by B. Cavis

This story is a sequel to Substitution

by B. Cavis

For a lifetime, neither one of them moves. Not because they don’t want to, or because their bodies aren’t responding to their commands anymore. Gibbs is in full control of his skin and all that lies underneath it, and if he started to move, Kate would too to keep some semblance of his respect for her intact. If he showed signs that he found the sight of her body repulsive or unattractive, or just disgusting enough to motivate him to leave, she would gather up the tatters of her pride and grab the nearest towel, spouting apologies.

But he doesn’t. And she doesn’t. They can’t move.

They can’t move, because the only place to move is towards each other, and some annoyingly right part of both of their brains is screaming that this is a bad idea. If he moves, he is going to throw himself into the bathtub with her, mouth seeking hers, hands on her breasts as he takes everything she has to offer him. If she moves, she is going to invite him in with splayed legs and parted lips.

Which isn’t an option right now. It can’t be an option right now.

A naked, masturbating Kate was not something he thought he’d ever get to see. It was always just too far, too out there to be believed with a whole heart. He never actually thought he’d ever… be here.

And here he is. And his famed strength in battle, his famed ability to resist all sinful, career ending temptations laid at his feet…has failed him.

Gibbs finds his voice hiding somewhere deep down in his stomach and pulls it out to fit it back over his teeth and mouth. It cuts into his lips and makes him bleed words to fill to silence that has overcome them both.

“I, uh,” he searches for some way of not sounding like an idiot and fails. When did he give this woman the power to reduce him to speechless pants of air and desperately needy eyes? Did he give it to her at all, or did she simply take it from somewhere in his chest, tearing through cartilage, bone, and muscle to get at his heart and remove the scars that kept him in check when around her?

Did Caitlin Todd somehow insert her own form of control into his blood when he wasn’t looking?

“I called your phone,” he continues finally, “and, uh, you didn’t answer.” His eyes are focused on the base of the porcelain white tub and how it contrasts with the black tiles that litter the floor. He can see her out of his peripheral vision. Her fingers haven’t been removed from her own body yet-- he wonders if she even realizes that she is still technically fucking herself, and that she is doing so in her boss’s presence.

Probably not.

But he can always hope so.

“I called your cell too,” he offers, “and then I knocked at the door and you didn’t answer. I called your name, and you didn’t answer. I, um, I thought you had gotten h-hurt or something.”

Oh God he is pathetic. He is so pathetic and he is weak and he is going to fuck her before this afternoon is through if he doesn’t play this exactly right. If he doesn’t minipulate the situation to get exactly the reaction he wants, she is going to be on the receiving end of his cock and his fingers and his touch before the hour is out. If he doesn’t play this right, he is going to make her scream and beg and thrash on her bed, and then nothing is ever going to be the same and nothing is ever going to be safe again.

He hates safe.

Kate swallows, and he hears it from the doorway. She is trying not to feel like she has just exposed her naked body to the man she wants more than any other; like she has not just made an offer in the ancient game of men and women that she hasn’t played in a few weeks too many. She isn’t doing too well, all things considers. She can’t get over the way he stuttered and how his words tripped in their clumsy haste to get out of his mouth.

Does he want her? Or is this just how men who are confronted with naked, masturbating women in bathtubs act? She doesn’t have enough experience in either category-- Gibbs or the minds of men-- to decide.

“Oh,” she whispers, and his fists clench at his sides. “I, uh, guess I scared you. I’m sorry, um, about that Gibbs. She can’t look away from those hands, knuckles topped with white. The violence they promise is somehow… captivating. Like watching a flame dance and race down a match-- you know it’s dangerous, but somehow you can’t bring yourself to put it out until you absolutely have to.

She tries to figure out why she has suddenly gotten so poetic when dealing with Gibbs, and swallows. Best not to question it. Best not to think about it at all.

