Author: Morgan72uk

Rating: M

Summary: When you are the Director, getting what you need can be - complicated.

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters, don't have any money - and I probably shouldn't be doing this

OK - I didn't mean to write this. I was going to write something angsty and sad and then this happened, and Elflordsmistress coaxed and pleaded and helped - and we have this - a fic about Jen who is feeling just a little needy! I can't believe I'm posting it - that sound you hear is my head hitting the keyboard - a lot.


It took her most of the day to place the feeling. That it had taken her so long to work it out was a devastating indictment of her life and didn't say much for her investigative skills either.

She should have known when a conversation with a particularly annoying Deputy Director from Homeland Security escalated far too quickly into threats and was only concluded (in her favour) when she pulled rank. She definitely should have realised when she snapped at Cynthia for doing nothing more than asking her if she would be working as late as usual – and whether she wanted dinner to be ordered in.

But actually it took the sudden flush and the tell-tale tightening for her stomach at the sight of one Leroy Jethro Gibbs to recognise what the problem was and to come to the reluctant conclusion that she needed to have sex – soon.

Having diagnosed the problem she did give some thought to the solution – considering her options with care, because it was a lot more complicated these days. She couldn't just go to a bar and find a warm and willing body for the night.

There were men – but that was complicated as well. Neither the Senator nor the neurologist was interested in a no strings relationship and what they wanted from her, she doubted her ability to give. She liked them both too much to use them to satisfy her needs and she was experienced enough to know that even if they agreed one or other of them might not escape such an encounter unscathed.

Briefly she considered a few other options – men she was fairly sure wouldn't turn down a 'no strings' encounter with her. She smiled, just for a moment, thinking of that serial player Tony DiNozzo – certain that if she put her mind to it she could seduce him, equally certain that doing so would be a spectacularly bad idea.

Reluctantly she conceded her only option was to go home early to a glass of wine, a hot bath and deal with the matter herself. It was a slightly depressing realisation.

Even getting away early was complicated – though it was a Friday evening and there was nothing important or urgent that demanded her attention. It was reports and paperwork that kept her at her desk to 7pm and then, feeling guilty for being so abrupt earlier she spent a little time talking to Cynthia – before sending her off to get ready for a date she was failing to hide her excitement and anticipation about. The knowledge that her assistant had a more interesting social life than she did really hadn't helped her mood.

Getting dressed up and hitting the nearest bar seemed like a good idea again, for a moment or so – even if it would give her security detail a coronary. But, then she thought about gossip, pictures and the impact on her reputation and ruthlessly squashed the impulse.

Briefly she thought about a time when her life had been much less public and work and sex had been inextricably linked. She remembered operations with Jethro, where the sexual tension between them had been off the scale. They'd frequently denied themselves intimacy until the mission was over and then had disappeared for hours, and sometimes days, to the nearest hotel to relieve the pressure.

She sighed; this round of reminiscence wasn't helping.

He wasn't worried – worry was clearly unnecessary since he was sure she was capable of looking after herself. It was more that arriving at her office to find her gone for the evening at just past seven in the evening was – unsettling. He couldn't remember the last time she'd left so early.

He didn't like to think about why she might have left early on a Friday evening – since it screamed 'date'. He wasn't aware that she was seeing anyone at the moment –actually he was fairly sure that she wasn't. Just a couple months ago their conversation in her hallway had been full of nuance and all too familiar emotions. Then he hadn't been certain that she was really offering what she seemed to be – and even if he'd read her right, Hollis had only just left and he wasn't ready to jump into something that could only ever be complicated. It was perfectly possible that he'd missed his chance and in the intervening period she'd met someone esle and managed to slide it under the radar thus far.

He told himself that the files were urgent, needed her signature – though it wasn't quite true. He told himself that all the way over to her house and kept on telling himself that until she opened her front door and he suddenly lost the ability to think at all.

The robe she was wearing was thin and silky and barely came down to her knees. Her hair was in a loose bun, tendrils escaping and falling around her face, caressing skin that looked flushed. The charitable interpretation was that he'd got her out of the bath – but that wasn't what he thought he'd interrupted her in the middle of.

