Author's Note: Wow, it took a while, but I finally got around to finishing this. Hope you like!
One Week Later…
"Try to get free."
Obediently, Abby writhes on the bed, tugging at the handcuffs that restrain her wrists and the silk scarves I've tied her ankles to the bedposts with. "Can't," she tells me, half smiling, half apprehensive, as if she's unsure whether the response will lead to reward or punishment. Hell, with Abby, the punishment usually is the reward.
I don't keep her in suspense. "Good." When I bring the whip up into her line of sight, her eyes widen and she bites her lip, a shiver of anticipation thrilling through her body. I pause for a second, giving her time to back out if she needs to, making no attempt to hide the way my eyes sweep over every part of her. "Are you ready?"
She swallows hard, her eyes on the whip. She shakes a tendril of damp hair from her cheek before answering, the words just barely whispered. "Yes, sir."
The way she submits, unquestioning, to my authority makes me want to end this right now. I need to be inside her, need to hear her beg for release, need to lose control completely. But not yet. This scene has to be played out.
Abby looks from the whip to me, and from the slight upward quirk of her eyebrow, I can tell she's caught my train of thought. "Or we could just…" she says softly, shifting seductively against the mattress.
Snapped back into my role, I stare her out until she stills and breaks eye contact. A flicker of amusement remains in her voice as she concedes, "I'm sorry, sir. I was outta line."
"You're damn right," I snap at her, and without warning crack the whip down onto her stomach. She yells in combined pleasure and pain, attempting to suppress the grin on her face.
I pause to let the blow register, knowing she's hardly even trying to be properly submissive. Most of the time, she lets it wash over her, sinking so far into the state that it takes time for her to come back from it. Tonight she's in a playful mood of a completely different kind, cheerfully insolent and willing to take all the punishment I can meter out. I already know that she'll let me whip her until she's sore all over and then defy me for just a little longer, testing how far she can push me.
I've never been one to back down from a challenge.
Abby looks down at the red weal that's rising on her flesh, then up at me. "That the best you can do, sir?"
I raise the whip, never letting my pissed off façade slip. "I haven't even started-"
Abby's phone rings, the unexpected sound disorientating us both. She groans, scowling at the offending object as if it's sentient. "Damn it! Not now!" She tugs at her handcuffs expectantly. "Okay, let me out of these."
I stand there, impassive, and she rolls her eyes. "Gibbs, seriously. Someone's probably dead and we'll have to go to work."
I know she's right, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. Dropping the whip and stepping over the tangle of our clothing, I cross to the dresser and check the caller ID. Sure enough, it's McGee. For a brief moment I entertain the irrational thought of firing him, but it passes.
Without releasing Abby from her bonds, I hit the speakerphone button to answer the call. Taking a deep breath to steady her breathing, she speaks. "McGee, this better be good. I'm a little tied up right now."
As I stifle a chuckle, McGee stammers, "I know, it's really late and I'm sorry. But we have a problem. There's been a triple homicide in Fairfax, and Gibbs isn't answering his cell."
I left it in the car, which is parked outside Abby's place. If McGee tries to GPS-locate me, we're in trouble. I use sign language to communicate the thought across to her, and she winces. "He probably let the battery run down again," she tells McGee. "I'll stop by his place on the way into work, okay?"
"Are you sure? I can run a GPS search…" McGee offers, sounding a little suspicious.
"McGee, do you really want Tony to beat you to the crime scene again? Remember what happened last time? You get going, and I will handle Gibbs." At this last, she winks at me.
You're risking an awful lot here, I sign to her.
Relax, she mouths back.
"You have a point," McGee concedes wearily. "Thanks."
"So what do I tell Gibbs when I see him?" Abby asks.
Silently, I sit on the edge of the bed. Abby's eyes widen, and she shakes her head at me, though I can tell her heart's not really in the denial.
As McGee begins to outline the case, I trail light kisses over her breasts and stomach. When I glance up, I can see she's not taking in anything McGee's saying to her. Her eyes are closed, and a tiny smile tugs at the corners of her lips.
"…Abby?" McGee's voice brings us both down to earth.
"Hmmm?" she replies languorously, before shaking herself out of it. "Sorry, Tim, what?"
