Sapphires & Emeralds
Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Fan Fiction,
Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 18 - NCIS fanfiction.An undercover assignment leads to an entanglement for NCIS. Will Abby get trapped in a web of lies? Who IS that blue-eyed stranger who sets her on fire with his touch? Gibbs and Abby pairing. Alt. Universe. Co-written with Zabby.
After pretty much running from Franks' cruelty, Abby finally made it to her sanctuary, her lab. Sighing, she hit the power for her stereo, finding a CD that fit her mood. When Airbourne Toxic Event came on, she smiled. "Perfect." Now this wouldn't be what she leave for Jet to listen to, he'd probably come undone even more. But for now, for her, it was perfect.
Moving around, she gathered everything she needed: futon, blankets, pillow, candles, sage and Bert. Going into her ballistics lab, she laid everything out, lighting the slow burning candles and sage. Fluffing up the futon and pillow, she made a bed on the ground, with Bert ready for snuggling. Jet would probably laugh at that, but Bert always helped her.
Standing back, she surveyed her work. Proud with what she'd done, what she'd readied for Jet's time for relaxation. "Now for music," she decided. Going to her rack of CDs, she started dancing to the music as she looked for something more soothing for him to listen to.
When they let him go, Jet made his way to the lab area, standing outside and listening to the pounding music. He just watched her move, aware that she was so different from him and yet he couldn't be more intrigued and more attracted. Maybe there was something to the whole "opposites attract" idea.
Somehow, Gibbs knew Shannon would have liked Abby, with her spirit and soul and her heart on her sleeve. He barely entered the room, just leaned against the wall, watching, knowing she was completely in her element here. The room suited her, even though she was fire and spirit and passion, this clinical side of her mind would be a sight to behold.
He wanted to see her monitoring the equipment, her eyes alight with discovery.
Picking up a CD of Chopin Nocturnes— not her usual music preferences, but a gift from Cynthia — she spun around in her dances moves. And then froze.
A blush stole over her features as her pigtails settled around her shoulders. "Hi," she squeaked, embarrassed, seeing Jet watching her from the doorway. "How ... um ... how long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough to be charmed," he said, not peeling himself away from the wall quite yet. "You're incredible, do you know that? How can you be so childlike one moment and such a woman the next? You fascinate me."
"Incredible?.I..." she stumbled over her words, not knowing what to say. She knew people saw her as being intelligent, unique, but incredible? Never. "I don't know, Jet. I'm just me. What could you possibly find fascinating? Most people just think I'm weird or a freak mostly. But fascinating, not so much."
Covering up her embarrassment, she went over to her music player. Popping the CD in, since she never listened to it and didn't have it on her iPod, she turned the music up in her ballistics lab. Moving back over to him, she grabbed both of his hands.
Walking backwards, she pulled him after her. "Okay, so I've set up my ballistics lab for you. A bed, candles, sage, music, a pillow and Bert. All ready for you to come back to wherever you need to. And when I leave to go give my debriefing, I'm going to lock up the lab so no one can disturb you. I'll be the only one able to get inside."
"Who is Bert? Abby, I really just want to be alone..." he began, walking into what looked like a New Age nightmare. He looked around, swallowing hard and shaking his head slowly. It must have been a forensics lab at some juncture but it wasn't any more. Now it looked like a harem from another planet.
It just underscored how different they were.
Letting go of his hands, she turned to scoop up Bert, her skirt flying around her. "Bert is my best friend," she explained, giving him a hug, which resounded in a very loud fart. "He's great for stress relieving."
Seeing his expression, she turned around and saw her lab through his eyes. Walking towards the candles, she played her hand along the edge of the table. "I know it's a lot, but I just thought it might help you calm yourself or whatever it is you need." Keeping her back to him, unable to face his rejection of what she was, she shrugged her shoulder saying, "I can get rid of it if you want. I normally don't have it out. Just keep it around in case of emergencies like this. Though there's never really been a 'like this' before..."
She was rambling — again — but his expression had her worried that she was only showing him how eccentric she really was. Abby had never been embarrassed about herself before. But suddenly, when alone with him, really alone for the first time, she almost was.
"He um..." Gibbs chuckled, shaking his head. "Did you make that yourself or was it custom made? I can't imagine there's a place for a farting hippo on the shelves." He was already starting to regain the more cultured wording of Jet Brooks but he didn't want to lose himself either. Not when she didn't even know him yet.
"It's okay," he said quietly, reassuring her. He was touched she'd gone to so much trouble for him.
"Made him myself. I had just come to NCIS and really didn't know anybody. And I went to the zoo here, trying to sort things out in my head. I found myself in front of the hippo tank, wondering why, even though they're supposed to come up for air, I never seem to see them breathe. Well, right then, Bert, that was the hippo's name, he just let some bubbles go, and not from his mouth," she explained, turning around. Leaning her head on her Bert, she squeezed again. "And he made me laugh. I knew that no matter how hard or lonely things got, that I'd always have my farting hippo to make me smile."
