Title: A Little NCIS Smut
Feedback address: email@example.com
Date in Calendar: 8 December 2008
Word Count: 955
Summary: And as I sit there and admire my handiwork, I think to myself ‘When you’re having this much fun, it doesn’t really matter what you call it’.
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Disclaimer: "NCIS: Naval Criminal Investigative Services," the characters, and situations depicted are the property of Belisarius Productions, Paramount Network Television Productions, Paramount Television, and CBS Television. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. This site is in no way affiliated with " NCIS: Naval Criminal Investigative Services," CBS, or any representatives of Pauley Perrette or Cote de Pablo.
Note: This is smut, which fortunately one doesn’t really need a reason for expect that one can so one does. Light BDSM nothing that will squick you, I promise.
Note 2: For my Beloved Kush, Who far from laughing at my writing fic actually encouraged me to write it.
If you asked I couldn’t tell you exactly how we ended up here. I don’t mean in the literal sense, but rather how we got from coworkers who barely tolerated each other to our current “relationship”. I put that in quotes because I’m not really sure what exactly that is either. We’re not friends; I don’t have sex with my friends, despite Tony’s continued insistence of the benefits. Lover is too romantic, and girlfriend is definitely out. All I see is silly young girls with puppy dog eyes every time someone says that. Although why I’m choosing to contemplate this at this exact moment is somewhat confusing, too.
Right now, I have Abby naked and cuffed to my bed. That’s the nice thing about playing with a Goth. The black leather always makes such a nice contrast to the pale skin and compliments the black tattoos. Especially with a black fur and leather blindfold over her eyes. It’s interesting to watch her head move back and forth, straining to pick up any sound around her that might give her some clue to what I am going to do to her.
Grabbing a brush from the assortment of items I have placed on the dresser, I start making paths over her body with it. Down her arm, across her breast, sweeping along the line of her hip and down her inner thighs. I repeat this down her other side before drawing random paths over her body. The brush is abrading her skin, leaving little pink trails in its wake. The more I brush her skin, the more complex patterns they form.
Putting the brush down I take up a piece of soft silk cloth and gently run it over the areas I have just brushed. The brushing has made her skin more sensitive, and I can see her twitch and squirm with every movement of the silk. Sometimes she lets out soft sighs, something that almost makes me think I’m with another person; they sound so different to what you would expect from the image that she gives out. It's fun to play with her like this though.
Throwing the cloth to one side, I lean down and begin to nip and bite her: neck, arms, breasts, thighs, and anywhere else I can get my teeth into. Now she’s really squirming and I have to take a firm grip to keep going. Her soft sighs have turned into sharper cries as she struggles to cope with the sensations I am giving her. Under my hands, I can feel her body trembling. Each time I pass her nipples, I stop to feast for a short while. The scrape of my teeth across them causes her back to arch up, pressing her breast into my hungry mouth. The way she reacts to my lips and teeth makes me feel almost like a musician, playing a complex piece of music on her body: each sigh, moan and cry forming part of symphony of passion. Oh god, did I really think something that cheesy?!
Moving down her body, I push her legs apart again and settle into to look at her pussy. She’s so aroused by my little games, I can see her juices flowing slowly out. Leaning in slightly, I blow some cool air onto her clit. I watch as she jumps at the sensation. I run my fingers down the outsides of her lips, watching her writhe and move, desperate to get more contact with my hand. Sometimes it really is good fun to tease. Though I think she probably thinks I’m being incredibly cruel. Assuming she’s thinking at all at this point.
Leaning in on an angle, I start to lick her clit. I can tell from the increase in the moans and the movements of her body that I’m hitting the right spot. To be honest, I’ve never understood why men find it so hard to give women good head. It’s not exactly rocket science. While I agree women are different in what they like, if you play around with different tongue movements and listen to the ‘oohs and ahhs’, its easy to figure out what works and what doesn’t. My biggest problem has been developing enough stamina to lick until she comes. Like any muscle the tongue needs training to build up endurance. Fortunately its one of the more pleasurable exercise activities I’ve experienced.
As I’m contemplating this, I start to feel the shake and short breaths that tell me she is getting ready to come soon. This is my cue to thrust my fingers inside her. There’s a sharp cry from her in response to this action, which make me smile. I can feel her warmth envelope them as I move them back and forth, keeping them in rough time with the movements of my mouth. You have to really, it gets very confusing otherwise.
The combined sensations send her up and over the edge in orgasm. She clenches hard around my fingers, and I briefly wonder if she's going to break them. A thought that is quickly overrun by the feeling of triumph I get at making her come. Which may sound a bit strange, but it’s nice after the all the time you’ve spent to get the end result you’ve wanted. And it's fun to watch Abby come. Her upper body rises high up off the bed and she spasms like someone just hit her with a very pleasurable electric shock. Then she slumps back down on the bed like a kinky Goth rag doll. And as I sit there and admire my handiwork, I think to myself ‘When you’re having this much fun, it doesn’t really matter what you call it’.