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Paris Rose

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 It shouldn't have come to a surprise that he was fascinated with lipstick, more specifically her lipstick. With the amount of time he spent staring at her mouth, he would have to be colorblind not to notice the varying shades that were not her natural innocent pink. Not that he didn't mind the natural innocent pink, it was just that the different colors usually meant something. A coral or a pink was a casual going out, or just being stuck in the office and still wanting to look nice. He ignored the pink most of the time and thought the coral was nice but didn't do much, and he'd rather watch her scarlet red hair; he did have a reputation to keep after all. The browns, mauves, and dark almost purple colors generally meant she was going to a meeting, perhaps with SecNav or a group of Agency Directors, or she was having a Team Leader meeting. Nothing much there except those dark shades usually made him do double takes to her lips before focusing in on her bright emerald green eyes instead. He was good with eye contact. The reds, though...this red specifically, this was the flashing neon danger sign that his mind more often than not ignored.


 The red was sultry, sexy, and bordering on indecency. Gibbs was sure dancers wore it, and not the ballerina kind, not that he had specific knowledge about it. The shade on her, however, wasn't easily ignored. It had been many years since he had watched her apply lipstick, and usually, it was in the comfort of knowing it was probably going to be all over his skin by the end of the night, now though he didn't get to watch unless he happened upon her. She wore the red tone the first day as Director; he was sure it was to torture him, an extra stab in the stomach as if the memories she invoked on constant replay weren't enough. Jenny wore it when she went to the Marine Corp birthday ball; she wore it that day she cut off her hair (it was the only reason he'd bitten his tongue and not fallen for the bait), she wore it that day she was kidnapped too when he wasn't the only male looking at her. 


 It wasn't a secret that she was off-limits. The entire agency knew about his Rule 12 and that there was a subsection focusing just on her and the nature of her off-limits. Not one of the males under fifty would be telling the truth if they said they hadn't had a fantasy about her, but they were not suicidal, and if Gibbs was willing to turn on his own St. Bernard over her, there was no reason to jeopardize their hides. Yet when the threat had come outside the agency, when she'd been out of protection that he'd personally screened, he'd been worried. He had thought about what might have happened if the guy had had more than just his baby brother in mind, and he didn't like that thought, not one tiny bit. 


 He'd notice the red come out a little bit more when Hollis had been around. It didn't take much for his entire thought process to be consumed by her, but with Hollis, he could at least fake a distraction, the red lipstick had made that impossible as well. Perhaps it was because Gibbs knew that at one point in time, she'd had some items that had matched that shade that fueled his somewhat active imagination, but he wasn't too sure it was just that. He was also sure she didn't own them anymore, and if she did, he doubted she'd wear them in his presence because he knew just how active her imagination could be. 


 He'd known she had nothing against showing a little skin. He had taught her to be resourceful, and she was damn good at using what God had given her, much to his annoyance when she wasn't using it against him. He had tried to make a grand show of showing he wasn't affected, but he was almost positive she knew it was just that, a show. Gibbs was almost sure she knew that the commentary like 'you really should get out of your basement more,' got to him, and could use their past just as he could like the Positano comment. Even if she fell silent afterward, he knew that she knew he had been affected. It probably didn't help that the first thing he remembered about her was their less than professional behavior in a lovely large bed with crisp white sheets, or that she knew it. Had he remembered more than that of her at the time, he would have suspected she was withholding laughter, but instead, he'd gotten a soft little sigh and a 'well that's a start.' She'd been wearing red lipstick then too. 