“I, um, just need a few minutes to get ready for the stakeout. If y-”

“The stakeout was cancelled,” he grunts. His jaw is clenched tightly in his mouth. He is struggling for control and he is struggling for sanity, and he is missing the brass ring on both of them by miles. His eyes fight to remain open. To remain open is to slowly undo him, but to close them would be to block her image out, and he can’t do that. “I tried calling,” he says again. “The apartment and your cell. No answer. We, um, caught the guy trying to hide the weapon in the routine surveillance. He’s in a holding cell at Norfolk now.” His breath comes out in one long whoosh of need and desire. “You didn’t answer your phones,” he whispers, searching for justification once more. “You…”

His voice fails him, and he swallows down everything that he is not allowed to be feeling right now, only to have it come back up and fill his mouth. He is vomiting emotion.

The desire hits him, thick and hard, and it washes over his mind and tongue with no hesitation. Of course she didn’t answer her phone, the voice purrs softly, and he can feel his chances of leaving here without her nails scratching red badges of “I fucked Caitlin Todd” honor diminishing as he stands there.

He feels like a dirty, horny old man lusting after a young school girl as she flounces by his front porch in knee socks and a skirt. This is wrong on so many moral levels-- he is three times married, he is three times divorced, he is old enough to be her… well, not her father, but still, pretty old. His hair is gray and hers is dark brown, and those colors made all of the difference.

But the voice that inserts itself into his head and fills his skull with words and images doesn’t understand perversion, and it doesn’t care about school girls and dirty old men. What it cares about it the sight of all of that perfect, smooth, naked skin. What it cares about it the anticipation of what her breasts will taste like and what her body will do when he touches it in all of those places whose images he jerks off to in the shower. It cares about what kind of noises she will make when he takes her and throws her knees up around her ears, mouth on her neck, as he fucks her into oblivion and unconsciousness.

She’s inviting it, after all.

The voice is smirking inside his head. Well, that’s why she couldn’t answer the phone. She was in the tub. Naked. Wet. Juicy and masturbating. Running her wet hands over her breasts and letting the water lick at her flesh. Pinching her nipples and moaning. Gasping for her imaginary lover to fuck her hard and fast, while her fingers played a poor substitute shoved inside of her tight, wet, hot little puss-

“Uh, Gibbs?” she asks in a soft, meek voice. His silence is making her nervous, and since he’s not looking at her as far as she can tell, there is no real reason for him to still be looming in the doorway and making her shiver with his very presence. “Would you, um, give me a moment?”

She wants him to leave, he thinks to himself. She wants to get dressed in her clothes and her armor, and face me on equal footing again. She wants to pretend that this never happened; that I never saw her naked, and that she never sat in hot water with her fingers up inside of her body, with me in the doorway.

She wants to pretend.

Well fuck pretending.

“No,” he says, and shoves his hands in his jacket pockets, eyes finally coming up to meet her gaze. He isn’t afraid of this anymore. He isn’t going to fight this anymore.

Losing battles are best fought briefly, in his experience.

Her face is red from the heat of the bath, flushed and sweating. Her fingers are still paralyzed and dead between her thighs. He thinks that maybe she has forgotten all about them there, and the idea excites the romantic side of him. She is comfortable in my presence, he thinks. She is comfortable with her body and me being in the same place at the same time.

That is a good sign if ever he saw one.

The two-letter word he filled the room with settles over her skin, and her eyes widen a little in something akin to fear. Is she afraid of him? He runs her reactions over a mind honed by years of experience. Shallow breathing, wide eyes, flushed cheeks, stumbling words…

If he’s not mistaken, he is turning Caitlin Todd on.

She swallows. “‘No’?”


Her breasts are rising and falling with each breath drawn and released, and every time her chest expands, it breaks through the steaming liquid glass surface of the bathwater. He watches the ripples she causes, and feels a strange emotion building inside of his chest and pressing against his stomach and heart. Beautiful. Lush. All his.

“Stand up, Katie.” His jaw is set and his eyes are on hers now. She can feel her skin tingling, like she has just been tossed from the heat of the bath into the chill of the snow. Her nerve endings are coming to life to face the new sensation.

Does he mean what she think he means? Does he mean… that he wants to see her?

Is this the start of some fated personal relationship? Or the end of her professional relationship?

