Kink fic meme: Striptease.

Kensi had a thing for blood and bruises.

Not that she wanted to be the source of them unless it was absolutely necessary. She was a sweetheart deep down - romantic movies, flowers, home-cooked meals, even bubble baths. But she liked men, strong men. If anyone asked for her favorite scent on a man, she would answer testosterone. A letterman jacket in the halls of her high school meant nothing to her, but a sweaty face with the beginnings of a black eye after a hard fought football game? Hell yeah. A Marine returning home from war in uniform with battle scars but a strong smile on his face? Sign her up.

An LAPD Detective that had gone round for round with a bomb wielding psychopath, emerging from the (literal) ashes with a bloody grin that screamed "you should see the other guy"? Words could not even begin to express those feelings.

Words still couldn't express them. The situation was different this time. This wasn't just some hot guy. Deeks was her lover, her housemate. When the adrenaline wore off, she was the one who was supposed to be there for him. Mentally he was great, but physically not so much.

"You're so dirty," she blurted out after a long silent drive home.

With a cocked eyebrow and one arm slung over her shoulder, she unnecessarily helped him up the stairs to his, their, bedroom. "You don't usually complain about that," he countered.

"I mean, you could use a shower." Kensi exhaled and nudged the bedroom door open with her boot. "You're filthy."

"Again, not usually a-"

"Shut up," she hissed, avoiding eye contact as she slinked away from him and into the bathroom. The showerhead sprayed her arm with cold water, a nice contrast to her otherwise flushed skin. Now was not the time for inappropriate thoughts about her boyfriend. He was bruised and bleeding, for God's sake.

Deeks crept into the bathroom behind her, murmuring a soft thank you before reaching for the collar of his shirt. Time slowed for a moment, his guttural grimace like a song to her ears as he gently removed his shirt inch by inch. Of course the process appeared to take forever because his muscles were screaming, and his skin burned from the deep scratches covering his body. It still remained hard for Kensi to focus on his pain, and not the way his abdomen flinched in accord with his face, or the ripple of his pecs and hardening of his nipples when exposed to the cool air. Red patches with just the faintest tinge of blue peppered the skin of his chest and arms. Those would hurt far worse than the scratches tomorrow.

He placed his shirt in her hands and flicked open his belt, inching it from his pants and rolling it up tight. He raised his tired eyes to hers and dropped the leather on top of his shirt. There was one request he asked of her when she moved in with him - clothes belonged in the closet, not the bed or couch or refrigerator. She stood in between him and the closet, so it seemed he expected her to put his dirty clothes where they belonged. Moving wasn't really in the cards for her at the moment, though, especially not with his thumb popping open the button of his jeans. The sound of his zipper sliced through the steam before heavy denim hit the tile floor.

Licking her dry lips, she bent down and gathered his pants, and seconds later his boxers. The large bruise already forming on his calf did little to help her current situation of guilty arousal. She could feel his eyes boring into the back of her head, like he knew what was going through her mind. If he did, she was sure he took immense pleasure from knowing he could quite literally bring her to knees. Under normal circumstances, she'd curse him and play it off as nothing, but she'd allow him to have the upper hand this time. After all, he risked his life to save hundreds of people today.

She cleared her throat and stood as he opened the shower door, just barely squeezing between her and the glass without touching either one. The door slammed shut and she sighed, leaning her butt against the counter. The clothes in her arms smelled of fire and sweat and Deeks, and it would have been repulsive if the scents were anything but him. Instead it was heaven, a reminder that despite the blood, they'd made it through another day. That should have been in the forefront of her mind, not her uncontrollable horniness around hot, beaten men.

"God, I should be ashamed," she muttered to herself, shaking her head.

The shower door cracked ajar and a dripping wet head poked out. Deeks looked at her quizzically, then swung the door open. "You coming?"

Her eyes widened, staring at the water cascading off of his muscles. "Yup," she squeaked, hurling his clothes and then her own into the closet. "And probably in record time."