 It really all did come down to that red lipstick, didn't it? If Gibbs thought hard enough, he was sure she was wearing red lipstick the first time he kissed her too, not the first time they met though, he thought it might have been a mauve. All his reminiscing on this red lipstick amounted to absolutely fucking nothing when he stormed into her office to find her applying the shade expertly to her lovely lips. The door had closed behind him, and she looked up, waiting for the tirade that never came. In truth, he couldn't even remember what day of the week it was much less what case he'd come to yell at her about. He'd head slap himself if he could find the energy to focus on something other than her gorgeous red lips. She'd put the lipstick down much to his dismay, and her lips were parted in soft breathing as if she were asleep , and he quickly squashed that thought dragging his eyes away from her lips to her green eyes ablaze with curiosity. 


"Something I can help you with, Agent Gibbs?" Oh, there most definitely is. 


"JETHRO!" Shit. He was so sure he hadn't said that out loud. He glanced over her eyes again and found one eyebrow raised in amusement. If he hadn't said it, he was pretty sure she knew he was thinking it.




 "Cat got your tongue?" She inquired innocently, standing and leaning across her desk. How was it exactly that he hadn't noticed she was wearing a scoop neck blouse that allowed quite a generous glimpse of skin? He heard her sigh. "When you're quite finished." His eyes snapped off the ivory and back to the emerald green. 


 "What are you all primped for?"


 "None of your business, now what was so important that brought you up here, I 

thought you were still avoiding me."


 "I wasn't avoiding you." At least he didn't think he had been, aside from walking into the room the rest of his memory was kinda mush right now. Both eyes blinked, and he watched the amusement fade from her eyes to be replaced with carefully hidden worry. 


 "Right, of course, you weren't," she answered as if to play along. He felt he was being led into a test.


 "You didn't answer my question."


 "You haven't answered mine; I outrank you."


 "You're pulling rank, Madame?" The lipstick fits the part. He bit his tongue as her eyes caught fire. Why didn't you throw on the Director? Hm? WAY TO GO GIBBS! The little Abby on his shoulder seemed to scream. Throw on Director, you mean throw her on the desk, right? C'mon Boss; you've probably done it before . The mini Tony wasn't helping much either. 


 "Why do I get the feeling you're not listening to a word I'm saying?" Her voice was sadly like an ice bucket.


 "Uh...I was listening. You were talking about....about the case." That seemed like a safe assumption.


 "Actually I was telling you I was getting married, but yea that about covers the 

case too."


 "You what?" He leaned over her desk, hands gripping the edges. 


 "Well, I'm glad I have your attention now."


 "You're getting married to who?" He demanded.


 "Jethro, if you'd been listening to what I was saying..."


 "You can't get married!" Where was the Gibbs-slap that was supposed to follow that rather childish statement? And why was she laughing? He replayed the conversation as best he could. He had zoned out for most of it; she was probably irritated, he knew from previous experience she couldn't stand it when he ignored her, so she threw in something that would send him into a rage. Yea...her getting married covered that. How exactly would she know that? "Laugh it up, Madame Director, I'm simply worried about your reputation."


 "Well, then it's a good thing I'm going to learn from your mistakes and never get married," she assured. 


 "Good." He sounded oddly proud of himself. "So where are you off to?"






 "Are you filling in for my security or something?"




 "Right, nice try."


 "C'mon humor me."


 "I'm going to dinner with ZNN because someone pissed off the press again, and I have to go smooth over ruffled feathers before NCIS gets sued for policy brutality or violating the first amendment."


 "Who pissed off the press?" The glare was more than enough to tell him it had been a rhetorical question, and if he valued his life, he'd shut up. He never listened to the glare. "The guy had it coming. Besides, you told me to handle the last one, and I said I would take her out to dinner, and then you interfered, so I figured I wouldn't even offer this time."


 "Yes, well, I can't imagine you'd like to take another guy out to dinner, and in the long run it doesn't matter much, he's taking me to dinner, it was basically the only way I was going to get this to go away." Oh, he really, really didn't like that. She was not allowed to flirt with someone else to get him out of trouble. No thanks, no way, he'd rather be paying off a lawsuit. 


 "You're not going."


 "Excuse me?"