“I said stand up,” he growls, and there is a threat in his voice that makes her nipples tighten and firm. Something in his tone is old, ancient and running back through time. And something in her, some prehistoric gene combination that survived the modern century and it’s policy of male and female equality, knows that voice and knows what it means. Knows that he is bigger and knows that he is male and knows that if she does something he doesn’t like, he can make her life miserable.

And knows that if she does something he does like, he can make her more alive than she has ever been before.

Something in her remembers, because before she knows what she is doing, her hand is on the safety bar on the wall for support, her feet are planted, and she stands.

The water runs down her body in a thick river with skin undertones, splashing back into the tub and replacing what she took out. Her body is undistorted by the water, and her skin is darker when seen in the air. Her hair is thick and heavy, and it coats her shoulders with a fragrant shawl. She shivers in the air and in his gaze, and her nipples harden even more as her body responds to the new stimuli.

As her body responds to him and his presence.

He watches her with dark eyes and says nothing to reassure the nervous edge in her eyes. She doesn’t know what is going to happen next-- it’s putting her on edge and forcing different, false scenarios to run through her head. She wants him to tell her what he’s going to do next; to make her feel better.

But he is not here to make her feel better, he tell himself. She is here to make him feel better, and if she knows what’s good for her and her little clit, she’ll do it with skill and all of the obedience he requires from her.

Some part of him knows this is destructive. The rest of him doesn’t give a flying fuck.

He takes a moment to examine her, eyes taking her in clinically. Her skin is pink from the heat of the water, and her fingers are wrinkled. Her nails have gone soft and white, harmless and clean, and he wonders how long he’ll have to keep her on edge to give them time to sufficiently harden up and leave marks on his back. Her legs are smooth and recently shaved, and her pubic hair is…

….Uh, God…

“Gibbs,” she breathes, her voice shaking slightly. “W-What are you doing?”

He drags his eyes up from her dark curls, trailing over her stomach, her breasts (which thrust out at him under his gaze), her shoulders and throat. Her lips are parted by the time he gets up to her face-- she can hear the silent claim of Mine that he tossed over her with his eyes, and it excites her more than she thought it would. More than she thought it could.

She wants this, and she wants him, and fuck professional relationships; they are never as much fun as the personal ones.

“Get out of the tub and come here,” he commands in a deceptively soft voice. It’s covered in velvet, but it’s still steel and it is so full of authority that she is out of the tub before she has time to realize what she is doing. She stands, dripping and wet on the bathmat for a moment, before putting one foot in front of the other and making her way towards him. She knows what she’s doing now. Doesn’t mean she has control of it.

She can’t control anything here, in this room. And she has a feeling that that is exactly what he is here to do for her.

Shaky legs take her across the tiny bathroom, white feet on black tile. She goes slowly, so she doesn’t slip on the slick floor, and the anticipation builds with every second that ticks by. Her skin is caught up in his electrical field, shocks and lighting bolts, and every hair on her body is standing on ends.

He is the picture of calm. He always is, always has been, but more so now that he is in absolutely control of the situation. Having the boost of confidence that comes from having two guns and a knife on your person is one thing. The overwhelming rush of chemicals and emotions that are born in the bloodstream when there is a naked woman following your commands with complete obedience is quite another. Out of the two, Gibbs likes this one more. He doesn’t release her eyes, and he doesn’t let her drop his.

Good girl, she reads in that gaze, and is ridiculously pleased that he thinks so.

She takes the final, gut wrenching step, and stands in the wash of his body heat, nipples scant centimeters from his chest. He looks down into her face, their height difference blatant now. She feels tiny and feminine, and it’s a surprisingly good feeling.

Kinky bitch, her fantasy self accuses, and she nods eagerly back at her.

Yup, that’s me. But this kinky bitch has an even kinkier man by her side.

“You want to know what I’m doing, Katie?” The sweetness in his voice covers the hard, firm core of control and dominance. She hears it, knows what it is, and can’t help but take the bait along with the hook. She nods.


His eyes flash. “If you want something, Katie, voice it.”

