The Counting Game
by B. Cavis

This is a sequel to Sight.

The Counting Game
by B. Cavis

He knows he is in trouble when he wakes up and finds a silk tie wrapped around each wrist. He's never been one for wearing his ties to bed (or around his wrists for that matter) which leaves only the possibility that the woman he's been sharing his bed with for a three month lifetime has suddenly decided to become vindictive and... act like herself.

Needless to say, this is not his normal way to wake up on a Saturday morning, nor his favorite. The running champ in that category involved waking up to find his girlfriend and love of his age climbing onto his morning erection and fucking herself while he sat back and watched.

Oh yeah. Good times.

But hey, he's not complaining. Waking up naked and tied to said girl friend's headboard has definite possibilities for a well trained agent of the United States government.

Damn. This is not going to end in any way but mind blowing.

Last Friday had been the single greatest erotic experience of his life, and he knows it. Knows how lucky he is to have found a woman who can match his own adventurous streak inch for inch while wearing just a little bit of her own kink around her edges. When he sits back to look, he wonders how he ever got so lucky as to find Kate Todd, and how he ever got so incredibly blessed as to end up with her tied to his bedposts, screaming out his name while begging for more.

The only answer he can come up with is that maybe in a past life he gave a lot of money to a church, but that doesn't seem too plausible. He's not sure if money is exchangeable through incarnations.

Getting off topic, warns his cock (which jumped up happily at the first feel of silk against his wrists, and is now so mind bendingly erect that it's brushing his stomach). Focus not on your own petty little thoughts, but on figuring out what that woman is doing and how soon we can get her to where we need her.

Priorities, man, priorities.

He feels Kate's warm presence next to him on the bed, curling up along side him, and he picks his head up to look down at her.

Naked skin. Glowing face. Bright eyes.


...Shaved pubic hair...

Cute so does not cover this woman.

"Kate," he says, and is disturbed to find that his voice has taken on the gravelly sound (one that only she can coax out of him) already. "What are you doing?"

The brown hair is tossed over one pale, perfect shoulder, and he watches the light catch it with affection. Her eyes meet his, and the evil little part of her that he just recently found out exists is shinning in there with all it's wicked glory.

"Isn't it obvious?" She leans down to taste the side of his neck, and he groans at the feel of her teeth on his skin. Hot and evil. "If you can't figure this out, Gibbs, I must not be doing it right." And her tongue traces down the curve of his bicep, and he pulls hard at the ties but find that they don't budge the way hers did.

He tied her with her stockings. She tied him with his neck tie. Turn about is... not at all fair play.

She laughs at him. Fucking laughs, like he is a harmless little puppy dog that she can manipulate with a touch and a pat and a kind word.



"This is my turn, Gibbs," she warns, and her eyes flash happily as she looks up at him. The link between them solidifies, and he can't imagine ever looking away from eyes that make him feel the way he does right now.

She's still talking, and as she does, she traces a soft trail of lips and saliva down his front. Her teeth brush up against his left nipple, and his hips are suddenly thrusting up in the air and all the breath has left his body.

"You already had your shot. You used it and made me a very happy girl." Evil, evil, evil woman... "So just sit back and do what I tell you to do, and we'll see if I can't make your brains melt out your nose."

She presses a wet, open mouthed embrace of her lips against his nipple, and the rest of her naked body presses down against him like a sexual down comforter. He can feel the circuits in his mind blowing in a shower of sparks and arousal.

There's a drop of precum on the tip of his cock. He doesn't have to look down to know it's there; Kate knows his body and she knows how to work her own to best make his respond.

He never had a chance. And before the night is out, he is going to have to fall to her feet and swear his allegiance to her, her heart, her mind, her body, and her wet, hot cunt that he really wants in his mouth right now and baby can I please, please, please, pleas...

"No," she laughs, and hey, wow, he's been talking aloud to her this whole time.

Damn this is dangerous to his health and his dignity.

"Maybe," she purrs against his chest (one quick hard bite to his left nipple) "if you're really, really good for me-" (nip on his right nipple and a suck that kicks him right in the gut) "and do exactly what I ask you to do-" (hot wet mouth right at the center of his chest, kissing, sucking, and making him die) "then we'll see what we can do."

Oh this is going to kill him. And here he had thought that only red heads were evil and cruel. Kate must have dyed.

He sleeps in the nude. Always has, always will. There's nothing in the whole world like the feel of sheets on bare flesh, and ever since he stopped turning to sawdust and sweat to be his comfort on a regular basis, he uses this.

Before he made Kate Todd scream for God for the first time, he would fall asleep fully clothed under his boat every night. Now he sleeps in bed with her, naked.

It's a nice exchange. One that Kate is obviously making full use of.