 "You're not lipstick. It's smudged," he told her, trying to figure out a way to take the tube before she noticed. She glanced at the compact on the desk and sat back down to reapply it. Way to go, Gibbs, they should use this as a form of torture.   She ran the lipstick over her bottom lip before pouting slightly to fix the top. He hated it when she pouted; she usually got her way. "So, what's it called?"




 "The lipstick, what is it called?"


 "Oh...I haven't a clue," she lied as her eye twitched in unison with the words. 


 "Of course you don't," he muttered. Really with a tell you think she would learn. She stood up and came around the desk, and for the first time he got to take in the whole ensemble, she could be going to lots of places, but dinner with some guy from ZNN wasn't one of them. She bent down to adjust her shoes, and he traced the very shapely curves trying not to make it obvious. She straightened up, and he stood his ground, wanting to see if he could somehow keep her in the office. She walked around him, and he stood frozen facing the back wall trying to figure out if he should chase after her or just plain crash the dinner. He being there would prevent her from having to use methods he would otherwise applaud. However, his thoughts were cut a little short when he felt her behind him, and not just somewhere behind him, right against him, the skin not covered by her top touching his jacket.  


 "Next time Jethro, don't stare at my mouth so long," she whispered breathlessly against his ear. He felt her arms hold his shoulders for her balance as she was no doubt on her tiptoes. "And for the record, it's called Paris Rose." She was gone after that a faint brush of her lips to his cheek that left him wondering if it had actually happened. He noticed the pocket mirror she had and picked it up, there on the side of his neck was her mark in Paris Rose. He was going to kill her when he caught up with her. He stormed out of the office and stalked over the catwalk, noticing she'd left already.


 "DINOZZO!" The younger man had jumped to his feet. 


 "Yes, Boss!" 


 "Road block three miles from Palena's!"


 "Right uh...on it, Boss!" He picked up the phone, glancing over at the rest of his team.




 "Gibbs?" She was looking a little bit more concerned. 


 "Slit the ZNN news reporter," he ordered, glancing at her knife.


 "With pleasure!" She announced jumping up and going with Tony.


 "His tires, Ziva, not his throat, much as I might like it." 


 "Yes, Gibbs." 






 "Hack ZNN dig up something."


 "Right, Boss," McGee turned back to his computer, wondering what the hell had 

gotten into Gibbs. 


 "I'll be with Abby." Gibbs then entered the elevator and took it down to the lab, being greeted with loud music. "ABBY!" The music died instantly.


 "Gibbs! Uh...I don't have anything."


 "Order a dozen orchids."


 "Orchids? I get to ask why?" 


 "No, now do the thing on the computer, have them delivered to Palena's."


 "Is there a particular name I should address them to?" He stared for a moment before smirking as an idea hit him.


 "Yea, have it addressed to..." He scribbled down a name which he pressed into her hands and left it, Abby's giggling following. Gibbs bolted down to autopsy, hoping his old friend had already left but upon hearing the voice knowing there was little hope.


 "Ah Jethro, what brings you down here? You're not hiding from our Director, are you?"


 "Hardly, I need to get my suit, and you wouldn't happen to know if I have a red tie, would you? Like Paris Rose-red?" Ducky glanced over at his young friend and hid a smirk; it's about time.


 "Yes, you do, you bought it once; actually you didn't, it was bought for you."


 "An ex-wife? Cause I can't wear it..."


 "No, not an ex-wife," Ducky replied with a meaningful look, and Gibbs nodded.


 "That will work." Gibbs took the outfit and disappeared, heading up to the men's bathroom to change. Ten minutes later, he was out the door and in McGee's car heading up to Palena's passing the roadblock Tony had enacted on a side-street. He tossed the valet the keys and went up the steps into the fancy restaurant, sure he'd passed at least three senators on the way in. He smirked as he saw the flower delivery boy hesitantly in the doorway as he stepped up to the bar. 