“Yes,” she amends quickly, slipping into the role she has played before with men who weren’t even half as skilled as Gibbs at this game.

He smirks for a brief second. Following orders already. Oh Katie girl, he thinks darkly, I am going to have so much fun with you.

His hands come out of his pockets. She has always loved those hands. Worn from years of use and firm from years of experience. When she first started wanting him and before he started wanting her, back when he used to touch her without thinking anything of it, she would imagine how those hands would feel on her skin. How they would know exactly how to handle her-- with just the right mix of force and tenderness.

She has brought herself to more than one screaming orgasm with fantasies of what he is capable with those hands.

She doesn’t need fantasies anymore.

One hand presses against the soft skin at the small of her back, sand paper on silk, and she gaps at the rough burn he ignites in her flesh. He pulls her closer to him, pressing her body firmly against his own and holding her there. She can feel the bulge she somehow missed earlier pressed against her lower abdomen.

He feels… like inevitability and pleasure.

The other hand tangles in her wet hair, wrapping it around his fist and giving a firm pull. She raggedly gasps for breath, the world dancing, as her throat is exposed and her face is tilted up towards him. The hand presses against the back of her head to offer some support, but more to keep her in place for whatever he might want to do next.

His breath comes hot and firm against her face, spilling into her mouth, and she looks up at him with primal desperation in her eyes. He lowers his lips, until they are just looming above hers, and waits for just a second more than she can possibly bear.

“Gibbs,” she gasps, pleading.

“I am here, Katie, to give you exactly what you want,” he rumbles, and the sound of his voice is enough to undo another bit of her. “I am here to give this tight young body of yours exactly what it is so obviously begging for.” The hand on her lower back is heavy and strong. “And you are here to do exactly what I tell you to do.”

His mouth tastes like rich coffee and a Tic Tac he sucked an hour ago, but underneath it is the taste of Gibbs. Male, full, and thick; like melted steel and motor oil. His five o’clock shadow rubs her cheeks red, and she doesn’t care. His tongue presses wet and slick against hers, and she is his to own and move and God why on Earth didn’t she just take him into the bathroom on Air Force One and have him initiate her into the most prestigious Mile High Club in the world?

Her body responds to him like he is the only man who has ever touched her. She can feel her pussy getting wet with something other than bath water, and when the hand on the small of her back slips down to grab her ass and squeeze, she moans.

He pulls back, roughly detaching himself from her mouth with a pull and bite on her lower lip. She struggles for breath, eyes half open, hands grasping at his shoulders for… something only he can give her.

Gibbs just does that little upturn of his lips that he is so well known and feared for. She shakes, subtly, and she is so incredibly wet in such a short amount of time that he must have a cheater’s guide to her body to make it happen like this.

Does he know her better than she knows herself?

“This is your one and only chance to stop me,” he says, and there is chivalry in the hard dominating man before her. She swallows. “If you don’t say ‘no’ right now, I won’t listen to it coming out of your mouth for the rest of the night. If you can’t handle that, tell me right now, and we can stop.”

She looks at him, feeling the submissive mindset that she hasn’t put on in years nipping at her heels, and all of the shame that her professional, business wearing suit self would feel at being in this position flows out of her. She licks her lips, and he follows the progression of her tongue on the bruised flesh. “Have you done this before?” she asks calmly, and he looks at her like she just sprouted horns and told him she was running off with a goat herder from Scotland. “Played this game before?”

His jaw ticks. “Not in a long time,” he admits quietly.

There’s a torn part of him right now that is trying to edge in on the role he has taken tonight. Part of him has those dreams, those evil, sinful dreams in his head. Those dreams that, if what she’s saying is any indication, weren’t nearly as farfetched as he had believed. Those dreams that might not have been his libido getting out of control, but might have actually been his body picking up on the signs his mind denied.

Kate has done this before. Kate has subbed before. Kate is willing to do so now.

But, of course, with that up side must come a down. And the idea that she has done this sort of thing before-- that she has had the experience she is about to have with him with anyone else is making his teeth itch. Was she doing this with her fuck toy in security? Was she active when he first met her?

