A/N: Self-Explanatory; a series of drabbles/oneshots centered around different flavors.


Blue Raspberry

She was pissed. Her shoulders were rigid; her voice loud, and her emerald eyes were bright and blazing. She was talking, fast and angry, one long leg crossed over the other as she vented her frustration to him—but he had stopped listening ages ago.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs stood next to his boat, sander in hand, watching her with darkened cobalt eyes. She didn't notice the look in his eye, hadn't realized he wasn't listening, and it was a damn good thing because he was content to just watch her eat that Popsicle.

He didn't even know where it came from. He sure as hell didn't have them in the house—he was unaware she even liked popsicles. As he watched her mouth, blatantly and shamelessly sexualizing her every move, he chalked the Popsicle up to summer cravings and the unbearable heat that had swept over D.C. lately.

The sight of her sitting there in her pristine business attire sucking on that Popsicle was just so…Playboy.

He couldn't help but fantasize...

"You're not even listening to me!" she snapped suddenly, breaking off.

His words slammed into each other in his throat as he raised his eyes away from her slightly blue lips. She held the Popsicle away from her mouth, giving him an expectant look, her shoulders relaxed slightly.

"How am I supposed to…" he answered slightly hoarsely, gesturing at the frozen treat.

Jenny glanced at it with a lifted eyebrow and seemed to get his meaning.

"Oh," she said non-chalantly. "Sorry,"

Jenny stood up slowly and walked towards him, her heels clicking on the cement. She tilted her head at him seductively, a wicked smile pulling at her mouth. She held the Popsicle up.

"Did you want some? It's Blue Raspberry."

She put it back in her mouth, teasing him mercilessly.

"Jen," he warned, reaching for her.

Agonizingly slowly, she removed the Popsicle from her mouth. Her eyes flickered impishly and she leaned forward and pulled his head towards her, running her tongue over his bottom lip, kissing him slowly until he could taste the sour-sweet syrup. His hands tightened at her hips and he pulled her closer.

Snickering slightly, she pulled back a fraction of an inch and licked the Popsicle, the look in her eye far too scandalous and sultry to be safe to play with.

"You, Jethro," she said lightly, biting off the top of the Popsicle and ignoring the blue juice that ran over her mouth, "have a dirty mind."

Well he sure as hell wasn't going to think of politics and business while she oh-so-innocently deep throated a Popsicle.

He couldn't take his eyes off her sinful, blue-stained mouth. She smirked, her small hand reaching behind his head to hold his head back away from her, making him watch. His stomach clenched and she shifted against him, raising her eyebrow knowingly, her hand falling down over his chest to the waistband of his pants.

"God, Jethro, it's so easy to get you going," she purred, holding up the empty Popsicle stick up to him and dropping it unceremoniously onto the basement floor.

She pressed her lips to his again and he fisted a hand in her crimson hair, forcing his tongue into her mouth hungrily. Her hands fluttered at his belt and she jerked his t-shirt upwards, extracting herself from his forceful kiss long enough to remove his shirt. With a promising look, she dragged her nails down his chest until her fingers found the clasp of his belt again and she worked it loose.

He tilted her head back by the ends of her hair, kissing her roughly, suddenly and inexplicably addicted to Blue Raspberry. She sighed and he pulled her in tighter; her hands expertly unfastened his jeans and she shimmied them down, snaking her hands back up his abdomen and pushing his shoulders back against the boat frame, squeezing gently on his bicep to get him to release her hair.

She flicked her tongue over his lips, kissed along his jaw and down his neck. She pressed open-mouth kisses down his chest, her hands slipping down his arms. She tugged his boxers down, and he realized what she was doing five seconds before she did it.

"Christ Jen," he groaned.

She smirked at him with wicked eyes before she went down and his head hit the wooden frame behind him. He laced his hands into her red curls and pulled hard as her sinful stained mouth rendered all intelligent thought mushy and leaves him with nothing but the taste of Blue Raspberry in his watering mouth.


Yes. I realize I'm a naughty person.