She drags her self, sensation by sensation, down his prone body, slow and steady, until her ass is resting right up against his kneecaps. His cock, red and trying to pretend that it's not at all happy with this turn of affairs (and failing miserably), bounces in front of her, and she smirks at it and at him. They still haven't broken eye contact.

"Gibbs," she says, and he knows-- just knows-- he is in trouble. "I want you to do something for me. It's not all that difficult, it doesn't involve any ice inserted into any part of your body, and it should be relatively painless for you." She wraps her hand around him, thick and firm at his base, and squeezes with the cool impersonal hands of a trained investigator.

He is going to puddle at her feet. He knows he is.

"I want you to do this thing for me," she says. "And in exchange, I'll suck your cock for as long as you can form words."

...he hopes she won't have trouble getting him out of the carpet. Blotting with a few paper towels should do it...

"Okay," he grunts. "Okay, okay, okay..." Anything she asks will be hers. If she wants him to bend over and take it in the ass with a barbed wire dildo? Hey. Where are the band-aids?

She smiles, pleased, and he smiles back fuzzily. Oh, her mouth is moving. Mmmmm...

"Last week you asked me when I first knew I wanted you. And I told you. But I already know when you first wanted me-- you told me so, remember?"

Grunt. Pant. He has a memory?

She grins. "So I want something better. A bit more insight. I want to know what your best one is. Your best little thought about me and you together. Wet dreams, lover? Fantasies? It's all mine." Her head lowers until a soft drift of hair is brushing against his inner thigh, right next to her hand and his cock and all of the focus in the universe is on her right now. He watches, transfixed, as she opens her mouth and purses her lips.

And blows a cool stream of air onto his cock.


"And if you can keep talking, I'll keep doing exactly what you like me doing." She grins, pleased with herself. "I'm inventive, lover. And you are going to beg for me at least four times tonight."

Yes ma'am. No arguments here. No sir-ee.

God he's pathetic. God why isn't she sucking his cock yet?

Oh right. He has to work for this part, doesn't he? Minor details.

Gibbs clears his throat and rests his head back against his bound arms so he doesn't have to look away. Her chocolate and sex eyes stare up at him expectantly, and her mouth hovers oh so close to him.

"I've had it since the sub. When we were pushed up against the wall." And her mouth lowers over him and the tip of that tongue comes out to trace a thin alphabet line up his cock. Uhhh.

"I, uhm, I kept having it up until we got togeth..." The word dries up hard on his tongue, and he licks his lips once again to clear it off. Kate's tongue has paused, resting wet and thick against the underside of his cock. He's not talking. She's not moving.

"We're in the office." She resumes. The flat of her tongue devours him; ice cream with skin. He watches, dead to the world but her, as she dances around the head of his cock, where the precum drop has now pooled too large and is slipping down. "You're, uhg gawd, you're wearing a red skirt and, um, heels."

The drop of precum has dripped down to hit her hand. She takes it off the base of his cock and they both look at it. Liquid on ivory. She smiles, a little upturn of the tips, and he tongue, that glorious bringer of all things good, slips out of her mouth and licks him off her palm.

Slowly. With a little gasping moan.

"Oh God, Katie, please, please, please-"

"That's one, lover." And she's laughing at him with her eyes, those perfect orbs that he just can't look away from. She leans back down and puts her mouth just at the head of his cock, so close he can feel her exhalations onto it. Her lips are swollen and thick. He swallows and grunts.

"You're walking over to me, and for some reason Tony isn't there and neither is anyone else but I still know it's... oh dear sweet Jesus, Katie-"

She takes him into her mouth, just the head of him, and he grunts in some emotion that tickles the back of his knees as he feels her hot and tight around him. She moans, and the sound of it travels up through his skin to buzz his brain.

He can't look away from her face because if he does he'll loose her and everything else in the universe will fade into nothingness. His mouth is moving, and he's not quite sure what's coming out, but it seems to be what she wants to hear.

"You're sitting on my desk and your legs are apart and you're... you're not wearing any panties and I know it because you- uhgh- you put your legs up on either side of me, on the armthings on my chair, and I can see and..." His head feels like it's been soaked in soda-- little bursts of something keep going off all over the place. "You're talking to me, and I can hear you-- it's a case or something and I just really don't care because your cunt is right there and..." She is so bad for his speaking ability. So bad. He's losing letters in the warmth of her mouth.

"And I jus' have to and I know you're gonna be angry but I jus' gotta taste you and there you are." She slowly starts to inch her way down his cock, hot and wet, and his hips jerk up in response. Her eyes warn him to stay still, and he grits his teeth tightly. When he speaks next, she's got half of him in her mouth and his voice is lower than normal, but lacks any kind of strength.

"I pull you down into my lap, and my pants are gone and I don't know how but then I'm in you and you're on me." She starts to move her head up and down, cheeks indented with the pressure she's exerting, and her hand works the remaining part of him with short jerky movements. "You're wet an' desperate for it, for me, and you wan' it baaad."