The thought bites at him. But her eyes lick the pain away, and he focuses in on the look in her eyes that speaks to every male thing in him.

“Then we’re even.” She runs her fingers over his collarbone gently. “I have more endurance in me than you give me credit for. And when I want something this badly,” she smiles, feral and more wild than he ever would have given her credit for. “I don’t say ‘no’. I trust you.”

She presses a kiss to his wrist, turning her head in his palm, and breathing deeply. “I’m offering you control.”

“And I’m taking it,” he growls, jerking her head back and biting her throat just high enough for it to be seen over her shirt collar. She moans and her fingers tangle in his hair. He hisses against her throat, voice rough and cruel. “Did I say you could try and guide me?”

And she’s there, in the place she needs to be, because she doesn’t protest, she lowers her eyes. “No sir. I’m sorry.”

“Hands on my shoulders, Pet. Move them, and I’ll make you regret it.”

Her grip comes on his shoulders once more, and he waits for just a moment to test her resolve. She doesn’t move and she doesn’t shift. She stays exactly where he wants her.

Good girl.

He sucks the curve of her jaw, teeth biting gently on the skin he is tasting for the first time. She smells like shampoo and lavender bath oil, and the heat of her skin releases both smells when he gets close to he pulse points. Her nails grip him through his worn canvas jacket as he bites down on the soft skin under her jaw bone, feeling her heartbeat rush in his mouth and fill his stomach. She rubs her thighs together-- he can smell her pussy leaking onto her skin.

“You want me, Pet?” he asks as his teeth rake over the cords of her throat threateningly. “Huh?”

“Yes sir,” she breathes, her voice reminiscent of one who was kicked in the stomach. He smirks.

“I thought so,” he purrs.

She stumbles as he releases her hair and jerks his mouth away from her throat, and he holds her steady with the hand on her ass. Her hands are pitifully weak against the bulk of his shoulders. “It’s cold in here, isn’t it?” He runs his fingers down her throat, stroking the marks he made, and she shivers from something other than temperature. “You’re naked and wet, and I’m making you stand in the cold.” He sounds remorseful. She knows he’s not. “Somewhere warmer would be… more comfortable, wouldn’t it, Pet?”

“Yes sir.”

“Hm. Yes.” He releases her suddenly, and the cold washes over her. She shudders, teeth chattering, and he strokes the back of his hand over her throat. “Go into the bedroom, Pet. I’ll be in in a moment.”

He watches her ass as she walks away, swallowing and taking a deep breath. It’s not often that he gets exactly what he wants and discovers it is more than he ever could have hoped for. He intends on making this a memorable experience, a memorable night, just in case it turns out to be a dream and he really does wake up tomorrow morning to find her gone.

He pulls the plug on the bathtub and wipes up the water she spilled with a towel. It occurs to him that he has a naked woman waiting for him to command her in the bedroom, and he is cleaning up a mess, and he laughs briefly to himself as he hangs the towel up and turns the lights off. No one will ever call him normal.

Kate is waiting in the bedroom, eyes down turned, hands linked at the small of her back as she stands by her dresser. He pulls his jacket off and throws it into the corner, eyes roaming over her. She doesn’t move.

He unbuckles his belt and drops it to the floor, and sees her shiver at the sound of the leather slapping together. He files it away for further use. Did the older, devastatingly handsome priest at her Catholic school spank her with his hand? His belt? Or did he just make her lie over his lap as he stroked her cotton clad, full ass with a ruler?

Oh, that has some definite possibilities.

His shirt is unbuttoned slowly because he loves making her wait, and his pants are undone quickly because he can’t wait. He stands in his black boxers and nothing else, and knows that the temptation to raise her eyes is killing her, and knows that she won’t let herself actually do it.

He’s patient. The anticipation gets everybody in the end.

“You look so nice just standing there,” he purrs, sitting down on the bed and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his thighs. She stands in profile, head high, eyes down cast, back straight. Someone trained her well. “I bet it took you a good while to learn that, did it?”

“No sir, I learned it quickly.”

