consent is important in all sexual relationships, kiddos, I'm figuring this is still tame enough that there's as yet no need for a safe word other than "stop". still playing in the incredibly tame area of the kinkdom (though this did end up significantly more D/s than I had intended [blame the characters. I do.]).

warning for foot fetishism type of things.

Gibbs looks up as he enters the bullpen. She's taken up her usual position on the catwalk, forearms resting on the rails, body slightly bent. He tries not to think about how incredibly easy it would be to just slip into her from behind (the whole bullpen watching as he claimed her for his own).

She looks over at him as though she can sense him watching. She holds his gaze and lifts a hand to her neck, rubbing it innocently as she bites her lip.

"Fuck" he swears under his breath, glad that by this point he's seated with his desk covering his crotch.

She may be wearing a turtleneck (has been for the past week) but he is very aware of just where she was pressing her hand. (He can remember the feeling of marking her there as though it was mere seconds ago).

"Boss." Tony's voice breaks into his haze of memory and he snaps his gaze away from Jen to look at his protege. "Just heard from Metro PD. They spotted Mr. Jones entering a building on K street."

"Go. Take Ziva." At his command DiNozzo scrambles to his feet, grabbing his gear and booking it to the elevators, Ziva at his heels.

Gibbs glances up but Jen's gone, retreated into her office, he's sure. He turns his attention to McGee, who stumbles over his words before telling Gibbs he'll be in Abby's lab.

His team dispersed, Gibbs strides over to the stairs, bounding up them and walking quickly past Cynthia's desk (her demands he stop fall unheard on the door he throws open and then slams behind him.

She is unperturbed by his forceful entry, rather she greets him,

"Good morning Jethro," while she turns her chair to the side and crosses her legs slowly, his gaze following the lengths of her long, pale legs. After a moment he turns his gaze back to her.

"Shoes must hurt." She arches one brow, her gaze steady, fully aware that any and all interest he may have in her shoes would never be anything short of prurient.

"What are you suggesting, Jethro?'

"Can't a guy just sit down and give a foot rub to his old partner?" She doesn't reply. She stands (ensures he's able to see down her shirt as she bends over her desk) and tells Cynthia she and 'Agent Gibbs' are not to be disturbed before she strides to the couch.

"Lock the door, Jethro." He may be the one about to rub her feet but she's in control this time (and she's going to make damn well sure he knows it). He does as she asks but his little half smirk tells her that he may not be so amenable to relinquishing the upper hand. (She's always enjoyed a good fight).

She sits leaning back against the arm, her legs stretching along the length of the couch and he takes a seat on the far side.

Jethro pulls her feet into his lap. He slips her shoes off slowly and lets the astronomically expensive pumps fall to the ground.

He begins to massage her feet slowly. He's as good at it as she remembers (maybe better) and she exults in the pleasure washing over her, watching him intently as he works. He looks up, his incredibly blue eyes meeting hers. They maintain eye contact as he pulls her toes into his mouth, one by one, sucking on them and rejoicing as she thrashes on the couch before him.

Before his hands can move on from the exquisite foot massage to dance up her legs to the cunt he knows must be as wet as he is hard, the foot he's not currently holding shifts in his lap.

At first he thinks it just a twitch-a reaction to the pleasure he's causing. He soon realises that it's nothing of the sort. Jen is moving her foot in a very deliberate way, rubbing Jethro's cock through his pants with a touch that is all tease (never quite enough pressure to get a good rhythm going). He groans and bucks up into the arch of her soft, pale foot.

"Fuck. Jen!" He gives up all pretense of the massage, gripping his knees instead, a helpless thrall to her ministrations. She continues her slow perusal of his lap with her feet, loving the sight of Jethro losing himself in the sensations she's causing.

Jenny wouldn't say she won because, well, that would be crass and in these games there's no real loser, but she's in control now and she pauses for a moment to observe just how much she enjoys that. Enjoys knowing she could go back to work at any moment, leaving Jethro to sit on her couch battling his arousal until she took pity on him or he got himself under enough of control to return to his job (he once left her trussed up in Paris for a good hour, keeping her constantly on the edge but never quite letting her come).

But today she's decided to be nice (in relative terms).

"That must be quite uncomfortable" she eyes the bulge in his pants, knowing full well his cock must be straining against the confines of his briefs.

He almost moves.

It's been a long time and they'd never done this at NCIS and he almost moves.

At the last moment, he remembers. His hands stay in place and he looks up at Jen

"May I?" She remains impassive. "Please." She grins openly at the word, so rarely uttered by the infamous Leroy Jethro Gibbs (though she does wonder, privately, how many other women he's been with that have teased it from him in similar situations). Still she holds off for a few beats, gives his cock one last caress.

"You may."

Jethro's hands fly to the closure of his pants, opening them quickly and threading his cock out. He sighs in relief at the release of pressure.

"Hands" she murmurs and she may as well have been pointing a gun at him because he dutifully raises his hands to clasp the back of his head in the classic position of surrender.

Jenny's never been the type of Domme to disparage eye contact and she's glad that Jethro has apparently remembered, because he holds her gaze as she returns her feet to his lap. His heavy breathing is music to her ears; she's missed the sound of him trying to control himself. She traps his cock between her feet, rubbing it gently, agonisingly slowly, her toes playing gently with the tip.

"Oh fuck. Jen. God, Jen." While the salacious effect of silence should not be discounted, with Jethro she feels all the more powerful for making him talk. "Please."

There it is again. That word.

She applies a slight amount more pressure, twisting her feet just so and he's coming, his whole body shuddering with the effects, and his semen coating her feet.

She doesn't move as he regains his focus, his breathing evening out. She maintains her position as he begins to tidy up, though when he makes a grab for the box of tissues sitting nearby she makes a low, throaty tsk-ing sound (really he should know better). She's still in control and this particular scene isn't done yet so she looks on proudly when Jethro leans his head down to her feet and begins to lick his come away. Once her feet are clean he stands, returning his clothing to some semblance of order and starts edging towards the door.

Jen doubts anyone would be quicker to avoid the awkward post-coital talk of 'we just kinda did it at work' than Jethro. However he does seem to be forgetting one, rather crucial, thing.

"Marine." He turns, the conditioning of replying to that address is something you never quite forget. She turns so that her feet are both now firmly planted on the ground, but they're spread enough (and her skirt has been hiked high enough) that she's fairly certain he can see the dark green lace thong she's wearing. "I thought you never left a man behind." (Her shrug is casual, the look in her eyes anything but). "Or a woman, in this case."

She grins wide as he kneels at her feet and ducks his head between her legs. He doesn't waste any time with foreplay (they do both have jobs they should be doing, after all) just uses a hand to pull the scrap of lace she's calling underwear aside and dives his tongue into her slit, dragging it up the length of her dripping cunt, his teeth grazing her clit gently as his tongue begins to lap at it. His strokes are quick and it takes barely any time before she's coming hard, her thighs trembling and her fingers digging into his scalp as her hands grasp for purchase.

reviews are always appreciated, I'd love to hear what you folks think.