Spoilers: The Good Samaritan, season 1
Summary: Tag to The Good Samaritan. When Sheriff Dupray gets a little too close to Gibbs in the Navy Yard's cafeteria, Abby decides that extreme measures are called for…
I've never seen a woman try to turn a sandwich in the NCIS cafeteria into a romantic dinner date before, but Sheriff Charlene 'Call-Me-Charlie' Dupray seems determined to force herself upon me, and without offending her I can do jack about it. Though I eat as quickly as I can, she takes tiny bites of her meal, drawing it out for as long as possible.
I make polite conversation, smiling and nodding where appropriate, but Charlie either doesn't read the signs or has decided to ignore them. Just as her foot brushes mine under the table, I hear a familiar voice across the room, and look over to see Abby walk in, offering a passing greeting to Gerald Jackson as he leaves.
She spots me, and a slow smile spreads across her face. Doubtless Tony and Kate have been gossiping about the situation, and she tilts her head a little to analyse Charlie. I narrow my eyes at her a little in warning, and her smile splits into a full-on grin as she heads for the vending machines.
Charlie notices my change of expression, and glances over her shoulder to find the source of it. Her brows shoot up when she locates Abby, and she jerks a thumb over her shoulder, leaning in toward me conspiratorially. "Takes all sorts, I guess."
"Our forensic scientist," I tell her, relieved to be off the topic of her childhood in Kansas.
"You're kiddin' me," she says, frowning. "She knows forensics?"
"'s what I said, at first," I reply, shrugging. "But she's good."
"Oh, she's very good," Abby calls, scooping a candy bar from the machine. "And, she can hear you."
As she meanders over to us, I perform the introductions. "Sheriff Charlie Dupray, meet Abby Sciuto."
"Good to meet you," Abby says, rounding the table and taking a seat… in my lap.
Trying to ignore the sensations that having her warm body pressed against mine evoke, I breathe into her ear, "What the hell, Abbs?"
"I'm rescuing you," she replies, her equally soft words sending tingles through my skin. "Work with me, here…"
I'm in uncharted waters, but I've always been able to improvise at a moment's notice. Slipping my arms around her waist, I pull her in tighter to my body, smiling up at her. "Good day?"
"It's getting better," she answers lightly, with the slightest quirk of her eyebrow. Before I can respond, she directs her next words toward the Sheriff. "So how'd you meet my boy?"
Charlie blinks dumbly at us, dismayed. If it wasn't for the fact that she's clearly interested in more than a cafeteria sandwich, I'd almost feel bad for her. "We're working a case together."
"Same one you brought the evidence down for earlier?" Abby asks me, though she knows damn well which case I'm working. When I nod, she turns back to Charlie, adjusting her position in my lap a little and giving an almost imperceptible gasp when I tighten my grip in response. "Hope you find the killer soon. Seriously hinky crime scene."
"You two known each other long?" Charlie asks, trying to act as though I don't have a strikingly attractive scientist nestled close to me.
"Coming up on five years," I answer, and Abby shoots me a delighted glance.
"You remember the date we met? That's so sweet!" Before I can anticipate her next move, she kisses me full on the mouth, her lips lingering for a couple of seconds longer than appropriate under the circumstances. My instincts override my common sense, and I can't stop myself from kissing back, enjoying the slight quiver that runs through her body in response.
"Abbs, you remember we talked about that 'polite company' thing?" I murmur when she draws back, and cast an apologetic look at Charlie, who's shifting uncomfortably in her seat.
"You know, I just remembered a lead I gotta follow up on," she says, pushing aside her half-eaten meal and standing up. "I'll see you back on the job. Good luck with those files."
"Appreciate the cooperation, Charlie," I tell her sincerely, and she nods, attempting a smile, before beating a fast retreat.
"Bye…" Abby calls after her, but the woman doesn't look around. We watch her leave the empty cafeteria before locking gazes again.
"Your boy?" I ask, trying to pull my emotions under control.
Abby shrugs, shifting in my lap with a casualness that almost makes me believe she's unaware of what she's doing to me right now. "You had that cornered-animal look. I was ridding you of the hunter."
"Could've burst into tears and told me you needed to talk, too," I point out, and she instantly begins to rise from my lap, her expression guarded.
"Next time I'll do that, then."
Impulsively grabbing her hips, I pull her back toward me. Overbalancing, she falls back into my lap with a gasp that's half surprise at losing her equilibrium, and half discovery at what her thigh brushes as she lands.
"You got rid of her. I guess thanks are in order," I growl into her ear, running a finger down her arm and watching a wave of gooseflesh rise in its wake.
Her eyes fall closed, and she opens them again with an effort, whispering, "God, Gibbs…"
There's no point in pretending I don't want her, not while she's sitting in my lap with her face only inches from mine. She doesn't even try to disentangle herself from my embrace, instead dropping her head onto my shoulder and pressing her lips to the side of my neck in a teasing kiss.