“No? You got it on the first try? Hm. Well I suppose that’s just like you, isn’t it, Pet? You do love to please. You’re driven to do it. I guess all he had to do was tell you how to stand, and you never ever forgot, did you?”

“No sir, I didn’t.”

“Good girl. You look so pretty like that. Like you’re just waiting for someone to come along and fuck you into responsiveness. To put all thoughts of perfect posture out of your head.” He watches her breathing as a monitor of her emotions. She’s struggling for air, but not enough for him to be able to hear her dragging oxygen into her lungs. She’s quiet and still, but underneath her skin, her perfection is burning to cinders. “I bet that’s what you want me to do right now, isn’t it? Huh? Do you want me to fuck you until you can’t think of anything but the feel of me in your sweet little pussy, driving you out of your mind?”

“Yes sir,” she whimpers, and her hands clench tighter at the small of her back. He smirks.

“Hmmm, I thought so.” He straightens up and lays his palms on his thighs calmly. “Come over here, Pet.”

His brain throbs at seeing her right between his legs, the way he’d dreamed she would be. His hand comes out to touch her stomach, right below her belly button, and she holds herself perfectly still as he sets his starting point on her body, learning the texture and temperature of her skin quickly. “You are absolutely stunning,” he tells her honestly, and she smiles at the compliment, open and happy.

“Thank you, sir.”

“I think I might just have to keep you naked for the rest of your life,” he continues, seriously. “I’m not kidding, Pet. I might have to tie you to my bed as something warm and wet and wanting to come home to at night.” His hand drips down the curve of her stomach, edging closer and closer to her curls. He hears her part her lips to try and increase her air intake, and congratulates himself.

Getting warmer.

“I’d take your hands and bind them to my headboard,” he murmurs. “And I’d fuck you every night until you sobbed and screamed for me. Thighs apart.” She spreads her legs obediently. “Good girl. And in the morning, when I had to leave, I’d drag you kicking and screaming to the brink of climax, and then leave you there.” He runs his hands over her inner thighs, warming already too hot skin, before teasingly running up towards where she wants him the most. “I’d take the vibrator in your night table that you think I don’t know about-” she flushes pink, before remembering that she doesn’t have the right to feel embarrassed about anything, and swallowing her shame down “-and I’d stick it up inside of you, high as it would go, and leave you there. All. Day. Long.”

Two fingers part her open, and he breathes her in deeply as she shivers and gasps, eyes fighting the urge to squeeze shut. She is dripping over his fingers, and biting her lower lip to keep from thrusting her hips towards him and begging for everything she never thought he’d want to give her.

He brings his face close to her, examining every part of her pussy with a detachment she can’t hold on to under his hands. His nose takes her in with every inhale, and he knows her scent now and forever. “I could keep you here right now,” he argues quietly, “on the edge for the rest of the night, holding you open to the air and letting it fuck you while all you really want is for me to plop you down in my lap, isn’t it?” He nods. “You want to be fucked more than anything else in the world. Your body is screaming for it any way I’m willing to give it to you. You’d take me up your ass tonight if I wanted it, and you’d love it because you just want something inside of you, isn’t that right? Pet?”

She is whimpering under her breath now. “Y-yesssir…”

He nods thoughtfully. “Well, that’s just fine with me, Pet, because I want you to get fucked just as badly as you do.” And she sobs in relief at the words, because they offer some kind of promise that she will get what she needs tonight before her body explodes. “But on my terms.” And he pulls his fingers away.

She cries out, moving to try and follow him, and a stinging slap comes down on her ass, hard enough to make her stop, but not hard enough to give her either release or eliminate her need. The pain mixes with pleasure and all of it feels so incredibly good.

“Don’t be a brat, Pet,” he warns. “Or I’ll have to see just what I can do with you and my belt, and it won’t be pleasant.”

She stills. She’s felt that kind of pain before-- when it’s wielded by the right hands, it can be excruciating or exhilarating. She has a feeling this man has the right hands.

“Now, get up on the bed, arms folded with your head on top, up on your knees. In the middle.”