McGee sighs. "Oh, geez… When you say you're tied up, you really mean that literally, don't you?"
Abby and I stare at one another for an instant before she cracks up. "I knew there was a reason you were promoted to field agent, McGee. Nothin' gets past you."
"Yeah, I'll be sure to tell Gibbs that," McGee says sarcastically. "I'll see you when I get back."
I swallow laughter as Abby tells him goodbye. He hangs up, and she sighs. "Triple homicide, Gibbs. Doesn't sound like something you can just blow off." I untie her restraints, and she sits up. "Can we continue this later, sir?"
"Count on it," I confirm, pulling her into my lap. She kisses me, pouring all her pent-up sexual frustration into the contact, and desire flares through me. For long moments, I allow the kiss to continue, pushing the awareness that I don't have time to spare to the back of my mind.
Abby moves her lips from mine, down my neck. If I let her carry on, I already know where it's gonna lead, and though there's nothing in the world I'd rather be doing… "Abbs," I say reluctantly.
She stops, getting up and taking a few steps back. Every nerve sensor in my body feels the loss of contact as she says, "Okay, we have minimum safe distance. If you come any closer than this, I can't be held accountable for my actions." She tosses my clothing across the room, then turns to her wardrobe.
As she flicks through the rail of clothing, obviously looking for something specific, an idea tugs at the back of my brain. I wonder if…
"Not that one."
She looks up from the shirt she's pulled out as I speak, puzzled. "Huh?"
I point at a red minidress that's hanging at one end of the wardrobe. "Wear that one."
She gets it then, taking the dress from the wardrobe and staring down at it as she ponders the implications. If she were to comply, she'd be letting me take control of her up a notch, out of the realm of just bedroom play. I don't know if she's ready for that, or if she ever would be, given time.
Abby is silent for so long that I begin to pull on my clothing, giving her time to think. When I look up, she's wearing the dress, nonchalantly leaning into the mirror to tie up her pigtails. Her eyes catch mine in the reflection, holding them for a second before she breaks eye contact, laughing softly.
I step up behind her and gently pull out the pigtail she's just perfected, combing my fingers through her hair. She drops a second hair-tie back onto the dresser, watching my reflection as I reach for her comb and run it through her black locks.
"No pigtails?" she murmurs. "You know I'm gonna have to tie my hair back when I'm working so none of it contaminates evidence."
"Uh-huh," I answer, dropping the comb and sliding my arms around her waist. "But until then…"
"No pigtails," Abby finishes. "Yes, sir." She twists in my arms, looking up at me. "I'm all ready to go. Wanna give me a kiss for the road?"
I'm only too happy to oblige.
I yawn, feeling the effects of yet another sleepless night. Not that it's my fault. See, I plan for the sleeping – it comes right between spending quality time with Gibbs and getting up for work the next morning.
It's been three hours since I got into the lab, which means it won't be long until the team get back with a truckload of evidence for me. A triple homicide's only ever one of two extremes: an open-and-shut, or a gigantic nightmare that swallows up all your free time for weeks. Usually I don't mind the overtime, but I haven't been this into a relationship in a long time. Maybe never.
Well, maybe with Owen. He was my first Dom, and I guess that counts for something. I'd just turned twenty, was completely disillusioned with plain old vanilla sex, and submitting to him was something I just fell into.
But with Owen and every other Dom I've had since, there was always something that was just… off. Like, they'd give me an order, but I never quite believed there'd be consequences for disobeying. They were all too worried about accidentally going too far, even while they were yelling at me. I seem to bring out that protective instinct in people.
Gibbs, though… He's different. When he gives me an order, it's like he expects it'll be obeyed, the first time he asks, without question. It's not an unspoken 'do this, unless you don't want to, I'm not pushing too far, am I?' It's just 'do this'. And it's hot.
Maybe it's cause we've known each other for so long. He can always sense when something's bothering me, and we both know it. He accepts that if I need to stop play, I'll safeword, and if I don't – as if I'd be that stupid – he'll be able to tell.
Tonight, before we got interrupted, I was trying to test his limits, see if he's capable of giving as much as I can take. Okay, so sometimes I can be a bad sub, and I deserve any punishment Gibbs decides I need – and he will decide. But right before McGee phoned, I could see he knew what I was up to, and he wasn't gonna hold back.