Her mouth is tightening on him. He can feel the ridges of her palate rubbing his flesh, and she is starting to work him faster and faster.

"I'm fucking you and you're fuckin' me and no matter who walks in you can't get up off me 'cause you need it so bad. You want it too much." She's panting along with him, and her eyes are his and his are hers.

"And you're comin' and I'm makin' you and you're begging for more and more and for the love of God, Katie, please, please, please, please!"

She pauses. He can't seem to get enough air, but there's enough of it for him to smell her arousal and her want. Her eyes are dark and liquid, and they crinkle up a bit as she slowly eases her mouth off of his cock.

Kate's lips are red and stretched and bruised, and there is no sight more beautiful in this world. He thrusts his hips back up at her, and she laughs.

"That," she says, "was number two."

And it's official. He's in sexual deviant hell.

She's laughing, he's not, and she seems to find this even funnier. Her legs appear on either side of his arms and she's perched on his chest. His arms hurt. Not complaining.

Kate takes his head between her hands and pulls his mouth up to meet hers. She tastes like him and her combined, and if he was the kind of man he was in the years before he met her, that would disgust him.

She pulls away and there's a glowing satisfied look on her face.

"You're mine, Jethro Gibbs," she asserts, and he nods numbly, like a little child.

God just hurry up and do me.

Satisfied, she pushes his head back down on the bed and looks down at him between her thighs. "I think I just made your day, Agent Gibbs." And the smile is still in her eyes. "Now I think it's about time you made mine." One hand grabs his shoulder, the other the headboard that's getting so much use tonight, and her body slides up his once more until the warm stickiness that he wanted in his mouth so badly earlier is in view and within reach.

Katie wants to be eaten out, informs a little voice in his head.

Oh, responds the rest of his post-blow job stupefied brain. That makes sense.

He arches up towards her, mouth open, neck straining, and she pulls back. Not a lot, just enough, and he looks up at her through desperate eyes. She looks down at him, sighs, and very deliberately, slides the hand that was on his shoulder up, up, up, to press against her own naked cunt.

Her head falls back. Her half of the eye contact breaks, and he just bathes her in his gaze. Her pointer finger, unfolds and slips into her own body, inches from his face, and he can feel his body stretching, reaching, needing silently. Kate is masturbating a scant two inches in front of his face, her fingers in her body, her head back, her chest heaving.

...He's had this fantasy before too. Only that time, her touch was at his insistence, his order; not because she'd tied him to the bed and left him no choice but to watch.

Hell, it's not like he can look away, after all.

"Gibbs," she gasps, and he imagines her for a moment, five months ago, lying on her bed naked, getting off to a fantasy of him and her the way he had to in the shower for all those years of waiting.

One day, he thinks to her, I'll have you replay that scene for me. Complete with interruption from the real deal.

"I'm so hot," she complains, and he nods.

Yes you are.

"I just need... mmmmm..." Her thumb presses down on her clit, hard and fast, and he watches as she comes undone in a mass of strings and heat in front of him.

God he needs this. God he needs her.

"Katie," his voice bubbles out, "please, come on, please-"

Her fingers slip out of her own body. Wet. Perfect. And she drags them gentle and soft across his bottom lip.

Dear. Fucking. Jesus.

"That's three, lover," she purrs, before lowering herself to his mouth and clasping his shoulder again with her damp fingers.

It takes him a moment. He may have just seen one of the most erotic things ever, so his brain needs a moment to reboot. When the image of her coating his bottom lip with her fingers disappears long enough for him to see what's in front of his face right now, he snaps back to himself and her. Quickly.

He opens his mouth and presses an open mouthed kiss against her, exactly on the center of her body. She grins happily. He's good at this and he damn well knows it too.

Tongue and teeth and cunt-- a three part dance that will leave her in a boneless flop across his face if he does it right.

His tongue finds her clit, swollen and dripping into his mouth, and her back arches as he grabs it between his front teeth and pulls for all he's worth. There's a scream building in her stomach, and he intends on exorcising it.

He traces letters, words, terms of endearment and hatred into her heat, and she just grinds against his face and grunts. His tongue dips into her and runs over her and owns as much of her as he can get at. He rubs his chin into her-- stubble on soft-- and she gasps for air as her grip on his shoulder starts to involve nails and force.

This is how things are supposed to be. Him driving her out of her mind.

"Gibbs." Her voice spills down to him and splashes on his face. He grins into her and presses against her pubic bone. Her clit takes his unshaven skin, and she's trying to breath. "God, Gibbs, that's... Uhmg..."

He can't get out of the ties without tearing some serious skin off his arms, but he does the next best thing by shoving his face up as hard and as long as he can, forcing her head back and pushing her closer and closer to the edge that she is just so begging to be shoved over.

