Disclaimer: I do not own anything from NCIS or Belisarius Productions, nor am I making any money on this. Darn.
Spoiler: This story takes place on the late evening of the last day of 'Blood Bath'.
Caution: This story contains Adult themes, nudity and depictions of promised bondage, role play and consensual intercourse. Rated R. This is an Adult story. No minors, no children.
Tag: While hiding Abby Sciuto in his apartment, protecting her from Mikel Mawher, Tim McGee made Abby a promise. And he is a

Man of his Word
By: JMK758
Chapter One
Captive

'You do not open this door for anyone, or I will tie you up,' Tim had warned her after she'd broken protection by opening it, an idea that pleased her considerably. They had a long standing relationship, had lived together for a time, and though she had agreed to his idea she pushed the boundary with him again by immediately breaking her promise a second time. She'd spent the entire evening in only small inspiring 'see-through' top and tiny tight panties, shooting down his so-gallant idea of his using a sleeping bag, determined to get him into bed, actually pressing her reminder 'we're adults, we can share the same bed'. When he'd told her he would tie her up, she'd been thrilled that she'd finally gotten through to him, and when he'd knocked again she'd thought he was testing her and had run to the door, determined to fail and pay his price. Sadly, it was the second violation of his instructions that had put her in danger.

However, all had worked out well in the end. Abby was saved, the bad guys have been put away - for good this time - and Mike Mawher isn't going to be in a position to stalk or harm her again. All was well that ended well.

When the team regrouped in the Squad Room at NCIS Headquarters, and final reports had been filed, it was late on that Friday afternoon. Abby had been traumatized by two full days of stalking and attempts upon her life, so Leroy Gibbs turned her loose at the earliest opportunity.

She's immensely grateful. She hadn't even had the chance to change back into her (ab)normal attire, so she's still wearing the pink outfit she'd worn to Court for the shocking dénouement to this case.

x

Tim McGee, unnoticed by the others, contrives to leave at the same time and so he manages to walk next to Abby down the steps to the garage. She hadn't wanted to take the elevator, feeling she had exhausted her supply of luck in it that previous day.

"Thank God that's over," Abby declares to the man walking on her left. "If I had to-" She looks to him and catches the angle of his eyes directed quite a bit lower than her own, and glances down. She normally wouldn't be caught dead in a pink jacket, short skirt and white blouse, but his eyes are firmly locked into the gap between the blouse's buttons. "McGee!" she cries, outraged. "Stop staring at my boob!"

x

She hits him in the chest with the back of her left fist and his foot misses the step, slips off the edge of it. He falls with a loud thump on the staircase, his leg twisting up under him as he clutches for the railing, unable to keep from crying out in sharp pain.

"McGee! I'm sorry!" she exclaims, grabbing him before he can tumble down the last steps.

"It's all right," he tells her when it's clear he's not going to fall further, and tries to get up. "It's all right, I shouldn't have been ah!" He tries to bite back a sharp exclamation as his foot gives way and he clutches the railing. He keeps his mouth clamped shut, but no amount of self restraint can keep the agonized expression from his face.

"Your ankle?"

He nods sharply. "Oh, yeah." He tries to put a bit of weight upon it and draws back quickly, choking back a sharp cry. They're six steps from the bottom of the stairs and he looks back up at the mountain behind them.

"I can help you back up." He shakes his head. "I can get some ice. You'll have to have that taken care of."

"No, it's okay," but the protest is a sharp gasp she doesn't believe. "I just want to get home. I have some Epsom salts there."

"Tim-"

"Abby, it's all right." He tries to take a step down to the floor and his breath hisses out sharply. "I'll never be able to drive," he admits, hating to show her how badly he feels. If an apology is a sign of weakness to be avoided, what's not being able to take a step toward his car?

"Well, come on. If you insist on going home, I can drive you." She draws his arm across her shoulders. Trying to avoid putting too much weight upon her until she actually tugs his arm harder onto herself, he eventually manages to hobble to his car and seat himself in the passenger side. "Thank you," he gasps, easing his leg in.

When she comes around to the driver's side, she takes his keys but doesn't start the vehicle. "McGee, you really should have someone look at tha–"

"Like Ducky? I'm not that wounded." She glares at him, not liking that he could joke. The way his leg had gone under him– "Abby, please, I'll be fine."

He doesn't sound or look 'fine', but she puts the key into the ignition and turns on the motor. "Macho man," she mutters.

xxx

It's further to Silver Spring, far to the north, than to her apartment but he has an elevator while she's at the top of a four story walk-up. It's when she's helping him down the corridor to his apartment that she sees how badly stiffened his foot is, but once again he rebuffs her effort to talk him into getting medical help. "You need professional help," she tells him, her tone making it quite clear she's referring to the opposite end from his foot.