She pulls away the trap of his legs and climbs up on the side of the bed. His hand catches her bottom in another quick slap, less painful this time, and she moves faster.

She gets into the position he wants her in, ass in the air, and she feels him perusing her skin and the options available to him right now. This position is one of extreme, forced openness. There is no part of herself that she could hide when she is offering him her sore, heated ass and her wet, hot pussy on one side, with her tight mouth on the other.

He could fuck her however he wanted to right now. The thought appeals to them both.

“I’m going to give you a gift, Pet, in honor of you being oh so very good for me tonight, the first night I own you.”

“Thank you sir.”

“I’m going to let you decide where I fuck you tonight.” His hand wipes the sweat away from her back, though she has no idea where he is standing that he was able to do that without indenting the bed. “I could either do your ass,” and his hand squeezes the first cheek he can grab. “Your wonderful, oh so tight little ass. Do you have any idea how long I have wanted to fuck your ass? I would see you in your pants suits and skirts, with this openly on display. I have wanted to throw you over a desk and fuck you up your ass until you begged for release for years, Pet.” He grinds his teeth to regain his control, and there is a pause as his train of thought gets back on the track. “If I do your ass, I will make you come so incredibly hard that you won’t be able to breathe.”

She can’t breathe now.

“Or,” he says, evenly, “I could take this nice little pussy that I have been smelling all night. I won’t make you come like that, Pet. Too ordinary for our first joining, don’t you think? If I fuck your pussy, I’ll take that vibrator I mentioned earlier out of your nightstand and press it up against your clit until you are calling me ‘God’.”

He climbs up onto the bed behind her, and settles his cock on her back. He feels warm and thick-- when did he take off his boxers?

He presses forward, and she remembers that she has a much more important question to answer.

The feel of him inside of her pussy would be divine-- a fulfillment of massive, romance novel proportions. She could finally scratch that itch that had been burning for years inside of her. And despite what he said, she might come from the penetration alone. It is rare with her, but it does happen.

Only she has the feeling that he would make sure it didn’t.

Anal sex has long since been her own personal hot spot. She had first tried it in college, and after finding someone who could do it better than the first guy, had started to truly enjoy it. She felt open for days afterwards-- as if she had been taken and gutted and refilled with something else-- and in some of her D/s relationships, it had been used as behavior modification; a reward. She had loved it, all the time.

And that was with men who she weren’t in love with. Who didn’t have Gibbs’s hands, his body, his mind, his soul. Who she didn’t trust with her life and her body without hesitation.

Well, if she was going to be kinky and dirty with him tonight, she might as well do a good job of it. “My ass, sir,” she says. “I want it up my ass, if you would please give it to me.”

She hears him gasp-- he was expecting her to go with the more traditional method, and she knows it. If she was allowed to even consider laughing at him, she would smirk.

As it is, she just pants.

Gibbs can feel his jaw hanging loosely from his face. She just… She…

Uh God, he is so far out of his league it’s not even funny.

Still. Can’t leave the lady waiting. He reaches over into her night stand, finds the vibrator that he had just guessed about, and the KY Jelly that he knew would be there from her reaction to him. He pulls a condom out of a half empty box, hating for a brief moment whoever used the other with her but knowing that from now on he will be the only one depleting her stash of rubbers. He’ll make sure of it.

He rolls the condom on and slathers them both with he lube, feeling slightly surreal about the whole thing. He is about to have anal sex with Caitlin Todd.

He must have saved a bus load of orphaned nuns in a past life.

She unfolds her arms and grips the comforter in her fists when she feels him pressing against her asshole. His hands settle on her hips and squeeze. “Tell me if I hurt you, Pet,” he orders.

“Yes sir,” she whimpers, and he presses forward slowly and steadily.

It’s better than she remembered it-- like she’s being impaled on a log-- and every inch of him feels like ten this way. Her mouth opens in one long, silent groan, and his fingers bruise her skin on her hips. Her clit aches and swells at the sensation.

Oh yeaaaaaaaahhhh.