 He spotted Jenny waiting at a corner table; she'd changed in the car as she was in a rather fetching green shimmery dress. She kept glancing over every so often and greeting other people who stopped by. He could tell she was getting irritated and was thinking she was being stood up. If there was one thing, he'd learned it was not to stand up a redhead. As a middle-aged slimy-looking man slithered in the doors and over to her table, the waiter brought the flowers over. The newscaster looked surprised when the flowers appeared, and Jenny smiled sweetly until she found the card. 


 "For Director Gibbs," the man said with a slight French accent. He watched her eyes widen, and a fake smile slap across her face. He withheld the chuckle that threatened to escape. Two dozen orchids might have been a bit much Abbs, he thought amused. He crept closer, trying to hear. 


 "I wasn't aware Special Agent Gibbs was the assistant Director," the snake said. 


 "He's uh...not," Jenny answered, trying to figure out what was going on she glanced around the restaurant wondering if maybe she'd crossed a line in the office. Sure, sure, of course probably saying that last time it said Director Shepard, not Director Gibbs probably was never the best comeback line, but that was weeks ago! 


 "So I was thinking Jen..." the snake continued.


 "It's Jenny," she corrected suddenly, thinking that this maybe hadn't been the best move she'd made. At this point, she would have liked having Gibbs lurking over her shoulder; at least with his brand of intimidation, she wouldn't be forced to remove the man's hands from her thigh. 


 "Right, Jenny, that's pretty," the snake complimented. Jenny nodded, her head still scanning the room. "So perhaps you could tell me what you do outside of NCIS?"


 "There isn't an outside NCIS," she laughed.


 "No husband, boyfriend?" She was going to shake her head no, but an idea occurred to her that the flowers were going to help with.


 "Husband," she answered, and Gibbs wasn't far enough away to miss it. His ears perked right up, and unfortunately, the compulsion to move forward, ruined his hiding spot, and he felt Jenny's eyes upon him. He glanced up, trying to look guilty but found she was smirking and rolled her eyes towards the bar. That was an order, so he moved slowly. "But, it's hushed."


"The first female Director is married, and no one knows?"


 "It's a quiet affair; most people don't even suspect," she returned, leaning forward slightly. The snake nodded. 


 "Problems in paradise?"


 "Some, but doesn't every couple?" she inquired.


 "I suppose so."


 "I bet your wife would agree," she commented offhand and watched him pale. HA got him! Apparently, though, it wasn't enough as the snake leaned forward again and spoke quietly of what they could do without their significant others. Jenny glanced up, making sure Gibbs was still at the bar but didn't find him. She reached into her purse, maintaining eye contact and pressed speed dial one on her phone. Strangely enough, Jenny heard it behind her just as the snake pulled away and sat up stock straight. Either she had a gun to her head, or Gibbs was giving the Gibbs' glare. 


 "Jen," he began quite calmly. "I didn't know you would be here."


 "I told you I was having dinner with the press, darling," she replied, not even batting an eye. She wasn't sure she'd ever called him 'darling.' The snake didn't look very happy at the interruption. 


 "Agent Gibbs," he greeted coolly. "Director Shepard and I were just discussing the case."


 "Ah...well, I hate to interrupt, but I was sent to inquire about a red corvette, it wouldn't happen to be yours?"


 "It is."


 "It's being towed," Gibbs answered, leaning down and slightly over Jen's shoulder, his hands falling to the bare skin. The man smiled for a second before jumping up with a muttered curse and bolting out the door. "I'd love to watch him explain this to his wife and three kids."


 "Well, are you happy you ruined my date?" she returned.


"Ah so it was a date, and here I thought you had standards."


 "Palena's is way up the ladder from Chinese take out on a concrete floor," she retorted. 


 "Well, the woman I date like sawdust," he whispered in her ear before moving to sit in the now unoccupied seat. She sighed.


 "If you wanted to have dinner, you could have asked."


 "This is more fun."