He tries not to lean too much of his weight onto the smaller woman; only with high heeled slippers does she reach his six foot one height. Finally, however, she gets him into his apartment, through the main room, beyond his computer workstation and into the bedroom.

The bedroom holds just a king-size bed and a few dressers, the bed bigger than the one she remembered from his first weeks in DC. She occasionally thought that it was entirely too large for a single man living alone, except that she knew he 'entertained' on occasion, so she figured the extra size was going to good use.

Occasionally she thought of herself in that large bed. She had blatantly offered yesterday when he was setting up a sleeping bag for his own use; 'Come on, Tim, we're both adults,' she had said. 'We can share a bed.' But Mawher's interruption had ruined that chance for her to find out how comfortable this bed was when she wasn't in it alone.

x

Setting him down on the edge of the red covered bed, she starts for his bathroom beyond. "Epsom salts in the cabinet under the sink?" she asks.

"Yes," he tells her in a strained voice.

Of course they would be. Everyone keeps them there.

Entering the smaller room, she looks under the sink and finds the box. Pulling it out, she looks around for a tub or bucket, but finds nothing. She does, however, find a hanger on the shower rod, and remembers that her two hundred dollar suit is 'dry clean only'. Stripping off the jacket so she won't risk damage to the sleeves, she hangs it up on the bar, now clad only in white blouse and pink miniskirt as well as matching high heeled shoes.

Picking up the salts box, she steps out to the bedroom. "McGee, you got a tub or bu–?" She halts. "McGee?"

He's gone.

x

She cries out, shocked as she turns and he's behind her. He grabs her arms, the box falls to the floor as he pulls her hands together and wraps his grey and white striped tie rapidly around her wrists, pinning them tightly. She's so incredulous he has the material knotted before she can move.

"McGee!" she exclaims, both surprised and as he starts pushing her backward! She can get no traction on her high heels as he forces her backward to the bed and down upon it.

x

Too late Abby realizes that he shouldn't have been able to take a step, let alone force her onto her back. He'd faked the injury. She can't stop him as he gets onto the bed above her, straddles her ribs and forces her tightly bound wrists to the brass headboard of the large bed and ties the material tightly.

"McGee - what are you doing?" Only then does she realize the monumental stupidity of her shocked cry. It's not like they haven't done this before. She can't pull free, and definitely doesn't want to.

"Keeping my promise," he says as he gets off her, takes a brown paper bag from the dresser beside the bed and pulls out a long white cotton rope that he ties to something on the side of the bed, tosses across her stomach and off the other edge of the bed. Coming around the bottom quickly, he catches up the rope and slips it through a concealed ring, pulls tightly as the rope cinches across her stomach, holding her down.

She cries out as the rope immobilizes her from her waist up. Working rapidly as she stares, not scared despite his surprise, he draws several black leather straps and lengths of white cotton rope from the bag.

"What promise?" she asks, half amused that he hadn't settled with her earlier. She would have. She's certainly not afraid, she's never been afraid of Tim McGee, but the last time they'd done this it was well planned. This time it's spontaneous and she determines to enjoy it to the full.

x

"I told you that if you opened the door again, I would tie you up," he tells her far too reasonably for the situation. She pulls at the tie binding her wrists below the headboard but he'd done his work well. She hates being able to slip free, but she'd taught him a lot of tricks.

Her heart pounds. It had seemed a delightful prospect last night, one that had sent her running back to the door when 'he'd' knocked, just to see if he would carry out his threat, but now they're at it. "Yeah, but, well, isn't it a little too late for that?" she asks with a smile, but she already knows she is not talking her way out of this session. She's been bad – yet she continues to play the 'helpless victim'. "I mean, Mawher's put away, Terry Nichols is away; I'm safe."

But lying on his bed with her hands tied over her head and a rope tight across her stomach she doesn't feel safe at all. He'd promised, she'd accepted and now he's going to do it! He's going to do exactly what he'd promised!

He comes back to the bed and deposits the leather straps and ropes beside her.

x

"So okay, so I'm tied up. A little late but-" Maybe not too late after all. It was the thought that he'd actually tie her up that had sent her scurrying across the room - and into trouble - last night.

He smiles, reaches down to the hem of her skirt, and slowly lifts it upward.

"McGee!"

He raises her skirt, lets it fall in neat layers four inches wide up and down over her waistband, leaving her bare below her waist except for her white panties.

"McGee!" she exclaims again, playing her role as he grasps the elastic of her panties and starts to pull the material down, first over the curves of her derrière, then off her hips.

She'd spent last evening cavorting in her tiny black 'Bone' tee shirt and panties, hoping to inspire him to jump hers.

Now he's finally going to do it!

x

Abby gasps, pressing her legs together. She'd dreamed of this in the privacy of her coffin, missing their play, and now... Even as he pulls her panties down her legs, over her pink high heels and tosses them to the floor she presses her legs tightly together even harder in an effort to cut his view, knowing it's hopeless. She'll play the role, but in the end she'll be sure they both win. After all, he can see enough despite her 'efforts', and when she sees his tented pants she knows her fate.