He bites her again. Sucks. Blows. Moves every part of him with the beat of her.

When she screams, he's the one laughing this time.

Her head drops forward to her chest, and her entire body goes limp but still upright. Her mouth is open, her eyes are closed, and he thinks she may just be the most perfect thing he's ever seen in his entire life.


And he needs her right now.

"Katie," he whispers. "Untie me. Untie me and I'll make it good." His chin is dripping wet. "Please, please-- untie me. I need it. Please."

He wishes he could move his hands. Wishes he could touch her and hold her and love her with his fingers. Wants to end this game-- end this little tease she thinks she's doing. He hates being out of control-- hates it. He's not meant to be the one at the mercy of another.

Though he seems to have done an admirable job tonight.

And in the midst of all of this pleading, all of these little thoughts on control and need and want, Kate opens up both of her eyes, grins wide and proud and says, "And that's four."

And quicker than he can think, she's down his chest, down his stomach, and on him, on him, on him...

He loses sight of her for the first time all evening. His head flies back, weak and desperate, and his hips thrust up at her with all of the need that she's put in him tonight. All of it. She's still gasping for air from the last time he made her lose her mind, and the little pathetic struggle for breath is gorgeous because he knows what's causing it.

"That's it," he grits out, "Yes-- that's absolutely fucking it!" His throat coils and stretches back. "Fucking perfect, babe. Fucking absolutely perfect-- move for me." He can't get enough air to whisper or to hum-- everything he says is thrown out of his throat because if he doesn't push it, it won't come at all and there are things right now that she needs to hear just as much as he need to tell them.

"I love you," he forces. "I fucking love you and nothing could ever be better than you and me and nothing ever will be." Push. Her head is falling back again-- she's still sensitized from the previous orgasm, and this motion is making her whole body buzz and burn the way he needs it to.

Her fingers tangle in his chest hair, pulling gently, but more just to anchor her own body. He can see her second release of the night building up around her, trapping her, and he loves that he can do this to this woman and that she can do the same thing to him.

"Fuck me, babe," he grunts. "Come on, move and I swear you'll get what you need." Her hips pick up a little bit-- his voice can work wonders for her in bed, he discovered. He talks as often as possible. It helps reassure him that she's actually there with him and he's not just having an out of body experience.

Her mouth is open. She's whispering, and she's begging, and he can hear his name scattered bright upon the nonsense that pours from her throat. He loves her for it all, and pushes up as hard and fast as he can with his limitation. Her whole body is fire and need and beauty, and he's just there to be a catalyst to her in every way she needs him to be.


"Gibbs," she pants, and her back crumbles under gravity until she's lying on top of him, hips still moving, breathing wet and hot against his neck. "Gibbs, baby, God."

And fuck skin because let's face it he doesn't really need it anyhow.

He rips his hands from the ties. Pain rakes through him, and he looks down at the cloth burns on his arms and doesn't care one bloody bit. She looks at him with hazy eyes and an open mouth, and he just grabs her and pulls her up to move her faster for the benefit of them both.

There's no more talking. He's looking at her, and she's looking at him, and they're moving together in just the right way-- the way they need to move-- and he can feel his body boiling up behind his eyeballs as she feels herself burn and drip and spill out against him.

The lights come for them both.

And they're gone.

Forever and a day later, Kate picks her head up off of the warm, breathing pillow she seems to have found, and finds herself looking directly into those perfect blue pools she puts so much emotional stock into. He blinks.

She lets him keep her there, laying on his stomach, as he gazes down at her. She doesn't have the energy to do anything else, and besides, he looks pretty focused on what he's doing right now-- she wouldn't tell him "no" at the moment for anything in the world.

Touches. Soft and heavy, coating her skin in a thin veneer of his learning. He strokes the skin he can find, taking her skin in inch by inch for mental ownership, and she watches him do it all.

When he works his way up to her face, she's kissing him before he can say anything.

"That was..." He trails off, and she smiles softly.


"I've... I've never done anything like that before." He smiles weakly, and she smiles wider. "I've never trusted anyone like that before."

Her whole body is buzzing. There's a warm buzz in her chest-- a lovely heat that speaks of love and need and happiness, and she holds it back just for a moment, just long enough.

"I love you," she whispers to him, and laughs the way he loves her to laugh and the way that makes her feel like nothing in the world could ever hurt her and him. "And I don't care if you were a virgin, Jethro, darling-" and his eyes darken dangerously, "you were fine for a beginner."

And then he's got her on her back and she's laughing like she'll never be able to stop as he traces his fingers up and down her sides while cursing like the sailor he has always been.

Saturday morning comes in with peals of laughter and muttered oaths.

It's a beautiful day.


If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to B. Cavis