No one had ever asked her about Bert before. Everyone saw him as an oddity. One of many in the life of Abby Sciuto. Looking up at him, she tried to gauge his face as he seemed to become Brooks again. "Are you sure? I can put out the candles and the sage..." she offered.
"It's okay," he insisted. "Came to DC from where?" He wanted to be Jet before he had to be Brooks again. "You're not native? I've been here since..." he trailed off. "Lot of years. Grew up in Pennsylvania." Unlike Brooks who had grown up in London, Paris, summered in the French Riviera and skied Aspen and the Alps interchangeably.
He knew he was talking rapidly, trying to keep Brooks from encroaching in their time together. Why he was jealous of a person who didn't even exist was beyond him.
"New Orleans. I'm a ragin' Cajun as a song says. Complete with gumbo, jazz and a coon dog. Well, I had a coon dog. He died before I came out here." Putting Bert gently back on the bed she had made him, she walked closer, asking, "Are you Pennsylvania Dutch?"
She almost asked about family, but remembered his reaction from earlier. "Did you like that area growing up?"
He chuckled, shaking his head. "Irish from way back on Dad's side, no idea on Mom's." She'd passed away when he was very young. "Hated the area. Didn't want to be a miner. The military was my ticket out since college wasn't an option."
He left out that he'd met Shannon up there. "Signed up when I was seventeen and I never went back."
Leaning against the side counter near him, she asked, "Was your father a miner then? Why wasn't college an option?"
Her fingers itched to touch him, just to brush his hair back a little. But she stopped herself, knowing that this time for talking was just as rare as their time for other ... recreational activities. To distract herself, she just kept asking questions. "You haven't been back home?"
"Yeah. Dad was a miner first then he opened up a store. Too many close calls." And Gibbs' mother had been sick at the time. He didn't know why he was opening up to this stranger. Maybe it was his vulnerability. Maybe it was the situation. Maybe it was all of it.
He shrugged, remembering the discussions about how they couldn't afford college, how he should just go into the mines and save up slowly. "Just wasn't affordable." Not even Penn State, where he could have easily been accepted.
Then he'd met Shannon, who came from a hell of a lot more than he had. "Military schooled me." In more ways than one. He'd taken his share of classes, but they'd also taught him how to be a man. "Haven't been home since the day I left. He's ... my father's been to DC a few times." But not since the funeral.
Hopping onto the counter, she smoothed her skirt over her thighs. "You seem to fit my idea of a military man fairly well, except for the hair of course, despite how easily you blend into the richer crowd. Why'd you choose the Marines?"
"Hair was shorter but they made me grow out a bit." It was too long for him even though he knew by anyone else's estimation it was short." He didn't know how to explain the Marine mentality. "The Marines are a state of mind. You don't choose the Marines, you just fit. I wasn't interested in Air Force or Navy, thought about Army, but the Marines and I were a good fit. Perfect fit. Sometimes you just know. Like you and me."
She nodded in understanding, guessing it was rather like her and forensics, how a girl who looked like her was at home amongst a bunch of equipment. "We fit, huh? How so? Like a silver fox and an ink maiden? Like peanut butter and chocolate?" She held out her hands, wanting him to move nearer to her.
"Silver fox, huh? Old man lusting after a much younger woman." He had no idea how old she was but he had to be closer to the age of her parents than her own age. "Yeah, we're like a peanut butter cup. Tasty and can't have just a little sample."
He didn't know how to describe how they fit. They just did.
"You're not too old. Not for me." Knowing they had a few minutes until she was needed with the directors, Abby was tempted to tantalize Jet a little more. Pulling him towards her, she settled him between her legs, her bare thighs coming in contact with his body. "Can't just have a little taste?" she asked.
He crouched a little and anchored her hips on top of his. "Does that feel like I want a little taste? I want to bend you over and take you here. I want to make you scream. I want you to forget who we are and just feel."
Clinging to his shoulders, she moaned, "No, that doesn't feel little at all. God, I've been waiting all day to feel you there, Jet. Since the first moment you looked at me. Since even before we met, I've been waiting. I've been waiting forever."
He was so damn hard again and he couldn't resist thrusting against her. "Your friends aren't here to save the day now. Are we on DVD here?"
Rolling her hips against him, she replied, "No friends. No surveillance. Just Bert," she teased, using her head to gesture to her hippo.
He reached under her skirt, tapping once where she was moist and hot. "I need you ... but not here. Not this way. In a bed where we can take our time and I can worship you like you deserve to be worshipped."
He wasn't sure he'd been waiting forever for her, but definitely since he'd lost Shannon. "The first time is always special, Abby. Doesn't need to be rushed."