I touch a hand to the red welt on my stomach wistfully. Pain flares through it, bringing the events of a few hours ago back to vivid life. At least I have something to look forward to…
"Hey, Abby." Kate staggers into the lab, two plastic containers of bagged evidence weighing her down. Snapped out of my thoughts, I run over and catch the one on top as it falls, setting it safely on the workbench. "Thanks. Gibbs is in the crappiest mood ever, he made me carry all this down here by myse- Hey, your pigtails!"
Self-consciously, I shrug and run a hand through my loose locks. "Yeah, I know. I felt like a change."
Kate analyses me for a moment, smiling slightly, then nods. "It suits you." As I thank her and start picking through the evidence boxes, the bangles on my right wrist slide down my arm, revealing the slight marks Gibbs' handcuffs left there. "I'm sure your new playmate thinks so, too."
Flushing a little, I shake my wrist so the marks are covered again. I never could fool Kate – she's too good a profiler for that. "Oops."
Kate chuckles. "Your secret's safe with me. Just don't let Tony know."
Wincing, I set the samples to be DNA-tested to one side, then reach for my hair ties. Pigtails firmly in place, I glove up and open the first bag. "Definitely wasn't planning on it…"
"So tell me about him!" Kate orders, dragging over my desk chair and settling down to gossip. Normally, I don't mind her asking, but with it being Gibbs? So much potential for disaster… "Where'd you meet? What's his name?"
I open my mouth, my mind scrabbling for a convincing lie. Before I can utter a syllable, a brusque voice cuts me off. "I don't give a damn. Abbs, what have you got for me?"
Catching my sigh of relief before it can escape, I frown up at him. "Wow, Gibbs, growling and snarling, no Caf-Pow!... Wrong side of the bed, much?"
"Okay, okay. I have nothing for you, Gibbs. Kate brought me the evidence like five minutes ago, and though I know I'm good, I'm not that good. You should know by now that I'm not a miracle-worker!"
"Special Agent Todd, don't you have work to be doing?" Gibbs asks Kate pointedly.
She gets up guiltily. "We'll talk later, Abbs."
"Count on it," I reply with a smile. As she leaves the room, I continue to sort through the evidence, conscious of Gibbs invading my personal space when I'm trying to work – as usual.
When I first started at NCIS, it was something that pissed me off. As I got to know him, it became less irritating and more comforting. Lately, the sound of his breathing close to my ear makes my knees weak, and it's such a relief not to have to pretend it doesn't affect me any more.
I open my mouth to ask how long before the case is wrapped up and we can go home to continue what we started, but before I can utter one syllable, McGee comes through the door, a computer base unit tucked under his arm. "Gonna start looking through Lieutenant Gillespie's hard drive now, Boss."
"How long?" Gibbs asks.
McGee sets down the CPU, shooting me a despairing look. "Uh… it could take a while. She was a programmer before she joined the navy, so–"
"Get started." As McGee obeys, Gibbs takes my arm, steering me away from the evidence box. "Abbs, I want the ballistics report on the Carey case."
Incredulously, I stare at him. "Isn't this a little more important? It's gonna take me an hour just to prioritise this stuff, let alone start DNA running–"
"The director wants it now." I at last catch on to his subterfuge, and let him nudge me into my office with a melodramatic sigh for McGee's benefit.
"Could you turn the music down, Abbs? I can't hear myself think in here!" McGee calls after us. I hit the button to close the glass door behind me, shutting out most of the noise from the CD player, and hear his muffled 'thank you' in response. When I glance back through the glass window, he is busy finding leads and cables to connect up the base unit to one of my monitors. He'll be busy for a while.
I turn to face Gibbs expectantly, and nearly melt into a puddle of mush on the floor at his expression – predatory and considering at the same time. Without speaking, he points to the door to the ballistics lab. I grab the Carey report from my desk and head over there, feeling his eyes on me every step of the way.
It's not really much more private in here – there's still a huge window in the wall – but McGee will have further to walk if he decides to interrupt us. I hesitate, wondering whether to close the door, but conclude that it'll look too suspicious if I do.