 "What did you do?"

 "Let's see Tony got word of a roadblock which apparently your buddy ran through and then he parked in front of a fire hydrant, the fire department and police take that very seriously, you know? Plus, one of his tires is flat, and his editor wants to know why he would dare lie about the Director of NCIS's personal life. He said they are not 'a gossip rag, they are a prestigious newscasting.'"


 "Well, I suppose it's nice to know that I got two dozen orchids with the last name that's not mine won't be all over the 6 am news. I would hate for the SecNav to stroke." He smirked. She smiled, noticing the upturned collar at his neck, the red mark peaking out. "It's a good color on you."




 "Paris Rose, very nice color for you," she repeated. 


 "It looks better on you," he assured.


 "Think that might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me," she said, smiling. Gibbs' eyes drifted from her eyes down to her lips, which were still the shade of Eve's no doubt. No wonder Adam fell, he thought as he tried to figure out how to avoid his Eve. 


 "I don't think it would match your news buddy's tie," he said. She raised her eyebrow at this. Could it be that the ever silent Leroy Jethro Gibbs was trying to demonstrate jealousy? Will wonders never cease?


  "Then I guess I'll just have to go home alone," she said. 


 "Have you gotten more than drinks?" Gibbs asked.


 "No, I was just looking over."


 "Stay then," he suggested.


 "Is this a backward invitation to dinner?"


 "Yea...something like that, my treat."


 "Well, in that case," Jenny trailed off, flipping open the menu. "What do you think?"


 "Chicken Marsala," he answered.


 "Hm..." Dinner was had in rather splendid fashion. They fell into a pleasant conversation on different topics that surprisingly didn't focus on work. After Gibbs paid the check, Jenny thanked him, and he helped her from the chair. "Thank you for the flowers," she said as he carried them to the coat check so she could get her coat.


 "It was Abby's idea," he told her so as not to take credit for what might be considered romantic. 


 "Of course, and she just guessed my favorite flower," she went along, surprised when the valet brought around a Porsche and handed Gibbs the keys.


 "Your chariot," he gestured. 


 "You stole McGee's car?"


 "Borrowed, he knows I have it," Gibbs clarified. "Besides, the kid doesn't know how to drive it." He opened the door for her and helped her in before going around to the driver's side. They took off down the busy streets of DC, and she was somewhat surprised to find he took her back to her house, no questions asked. He even helped her out of the car and carried the flowers. She opened the door and let him come in, pointing to a table for the flowers. She helped him with his coat, and he followed her into the study where two glasses of bourbon were soon poured. Jenny was feeling slightly nervous, though; she was trying to figure out where the courage that had caused her to make a move in her office had fled to. Gibbs hadn't brought it up, but he'd gone through a lot to get rid of her dinner date. 


 "What's on your mind, Jethro?" She inquired gently, watching as she swirled the amber liquid in the crystal glass. 




 "Should I be worried?" She laughed, wondering just what thoughts, in particular, he was focused on.


 "How long have you had that shade of lipstick?"


 "Years...why are we talking about my lipstick?"


 "It suits you, Jenny," he said, swallowing hard, and she caught the tone change. When he said Jenny like that, they were usually closer to one another than two people could be. She moved from leaning against her desk to the chair he was sitting in taking a deep breath just before she leaned down. She pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, pulling away before she could regret it. 


 "Suits you too." She tried to move to the other chair, but he caught her about her waist, his fingers lightly skimming over her the material on her hip. 


 "I don't like it when you wear lipstick."


 "You never complained before," she recalled knowing that years ago, she would have gotten rid of all her lipstick if he had told her that.


 "I never had a reason too."


 "I see, so it was fine that I wore lipstick years ago, but now it's not fine?" She gathered. He nodded. "And why the change?" He was silent and found the flames from the fireplace suddenly fascinating. "Jethro," she pushed, poking a finger at him. He caught her smaller hand in his and seemed fascinated by the size difference. He shrugged his shoulders. 