She almost came when he touched her, when he flicked against her moistened panties. But when he took his hand away, she pouted. "I can't tempt you?" she asked hopefully. "Even a little?" she said, wiggling her eyebrows.
Probably laid it on too thick with that 'forever' line, Sciuto. Leaning forward, she rested her forehead against his, even as her body moved against him, trying to find friction, trying to tempt him to let go. "Pretty sure each time with you will be special, Fox."
"No, you can't tempt me. Means too much to me for a little ache to ruin." Big ache! He brought his hand closer, scenting her, closing his eyes. "Pretty sure you're gonna be the death of an old man, Inky."
When he smelled his fingers, smelled her scent on them, Abby bit her lower lip as a wave of desire crashed through her. "Serves me right to try and tempt a Marine," she said, groaning.
He found a stool and sat down on it, pulling her firmly onto his lap, legs splayed out to either side of his and her pelvis tipped against his, driving them together. "Let go, Abby. I want to watch you let go." That said and throwing all caution to the wind, he held her hips and rubbed her core over his firmly, guiding her over him in rapid motions. If his self control held out, he might not ruin his pants, but he needed her to fall over the edge for him. Now.
"No death, Fox. Only hours and hours of pleasure," she assured him. Following after him, she moaned as he settled her straddling his lap. "Finally, not enough, Jet, not even close, but finally," she said, rubbing along his length. But then he was taking a hold of her hips, driving their bodies together, the friction overwhelming her.
Tossing her head back, she felt her body climbing higher and higher. "Jet," she cried, "Oh God, yes ... oh, yes."
He barely held on to his self control as she threw her head back, riding his body, using his body for her pleasure. "That's right, Inky, Let it happen." That she was giving him control was its own turn on and he rubbed her harder and faster, determined to pull it out of her.
He lowered his head, working the tightened crest of a nipple into his mouth as she cried his name, biting down lightly as he felt her stiffen and then shake.
She was amazed and flushed, not used to someone desperate for her to seek release. And then she was flying, her body tingling as her orgasm flew her up into the sky. As she slowly regained herself, Abby slumped against him, drained from Jet's attentions.
With a chuckle, he eased her off him and onto the chair. He needed a bathroom or he was going to make a mess. "Bathroom?" he asked her, eyes wild, fighting what he needed.
"Nuh uh," she countered. "You don't get away that easily. I may not be able to tempt you, but you're not running away from me. Not after that." Grabbing his belt, she pulled him to her. "I may not get to have you thrusting inside of me, but I'm going to have you one way or the other."
Keeping her eyes on him, she undid his belt and pants. Pushing his pants and underwear down around his ankles, she gave him an evil grin. As she lowered her eyes, her hands moving up his legs, she gasped at the display in front of her. "Mmm..." she moaned, trailing her hand along his length.
"Don't tease me," he growled. He knew he should push away, to stumble off and find a bathroom, but he was too close to being gone with her hand on him. "You like?" he asked, surrendering, his body moving into her hand. He wanted to tell her that his was the only one she'd ever see or need, but that was too arrogant for this moment. And he wouldn't lose this moment for anything.
He wasn't going to be able to hold off very long and he was going to disappoint the hell out of her.
"Not teasing, Jet. Never teasing. And yes, I like ... very much," she groaned before licking at the drop of pre-cum glistening in front of her. One hand clasped around the base of his cock, the other wrapped around to anchor herself by grabbing onto his ass. Lowering her head, she licked up his length, before lowering her head to swallow him deep.
Moaning against the rigid flesh in her mouth, she started to bob her head slowly, licking her tongue around the veins and ridges.
"Abby, this is gonna be a sprint and not a marathon." Even saying that took too much concentration and he started to lose control. His body was shaking and he was constricted by his pants around his ankles, which was a damned good thing because otherwise he would be driving himself into her heat.
He brought his hand to his mouth, tasting her. "Can't wait to devour you," he whispered, and with her flavor in his mouth, he started shaking unable to hold back any more. "Abby..." he whispered as his body started shivering harder, his balls drawing up.
Feeling his body tense up, hearing his moan, Abby increased her motions, making little noises in the back of her throat. And then his release came gushing into her mouth as she swallowed everything he gave her. Sucking and licking him clean, she only let him go when she was done, still pumping him slowly, wanting his orgasm to drag out.
Making sure she got every last drop, she looked up at him and smiled her evil little grin, pleased that in the end she had almost gotten her way after all.
"Oh hell," he managed, barely able to stand on his own. It had been a while—a damn long while. He'd been on two back to back ops and had only trusted his hand for company. "Find me a place to lie down before I collapse," he managed, the aftershocks ripping through him.
Arching an eyebrow, she grabbed his pants and pulled them up around his waist. "It's a good thing I made up the futon?" she teased as she led him to the bed on the floor. Forcing him to lie down, she stretched out next to him, propping her head on her hand. Watching him, she caressed his face, saying, "I'm that good, huh?" not really believing it.