"Wow," he breathes. "That's a surprise."

x

She knows all too well what's stopped him as he drinks in the sight of her. Months ago, on a whim, she'd shaved herself completely and visited a tattoo artist; nothing new for her, except that she had asked him to inscribe, on her pubis, the outline of a bat.

It had been an incredible experience; the pain on her ultra-sensitive flesh that was never meant to be touched by a needle was shocking - and more than a little erotic.

The flying bat is three inches from wingtip to wingtip, and she had to keep the area closely shaven and particularly cared for for several days, but after it healed and her pubic hair started to grow back in, she used regular and careful attention to keep the growth only 'within the lines', so that what she shows to her fellow Agent is a small furry black bat flying above her intimate 'batcave'.

x

He hesitates a moment in taking in this discovery, then he pets her bat's fur.

"Stop it!" she cries, her heart pounding. She can't say 'take me', not yet, not if she's the helpless victim of her former boyfriend's lust. She presses her legs closer together, the tease heavy, not trying to hide herself but her moisture! Though her favorite thing is to attempt to seduce him; she enjoys when he forcibly strips her, playing the conqueror. She's naked from the waist down, and if she showed too soon what this is doing to her she'd ruin everything.

Does he know what he's doing to her? Of course he does. He must even be able to hear the loud drumbeat of her racing heart. Last night it was an offer and a dream, now the dream is real and she feels the touch of his eyes - though he can't possibly see it yet - in her tingling, moistening labia.

She yanks at the tie that holds her hands over her head, but can't free herself. She wants to free herself - to touch - but she's under his control.

"McGee, this isn't–! Let me go!"

This is fun.

x

He reaches for two of the leather straps, which she sees have a single silver ring firmly attached to each and she tries to kick, to prevent him from capturing her leg but it's hopeless. He climbs upon the bed, back to her, snares her left ankle, straddles her leg to trap it and quickly secures the leather. His legs along her thighs send flares up her legs to her now defenseless vulva.

He's vulnerable in this position, and she fantasizes kicking him but that's not part of the game. He's never going to hurt her - and what he's doing to her increasingly helpless body is making her so...!

He captures her right leg and pins it beside her left between his legs. He fastens the second strap securely to her ankle.

x

"No!" she exclaims uselessly, still the virginal victim, and he reaches beside himself for the long white cotton ropes. She can't see his hands but by feeling she knows exactly what he's doing; he's drawing one of the white ropes through the ring and securing it tightly, then doing the same thing to her other ankle.

Getting off her legs, he holds tightly to the rope securing her left ankle. She fights back a smile as she pulls hard, writhes upon the bed, fights him, kicks with her right foot but nothing can break his grip. She won't let it. He bends over, runs the rope about the foot of the bed and pulls hard.

"No!" Her heart slams as she struggles against his vastly greater strength. He's going to do whatever he wants – whatever she wants – and with her arms bound over her head, the tight rope cinching her stomach holding her down, she can't stop him!

He pulls her leg tight, her pink slippered foot pointing to the corner of the wide bed. He comes around the base of the king size mattress and she feels his eyes possess her exposed, closely shaven and vulnerable crotch as she kicks wildly to keep him from grabbing her.

Can't make it too easy.

He easily catches the long flailing rope, passes the end around the foot of the bed, stands and with a grin of evil anticipation plays her like an angler gradually reeling in a special prize.

He pulls her open, slowly open, gradually wider and she feels his eyes do terrible things to her moist, soft and vulnerable lips.

She fights him for every inch, but loses slack by the moment, pulled wider to the far corner, feeling her labia actually opening to her captor until, too tired from the effort, she's pulled tight, her legs splayed wide. He knots the rope about the bed foot and stands, his eyes raking her half-nude body, her widely spread legs, her shaven bare and defenseless vulva.

x

"Tim, please! PLEASE! Don't do this!" She writhes on the bed, her hips and torso limited by the tight rope across her stomach pinning her down, helpless against his power. She has to fight to sound scared, but it adds spice. "Please, Tim, I'm just a helpless woman. Don't force me." The rope pins her white blouse to her, pulling the material hard down against her breasts that seem to stand at horrible attention in her bra. "Let me go! Please! I PROMISE I won't tell anyone! Please - let me go!"

In her lonely coffin she's dreamed and longed for and needed this, maybe not this exact play but she loves it when he shows some force. He's stares up the V of her widely spread thighs, smiling in erotic anticipation. She feels his burning eyes caress her lips. It almost feels like he could open her wide with his hot gaze.

"Tim please!" She can feel his eyes invading her, his gaze locked deeply into her soft…. "Tim, please, I'm begging you!"

But her words hide exactly what she's begging for.