 "I just don't like it anymore."


 "Well, I thank you for your opinion, but I don't like chapped lips."


 "Is that a nice way of saying my opinion doesn't matter?" He inquired, tilting his head to meet her eyes.


 "It matters on important things, whether or not I wear lipstick is hardly important and hardly your concern," she replied. 


 "It used to be," he mumbled, but it wasn't quite quiet enough to miss her ears. She ignored it temporarily and went on with her statement.

 "Besides, it's hardly like you're affected by it," she tossed out. He glanced up at her in shock. Woman has lost her mind.  


 "You didn't just say that," he questioned. 


 "That it hardly affects you whether or not I wear lipstick? Yes, I did, because it doesn't," she sounded almost hurt to him.


 "One of these days Jen, I'm going to head slap you," he threatened. 


 "You wouldn't...wait, why?" She was unprepared for the shift in her equilibrium and went from her carefully balanced position on the arm of the chair to his lap with just a slight tug. 


 "Woman you're going to be the death of me."


 "Who me?" 


 "Yes, you, don't play coy Jenny, you know very well what you do to me and probably every other straight man in the building."


 "Did you just accuse me of being a tease?"


 "No, I accused you of being a woman too good looking for her own well being." 


 "I think I'll take that as a compliment," she said after a minute. He pulled her closer, supporting her back so it wouldn't bother her later. 


 "If I asked you to give me your word on something, would you?" He asked a minute later. She glanced up at him, surprised by the question, and wondered if she was really in the position to deny him anything.


 "I think it would depend on what this something is, wouldn't it?"


 "Can you not handle the press anymore, at least for me, let me deal with them my way?"


 "Jethro your way involves violence usually!" She protested.


 "I'll handle it politely."


 "Why the sudden change of heart?"


 "It was never a change of heart, just a lack of tolerance."




 "Watchingyouflirt." Her eyebrow furrowed for a moment, not sure she'd heard what he said.


 "Say that again."


 "You heard the first time; your hearing isn't that bad." She was silent for a bit staring at the flames, trying to figure out what this all meant. Her silence must have bothered him because she felt his hand tap her back slightly. "Jenny?"




 "Say something."


 "What do you want me to say?" He didn't like that answer very much and felt him tense his body gearing up for a fight.


 "You kissed me."


 "You didn't kiss me back," she pointed out. 


 "That's it?" He sounded shocked. She looked up at him. "I can fix that." He leaned down, kissed the corner of her mouth gently, more of the good night kiss he'd used to give her so many years ago. "There, now, will you say something?" 


 "If I say do that again..."


 "I'm telling you I'm breaking your word about no off the job." 


 "I can live with that," she assured, leaning up to meet his lips halfway. He pulled her up, so she sat with her arms around his neck, their lips fused. He stood carefully, one hand lifting her under her knees, the other holding her back. His lips muffled the giggles that escaped her as she kicked her heels off in an unknown direction. Their mouths separated briefly for air, their noses rubbing affectionately. 


 "Still got that pillow top mattress?"


 "You mean the one you told me I had to have?" 




 "Oh yea," she replied, laughing. The man who loved to sleep under his boat had to have her fluffy mattress. The Prince and the Pea , she thought, amused knowing if she had her way, it wouldn't be a pea that caused marks. She felt his lips at her neck, sucking gently, and she knew what the end product would be. "Jethro," her breath caught in the scold.


 "Hey you have two marks. I get one too."


 "I got rid of my scarves."


 "I'll just have to buy you some more," he promised, going back to his work of art. She wriggled out his arms, and he pulled back to admire his handiwork. "You're gonna need a big scarf." He said, a hint of amusement in his voice. She pushed his shoulder playfully.