He'd seen that look in her eyes before – knew what she'd been doing and hoped the guy, whoever he was, appreciated just how lucky he'd got. Which didn't mean he wasn't jealous; seeing that look in her eyes, the way she leaned against the door watching him, the robe perilously close to falling open at the front. Suddenly his clothing was a lot more restrictive.

"I come at a bad time?"

"What do you want Jethro?" She hadn't budged, certainly didn't appear to be planning to let him in – enforcing his conclusion that he'd interrupted her in an intimate moment. He gritted his teeth and tried not to run through a list of men he didn't like, who she might be sleeping with.

"Reports," he held them up and watched an elegant eyebrow arch.

"I'm sure they could have waited until tomorrow."

"I thought some of them might be urgent – didn't think you'd mind my dropping them by. Am I interrupting something?"

"No, I was just taking a bath." His eyes drifted over her body, the robe left very little to the imagination – and he didn't need to imagine anyway. He'd be a liar if he claimed that she wasn't a feature in his fantasies – and seeing her like this, flushed, nearly naked and looking like she'd just come was making it very hard, for him not to fantasise.

"If you've quite finished Agent Gibbs?" He looked up and met her eyes – refusing to be embarrassed by being caught quite blatantly staring at her.

"You don't look as though you just got out of the bath."

"The water's still running." He smirked, dragging his eyes off the tantalising glimpse of flesh where the robe tied for long enough to see her tell – the twitch of her eye.

"You bathing alone?"

"That's none of your business…" she pushed the door closed but he was quicker, grasping her wrist. He looked at her again – a new idea occurring to him, one that made him almost dizzy with lust.

"Something you needed a hand with Director?"

"Go to hell," she hissed, the robe giving just a little more as she twisted out of his grip. If she was on her own and she hadn't been in the bath then what he suspected she had been doing was turning him on – a lot.

"I'm offering to scrub your back," he said, his voice rough with arousal.

"A threesome?" she shot back, "you used to be a lot more conservative Jethro – I didn't think you'd want to share."

But he was pretty sure he wasn't going to have to. And the dig about him being conservative just added fuel to the fire. Because a decade ago in Europe she'd been by far more adventurous than he and the fact that he'd been more open to all sorts of things afterwards was her fault. It wasn't something he had any intention of telling her and at that precise moment he was so damn aroused he might actually have considered sharing her. But he didn't think that was going to be necessary.

She would have said that by the time he interrupted her the 'problem' had been solved. But, the moment she'd seen him, the moment he looked at her with that hungry expression it became apparent that whatever she'd done had barely taken the edge off.

She let her gaze rake his body, her knees almost buckling at seeing how aroused he was. The knowledge that she had done this to him sizzled through her, fuelling the need she'd been fighting all day and she surrendered to it – though she knew it wasn't the wise or the responsible thing to do.

"Bedroom – now!"

"Are you sure?" his voice was full of challenge and she knew her dig about his being conservative had stung. The truth was the only thing she was sure about was that she needed him, urgently – and she didn't care about where. "Whatever you've been doing just isn't quite hitting the spot – is it?" He murmured.

"I was doing just fine – until you interrupted."

"I could leave."

"Really?" Her gaze was pointed – because he was just as turned on by this as she was, just as desperate to see it through. She pulled her wrist out of his grasp and looking up met his eyes, holding his gaze as she slipped her hand into the neck of the robe, fingers trailing over her sensitised skin. His expression was avid, watching her every move. "Is this what you want Jethro?" And before he could even find the words to rely she pulled at the tie of the robe, letting it flutter open, shrugging out of it, leaving it on the ground in a pool of silk as she turned and walked back upstairs. Completely naked. "Want to watch?" She asked over her shoulder.

She winced a little as she slid out of bed – but the momentary discomfort was forgotten when she saw her expression in the bathroom mirror. She looked – very satisfied and there was no doubt she was feeling a lot more relaxed. She glanced back over her shoulder; her bed was a tangled mess of pillows and sheets and amidst all that chaos Leroy Jethro Gibbs was the sleeping – pretty much dead to the world. She'd worn him out. It was a damn good feeling.

The End