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Click-clack, click-clack.

The tone had him looking up to see her leaning over the banister, his favorite redhead. There was just something about her today that made him tighten just by looking at her.

She was sporting a half-grin, and he thought her lipstick was new. Well, she at least hadn't worn it before. He almost groaned when he remembered her telling him about her new lipstick.

Wanna know the color?


Fuck me red.

Oh boy. All of a sudden, the ever-present twinkle in her eyes became more pronounced, as her lips curved into a full smile. She knew what he was thinking about.

And she liked it to, judging by the come-hither move she just made with index finger.

"Cynthia," Jenny said, and her assistant looked up.

"Yes ma'am?"

"You can go home now. You don't have to come in tomorrow early, either. I won't be in until noon, so you should enjoy half a day," Jenny said and saw the woman's eyes transform.

"Thank you, ma'am!"

Jenny walked back into her office and heard Cynthia pack up her things to leave. She looked at her watch and sighed. She really should be nicer to her assistant; it was almost ten o'clock.

A few minutes later, her door burst open and slammed close behind the person responsible.

She didn't even look up at the intruder.

"Can I help you, Jethro?" she asked icily.

Gibbs raised his eyebrows at the tone.

At his silence, she looked up, her face the epitome of pissed.

She glared all throughout him walking to her cabinet, taking out two glasses, filling them with bourbon and coming to stand in front of her desk. He innocently placed one in front of her.

Their intense staring match was broken—for quite possibly the first time—by Gibbs. The bag that had been sitting on her conference table was moved to her desk. She stared at it, but didn't move to open it.

Gibbs shrugged and sat down in one of the chairs in front of her desk.

He put the bag upside down and the wrapped gift tumbled out. She raised an eyebrow in question, but he acted as though he knew nothing.

She finally let out a loud sigh and reached for the silver-wrapped box. She pulled the red bow away and tore the paper off. Her eyes fell on the name printed on the top of the box. She looked up, to find Gibbs with a half-smile.

"Happy Birthday, Jen." She shook her head, trying to conceal her smile as she lifted the lid. Her eyes went wide; so did his grin.

She held up the red lace material.

"You could take off your current lingerie and try these on," he suggested, and was blinded by her coy smile. Her eyes were teasing, and he couldn't help but get a little nervous.

"Who said I was wearing underwear?" she asked, her voice raspy. He quickly composed himself.

"Going commando these days, again?" She roughly stood up, her chair swiveling back behind her, while she leaned over her desk.

"If you would have come up when I beckoned you over, you would have known, and would have found out much earlier than now." He couldn't even tear away his eyes from her tantalizing cleavage, but the message was clear. He'd missed today's opportunity. Fortunately, he didn't care. He also stood up and before she could process what was happening, he was kissing her. His hand was buried in her hair, keeping her close.

They finally pulled apart, gasping for breath. He rounded her desk to stand right in front of her.

"They're the exact same color as your new lipstick."

"Fuck me red?" she asked, her mouth curling into a smile. He had to take a moment to compose himself, making her giggle. When she noticed he was back, she stepped forward and molded her body against his. His hands made their way to her back, slowly going over her butt and resting on her thighs.

When he lifted her up, she squeaked and instinctively wrapped her legs around him. He set her down on her desk and sat down in her chair. She whimpered.

"You're too far," she whined. He didn't mind her, simply slipped her suit jacket off her shoulders. He decided against sitting and stood up, complying with her. Next on his list, was her very-revealing, super-low-cut gray blouse. He pulled it over her head and immediately latched onto her lips. After practically bruising her lips, he moved downwards, kissing a wet trail down her cheek, jaw and neck to finally lap at her clavicle. She moaned and let her head fall back. When he wanted to reach back to unclasp her bra, she realized she was the only one losing clothes, and she didn't like that.

She hopped off the table and thought how hot she looked as she backed him up against the wall. She was a vision in only her pencil skirt, bra and stilettos.

She divested him from his jacket and shirt, and then worked his belt buckle. Before she got it loose, however, he dropped to his knees in front of her. He kissed a trail up her leg and realized—with much hatred—that she was wearing pantyhose. As if sensing his emotion, she reached back and grabbed a pair of scissors off her desk. She handed it to him. He cut all the way up under her skirt, and she gasped when the cold metal made contact with her hip. When he was all done cutting the material, he happily pulled it away from her body. Next he worked on the zipper of her skirt. Soon, it pooled around her feet and he smirked. She was standing in front of him clad only in stilettos. And he liked it.

Before he could make his definite intentions clear, she rid him of his pants, dragging his boxers along with it. But before she could do anything about his ever-obvious arousal, he reached for her and went right to the source. His thumb flicked against her clit and she bucked against him. He pushed two fingers inside of her and pumped gently, while his thumb was still pleasuring her. She was making all kind of sounds he loved. Right when he felt the stirring of her climax, he pulled his hands away. Her eyes shot open and she shot him a murderous look. His fingers were drenched in her liquid and an indescribable feeling passed through her.

"Fuck me, Jethro," she said hoarsely. His lips fused over hers as he turned them around so her back was against the wall. He eased her up; she wrapped her legs around him. He positioned the tip of his erection at her entrance and let his arms go a little slack, making her slide down, taking his shaft into her. He made a sound akin to a groan and a moan.

With one hand holding her in place, and the other against the wall for stabilization, he started pounding into her. His head hung in the crook of her neck as he left a red mark there. Both their breaths were ragged, coming in short huffs.

Soon, she started quivering and her internal muscles clamped down on him, sending him into his own mind-blowing orgasm.

As they came down from their high, Gibbs was thankful that he the wall was there, because if not he would have collapsed to the floor.

When he regained enough strength, he moved them to her chair, lowering them so he was in a sitting position and she was straddling him. She sighed contently and laid her head on his shoulder; he pressed a kiss to her hair.

"Jethro?" she asked.


"Thank you for the present," she murmured.