a long, unbearably tense week, and now she opens her eyes to watch him in the present, her pulse skipping when he tilts his hips to take her harder.

She’s trembling now, poised at the edge of a cliff, yet not quite sure where that edge lies. When he sits up, she wraps her arms around his neck and meets his fierce kiss, using the new angle to move deeper and faster. His skin sears hers; his unsteady breaths compete with hers for oxygen; she’s gasping curses, her nails digging into his shoulders as she writhes against him. What she feels is beyond frustration: no matter how she moves, release stays one slim fraction ahead, denying her.

She half-sobs, unsure how something can feel so good and yet so maddening. “More,” she whispers, burying her face in his neck without interrupting the pace of their dance. “Oh, god, Gibbs, more…”

His hand moves between them, zeroing in on her clit, and within a couple of seconds the cliff crumbles beneath her, and she’s free-falling with a cry of ecstasy. Gibbs’ body against hers anchors her as her sanity tumbles, and she surges against him, riding the aftershocks until he joins her, his arms almost painfully tight around her as he pulls them both back to the carpeted floor.

Abby drifts on euphoria, breathing hard, her body tingling. Gibbs’ heartbeat beneath her ear is loud and strong, only just beginning to slow. He strokes her hair languidly, choosing not to break the satisfied silence just yet.

A few minutes pass before her body calms back into its usual rhythms, and then she lets her hand begin to wander; over his arm, down his chest, his abs, then back up again. All the places she’s longed to touch for years, she now explores with soft strokes, acquainting herself with his flesh now that the urgency of desire has subsided a little.

He tilts up her chin to look into her face, and kisses her as lightly as she’s touching him. She runs her fingers over his features, from his forehead to his chin; he pushes a lock of her hair back from her eyes before turning his attention to her stomach, her waist, raising himself up on one elbow to get a better look.

She strokes her knuckles down his ribs; he responds by passing a thumb over the curve of her breast, up to her collarbone, the touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

When his fingertips ghost down her back, coming to rest at the base of her spine, she kisses him again, allowing the gentle touches to spark her skin back to hypersensitive life. He gets to his feet and helps her up, and she takes his hand, pulling him to her bedroom and onto the bed.

Their second time is relaxed, unhurried. Neither is in a rush to get anywhere, and they take their time, hands and lips straying to unexplored flesh, taking everything that they’ve denied each other for the past week. Then, breathless and content, they lie together comfortably.

Abby gives him a mischievous grin, and speaks the first words in a long while. “So… I won the game…”

Gibbs rolls his eyes, smiling faintly. “Only just.”

Abby doesn’t take the bait, snuggling closer to him. “I knew from the start that I would, you know.” A little white lie under these circumstances isn’t too much of a sin.

“Yeah?” Gibbs says tolerantly, kissing the top of her head. “Why’s that?”

“Because guys are more turned on by visual stimuli,” she explains matter-of-factly. “Put a half-naked woman in front of a straight man, and he’s guaranteed to be more turned on than if you put a half-naked man in front of a straight woman.”

“Hmm.” The utterance is non-committal – he’s only half-convinced. “Then what does it for women?”

“Imagination,” she tells him. “The visualisation of what could be. It’s why men typically watch porn, and women typically read it.”

“That throws your argument out,” he points out, tugging on a lock of her hair. “If you think about a lot of what happened this week, not that much of it was based on appearances…”

Her fingers have been stroking up and down his arm, but they still as she contemplates his words. “I’d say around fifty-fifty.”

“One night was a phone call.”

“One day had me sitting on your desk flashing my thigh at you.”

“One night I just told you you’d look good up against my boat.”

“And one day we were looking at porn together.”

“But one day we were just sitting in church talking.”

“Mmm, that was a good one.” Trying to focus, she sticks her tongue out at him. “This whole thing started because you were looking down my shirt.”

“But the game itself is a mind-fuck.”

“Fifty-fifty,” Abby states again, and Gibbs doesn’t argue. After a second, she giggles again. “And I still won.”

He laughs softly, tightening his arms around her. “So now how do we fill our spare time?”

“How about like this?”

Gibbs nods slowly. “Could work for a while. Somehow I think you’d get bored pretty soon…”

She raises her head from his chest and gives him a smile of pure wickedness. “And then we play a new game.”

He returns the look in kind, thanking all the deities that are out there that he took a chance on this woman. “I have a few in mind…”

END.

And 'end' in this case means 'no sequel'. :P Seriously. I'm all battled out! x