He pushes forward until his balls come up against her ass, and she is shaking at the feeling of him filling her up and completing what she didn’t know wasn’t whole before she met him.

“Daaaaaamn,” he groans out, low in his throat. He hasn’t moved yet; he holds himself inside of her incredibly tight, unbearably hot ass, and prays that he will never have to watch this woman walk out of his life.

Kate pushes back at him, rolling her ass, encouraging movement. She is making a soft keening noise in her throat, and it’s that sound that bring his dominant mind set back to him. The pinch he lands on her hip stills her movements, but the sound doesn’t stop. He doesn’t really want it to-- it’s needy and wanton, and all of those words that sound just perfect when he associates them with her.

He starts to move. Slowly, trying to keep his stamina where he knows it should be, but this is either a different act when it’s with someone you love or he wasn’t doing it right the last time because he isn’t going to last more than three minutes up her ass.

He has to make her come before that. He will make her come before that.

“I could fuck your ass for hours,” he growls, knowing that it’s not what he’s saying but the sound of his voice egging her on that excites her. “This tight… little… hole is all for… me, isn’t it?” His speed is increasing. Damn. Maybe two minutes.

Her head thrashes on the bed, hair tangling thick and damp around her face. Her lips are red and full, and one day soon he will have them wrapped around his cock, God as his witness. She has the sexiest mouth he has ever seen.

“I could make you want this… all the time, if I tried.” She can’t speak anymore. He struggles to keep his words steady. “Once I get you properly acclimated to me, Pet, I can have you begging for it over breakfast. I’ll have you so out of your mind that you’ll do anything-- anything-- to have me fuck your ass.” She bites the comforter to have something in her teeth, and there is a low humming noise filling her ears and flitting around her head. He is hot and he is full and he is her world wrapped up in skin that smells of sawdust and sweat and everything good.

“I can have you ready for me anytime I want you to be,” he groans, “because I am just that good, and you are completely-” thrust “-and utterly-” thrust “-mine.”

She comes and screams at the same time, body arching up at him, throat expelling all of the air left in her lungs in one loud plea for something she can’t name and can’t identify. Her skin is fire and her flesh is silk and she is his and he is all she needs and he is all she has and…

His back snaps him straight a second after she melts, and he pounds out his release with shaky, jerky thrusts as he squeezes her hips and yells out a wordless cry of success and completion. His mind is sucked out of his eyes by the sight of her skin on his and her body underneath his hands and there is nothing in the world that could be as perfect as this; the union of his body with hers as the world burns to ash around them to light their joining.

He has barely enough thought left in him to pull out of her body gently, soothing her gasp by gently stroking her flared asshole with the soft touch of his thumb, remove and tie the condom off. Her wastepaper basket will have to be taken out, he thinks fuzzily, and doesn’t really care.

He falls onto his side and pulls her along with him. She adjusts her position so her elbow doesn’t press into his stomach, and lets the heat of him soothe her muscles into compliancy. She feels worn and heavy with ache. She feels good.

“I need you,” he whispers into the damp hair next to his head. “I am so deep in love with you that I can’t find my way out with two hands, a rope, and a flashlight, hon.”

She smiles. His hand presses cautiously against her lower stomach, holding her even as he drifts off to unconsciousness.

“Good,” she whispers, and knows that he has already fallen asleep. “Because I could use some company down in this hole.”

She yanks on the blanket and folds it over the two of them, cuddling closer to him to fight off the chill that comes from being near the open side of their little cocoon. He moves in his sleep to accommodate her. She presses the last kiss of the night against his arm and sighs.

“Owned,” she repeats to herself softly, and chuckles as he pulls her closer in his sleep, as if afraid she’ll pull away and never be heard from again. “As long as you take good care of me, that’s just fine with me.” And she closes her eyes and lets the soft breathing against her neck lull her off to sleep and peace.



The Skin Within Series gets its name from an Incubus song, "Priceless" off the album "A Crow Left of the Murder." It goes:
“The fact that you think you can
Speak to me the way you do
Bleeds me to believe that you
Have never stepped out of the
Skin you live within.”
You know.
Just in case you cared.

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