"You gonna keep that up?" I ask, breathing deeply to try and curb my more primal urges. Still, my traitorous brain feeds me images as she continues to trail kisses along my jaw. I could just spin her so that she straddles me, push that tiny skirt of hers aside and-
"Well, she might come back," Abby says, and it takes me a second to realise that she's talking about Sheriff Dupray. A moment later it ceases to matter, as she skims a hand across my erection with a wordless purr, and I bite back a curse at the intense sweep of need that results.
As much as I want to bend her backward over the table and fuck her, it's getting close to the time when the cafeteria workers return to begin preparing the evening meal. "Abbs… not here."
She ceases her teasing with a reluctant nod, getting to her feet and watching me follow suit. "My lab?"
"Too far." Hoping like hell that we won't run into anyone on the way, I take her hand and pull her out into the hall. There's a cafeteria storeroom, big enough to hide us if need be, a short way down, and the door's unlocked – thank god.
The door closes behind us, and Abby is kissing me before I've even turned to find her, her fingers in my hair and her hips pressed into mine. The darkness is absolute, and it crosses my mind that our first time shouldn't be like this – unable to watch each other or take our time, fucking against the wall of a storeroom as if this is just a mindless encounter that will never be repeated.
The thought disappears as my fingers, already under her shirt, unsnap her bra fastening, and the garment loosens enough that I can push it out of the way, kissing my way over her skin until I find a taut nipple.
Abby's breath escapes in a soft moan as I tease her with my tongue, then bite down gently. Amused, I draw back enough to breathe against her skin, "You know, keep that up and someone's gonna hear…"
She exhales shakily as I return to my ministrations. "I grew up in a house with two deaf parents. Do you think I'm used to being quiet?"
I revisit her lips, hard, imagining her writhing and moaning unrestrainedly beneath me. Her hands deftly work at my belt, and I slip my own fingers beneath her skirt, working her underwear down over her hips and rubbing an experimental finger between her thighs. I catch her clit at the end of the first stroke, and this time her moan is silent – more than a sigh, but controlled at the very edge of becoming vocal.
Her endeavours to free my aching cock have faltered, but as I continue, keeping my touches light, she claws back her sense of purpose and finishes with my pants. Her fingertips ghost up and down my length, somewhere between teasing and exploratory, and I whisper a curse, circling her clit a little harder. Her head falls back, and I cover her throat in kisses, enjoying her tiny gasps.
When she firmly takes me in hand and begins to give as much as she's getting, I fight the urge to just nail her to the wall without a further thought. "Abbs – wait… let me-"
Anticipating my next words, she shakes her head. "On the pill… if you trust I'm…" The rest of her sentence is lost in her gasp as my fingers hit her clit at an angle she seems to love. I know what she means, though: she trusts that I have a clean bill of health, and wants to forgo protection if I can trust she's healthy, too.
I've listened to her put down people who don't get themselves checked out a million times, while she's examining this specimen of organic material or that, and my mistrust of the fidelity of the women I tend to end up with sends me to the clinic on a regular basis, too. Without bothering to reply, I press Abby back against the wall and guide myself into her, unable to suppress a low growl as I adjust to the sensation.
Abby cries out, muffling the sound against my shoulder, and nuzzles my neck, tilting her hips to allow me in deeper. I grind her into the wall until I'm as deep as I can get, and then pause, wishing like hell that I could see her right now. She holds her breath, then lets it out in another silent cry when I make a second pass at her clit.
"Oh, god, Gibbs, don't tease," she gasps, arching against my fingers.
Suddenly, all I want to do is tease, and I let her feel my breath escape in a muted laugh as I keep still, pinning her with my body weight, and tap her clit with a fingertip in an irregular, unpredictable rhythm; fast, slow, hard, soft. She writhes against me, seeking more, her exhalations shaky and rapid. When she begins to whisper, at first I don't make out what she's saying. It's only after a few seconds that I hear her: "Gibbs, please, fuck me, please, please, please…"
There's no way in the world I can resist, especially not when I feel her contract around me, poised on the brink of orgasm. I draw back and start to take her, and feel her nails dig into my shoulders in response as she moves with me, and god, I can't remember the last time sex felt this good-
A distant laugh permeates the fog around my rational brain, followed by a completely out of context sentence. "Hang on – I'll just grab some more bread…"
Abby freezes at the same moment I do, and although it's too dark to see her expression, I'm pretty sure it mirrors my own. Thinking fast, I lift her, and she wraps her legs around my waist, allowing me to feel my way around a stack of boxes, putting them between us and the door. Sliding down the wall to kneel on the floor, I try to ignore the urge to take advantage of the new position we're placed in.
The door opens, and Abby buries her face in my neck, her shoulders shaking. She's laughing? For a second, I'm incredulous, but then I can't help but see the funny side, and I grit my teeth against the urge to join her, holding my breath.
I definitely won't be laughing if we're caught, though – maybe Abby could survive the telling and re-telling of the story around the Navy Yard, but people expect this kind of thing from her. I'm a different story, and it's that knowledge that allows me to swallow my mirth.
Light spills into the room from the corridor, and I hope like hell that the cafeteria employee won't decide to flick the light switch. Abby and I forget to breathe, not daring to look up and see if the woman has noticed us....