Gibbs sits on the edge of the table. "In the corner," he instructs softly.
I'm so not worrying about my workload any more. I do as he asks, standing in the corner opposite him, where I can't be seen by anyone looking through the window. I put the report on the workbench beside me and wait, trembling a little. What if we're caught?
Gibbs casts a glance out at McGee before speaking again. "Calm down. I'll only keep you here a few minutes," he tells me.
He could keep me here forever; I wouldn't care.
Gibbs gets up, closes the distance between us. Kisses me hard, dominating my mouth and making my entire body scream out with need. "Do you want to come, little tease?" he breathes in my ear, and I almost lose it then and there.
"Please, sir," I whisper, the words falling unplanned from my tongue.
He steps back, takes a seat on the table again, leaving me dazed and bewildered. "Then touch yourself," he murmurs – a quiet order, but an order nonetheless.
A shock of conflicting emotions shudders through me. Even as my pulse leaps and my knees grow weak, self-consciousness rears its head. "I…" I bite down on the rest of the sentence, knowing it's a lie. I can't. I know I can, and it would only take a matter of seconds, but McGee is less than fifty feet away…
"It's this way, or not at all," Gibbs tells me, breaking through my muddled thoughts.
Just thinking of being left like this is enough to strengthen my resolve. I don't relish the idea of redoing all my tests cause I was too distracted the first time around. "Yes, sir," I reply helplessly, and bask in the reward of his half-smile.
With a shaking hand, I slip a hand up and under my minidress, pushing my panties to one side to seek out my aching clit. At the first touch, I have to swallow a cry of pleasure, managing to turn it into a ragged gasp instead. I fall back against the wall as my caresses become more urgent, and I can feel myself beginning to tip over the edge…
"Go easy, little tease. Not yet."
With a low whimper of frustration, I slow down, letting the sensations fade to a bearable level. When I open my eyes and dare to chance a look at Gibbs, the sight of his erection pushing against his pants sends me rocketing out of control again as I imagine how good it would feel to have him inside me… "Sir, please, I can't take this!" I gasp.
For long, interminable seconds, he doesn't reply. By the time he speaks, I'm half-sobbing with frustration, hot and dishevelled and burning for release. "Go on, little tease. Let it all go."
One touch is all it takes. Trying hard not to scream Gibbs' name loud enough for everyone in the building to hear, I clutch the workbench next to me and let the orgasm overtake me, barely aware of my surroundings as all the tension floods from my muscles. Suddenly boneless, I slide down the wall to the floor, trying to get my breath back.
Gibbs crouches beside me, stroking my hair, and I rest my head against his knee gratefully. "Thank you, sir," I whisper shakily.
For a couple of minutes, we stay that way, calming down, regaining composure. Finally, Gibbs pulls me to my feet and kisses my forehead, pulling errant strands of hair back into place. I hand him the ballistics report, grinning. "It's all in there."
He takes it with a chuckle as I check for signs that McGee has noticed anything wrong. My music seems to have drowned out any noise I might have made, and he's tapping away on the keyboard, his brow furrowed in classic McGee confusion. Relieved, I take a step back out into my office, and am pulled up short by Gibbs' hand on my shoulder. Puzzled, I look up at him.
"From now on, your orgasms belong to me. You have them when and where I say you have them, and nowhere else. Clear?"
Resisting the urge to kneel at his feet in total submission, I swallow hard. "Clear, sir."
"Good girl." He gives me a swift kiss, mindful of McGee's line of sight. "And maybe one day soon, you'll wear my collar around that pretty neck of yours."
He moves past me out into the main lab, leaving me dumbstruck and speechless in the office. Collared to Gibbs? I can't think of anything I'd ever want more. A huge smile spreading over my face, I smooth down my dress and skip back out to McGee, turning to the huge piles of evidence with renewed enthusiasm.
"Gibbs must be stressed," McGee tells me without looking up from the computer. "He's more pissed off than usual, and he's left his coffee behind."
I follow his line of sight – next to the electron microscope is a cup of coffee. I pick it up, registering its temperature and knowing immediately that it wasn't left here by accident. "He won't want it," I reply nonchalantly. "It's cold."