  "Jethro…" Her admonishment hung mid-air, and he trailed a finger over the mark. She bit on her bottom lip as his fingers curled around the back of her neck and pulled her forward, back towards him. His hips arched into hers, and her hand found its way under his shirt and gently scraped up his back. She smirked against his mouth, his hand wound into her hair. He pulled away and looked at her, her eyes wide, her lips slightly parted. It had been so long since he had seen that look from her, and he wondered why it had taken him so long to realize that he wanted this.


 She glanced towards the stairs, and he didn't miss the hint. He grabbed her hand and practically dragged her towards her bedroom. Her tug on his hand had him turning back to her. She took a step forward and pushed the jacket off his shoulders, her hands running down his arms, circling his wrists for a second before letting the jacket fall to the ground. Her hands came back up and ran across his chest before pausing at the top button. She glanced up at him as if seeking permission, and he nodded once. She undid the first one, agonizingly slowly, her fingers barely grazing his skin. The second one was just as slow, but he bit off a gasp when the cold air of the hallway hit his skin.


  He began to wonder why she was undressing him in the hallway until her hands tugged at the bottom of his shirt, evidently unable to wait anymore, and he wrenched the material over his head, pushing her jacket off before pulling her sharply and tightly against him. He hitched her up, and she automatically wrapped her legs around his waist. He walked up the stairs, trying to avoid falling back down and killing both of them, but finding it almost impossible as Jen planted kisses all over his face and pulled his earlobe into her hot mouth. He had forgotten how much he loved that, but she obviously hadn't because he felt her giggle against him. Her laugh was broken off as her back hit the wall in her bedroom, and his mouth was against the delicate skin of her neck. She wriggled out of his arms and stood on shaky legs, her fingers fumbling with his belt. Her knuckles brushed against his stomach and the muscles clenched. She bit on her bottom lip and grinned, her eyes looking down at her hands. He ran a finger down her cheek and under her chin, lifting her face up to his. 


  "You sure?" He asked, suddenly aware that he had barged his way into her home without making sure she was ready to take the step into more than friends, partners, yet again. She stared at him incredulously for a second before answering by shoving his jeans down his thighs and running a hand along the waistband of his boxers, with the tiniest hint of the nail. She grinned up at him.


 His hands ran up her sides, lifting the silk of her dress over her head. She couldn't catch her breath before she was plastered back to him, her body fitting neatly against his as his arms attempted to crush her to him. Her world spun, and he walked them both backward until the edge of her bed hit the backs of her knees, and she was forced to sit. She looked up at him, her hands pulling his hips closer to her, and she placed a kiss to his stomach, just above the elastic. His stomach dipped as her tongue darted out, tasting his skin and hands wrapped around his hips. Her fingers slid between his skin and his boxers and shoved them down his hips, her breath causing every single muscle in his body to clench.


 He wrapped his hands around her shoulders and pulled her to stand up. This was about her, not about him; he needed to show her exactly how much he had missed her. She looked confused for a second before he covered her mouth with his and lowered them onto the bed. She scooted upwards and held her arms out. He came willingly into them, loving the way she wrapped her arms and legs around him, holding him close. She arched into him, urging him to move, and he complied, slipping into her, drawing a moan from both of them. She lifted her hips, and he moved, pulling nearly out and thrusting back into her with a force that took her breath away.


  She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, and he was reminded about what started this whole thing, and he leant down and kissed her, deeply and full of promise. He had almost forgotten what it felt like to feel her come apart under him, what it sounded like when she neared climax. She fell over the edge, muscles contracting around him, pulling him crashing down alongside her, what she looked like when she was sated, a faint blush gracing her face, and snuggling into the crook in his arm. He ran a hand lazily up her arm, feeling the skin still slick under his fingers. She shifted closer and pressed a kiss just above his heart. 


 "I take it back," Gibbs said after a minute. Jenny picked her head up in confusion.


 "What?" His hand tangled in her hair again, pulling her down for another kiss.


 "I do like it when you wear lipstick."