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'.
Tag: When taking Abby Sciuto to his apartment and protecting her from Mike Mower; Tim McGee made Abby a promise. And he is a

Man of his Word
By: Phantom69781

‘You do not open this door for anyone, or I will tie you up.' Tim had warned her, and though she had agreed she broke her promise – twice. Sadly, it was the second violation of that restriction that had put her in danger.

However, all had worked out well in the end. Abby was saved, the bad guys had been put away – for good this time – and Mike Mower was not going to be in a position to stalk or harm Abby again for a long, long time. All was well that ended well.

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

She was immensely grateful. She had not even had the chance to change back into her (ab)normal attire, so she was still wearing the pink formal outfit she had worn to Court at the start of the shocking dénouement to this case.

Tim McGee, unnoticed by the others, contrived to leave at the same time, and so he managed to be casually walking next to Abby down the steps to the garage. (She had not wanted to take the elevator, feeling she had exhausted her supply of luck in it that previous day.)

"Thank God that's over." Abby declared to the man walking down the steps on her left. "If I had to –" She looked at him, caught the angle of his eyes directed quite a bit lower than the level of her own, and glanced down. She normally would not be caught dead in a pink jacket and short skirt and white blouse, but his eyes were firmly locked on the gap between the blouse's buttons. "McGee!" She cried, outraged. "Stop staring at my boob!"

She hit him in the chest with the back of her left fist and his foot missed the step, slipping off the edge of it. He went down with a loud clatter on the metal staircase, his leg twisting up under him as he clutched desperately for the railing, unable to keep from crying out in sharp pain. "Oh, McGee, I'm sorry." She exclaimed, grabbing him before he could tumble down the last steps.

"It's all right." He told her when it was clear he was not going to fall further, and tried to get up. "It's all right, I shouldn't have been *ah*." He tried to bite back a sharp exclamation of pain as his foot gave way and he clutched the railing more desperately. He kept his mouth clamped shut, but no amount of self restraint could keep the agonized expression from his face.

"Your ankle?"

He nodded sharply. "Oh, yeah." He tried to put a bit of weight upon it and drew back quickly, choking back a sharp sound. They were about two steps from the bottom of the stairs, and he looked back up at the mountain behind them.

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

"No, it's okay. I just want to get home. I have some Epsom salts there."

"Tim-."

"Abby, it's all right." He tried to take a step down to the floor, and his breath hissed out sharply. "I'll never be able to drive." He admitted.

"Well, come on. If you insist on going home, I can drive you." She drew his arm across her shoulders and, leaning his weight upon her, he managed to get to his car, and seat himself in the passenger side, easing his leg in. When she came around to the driver's side, he passed her the keys. "McGee, you really should let me put some –."

"Abby, please. I'll be fine."

He did not sound or look ‘fine', but she put the key into the ignition anyway and turned over the motor. "Macho man." She muttered.

oooo

It was only twenty minutes later that she was helping him down the corridor to his apartment. He tried not to lean too much of his weight onto the smaller woman; even with high heeled slippers she did not come up to his six foot height. Finally, however, she got him into his apartment, through the main room and into the bedroom beyond his computer workstation.

The bedroom held just a king-size bed and a few dressers. She occasionally thought that the bed 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. We can share a bed.' But nothing had come of it.

Setting him down on the edge of the red covered bed, she started for his bathroom beyond. "Epsom salts in the cabinet under the sink?" She asked. Of course. Everybody kept it there.

"Yes." He told her in a strained voice as he tried to hide his pain. Entering the smaller room, she looked under the sink, finding the box. Bringing it out, she looked around for a tub or bucket, but found nothing. She did, however, find a hanger on the shower rod, and remembered that her two hundred dollar suit was ‘dry clean only'. Stripping off the jacket so she would not risk damage to the sleeves, she hung it up on the bar, now clad only in white blouse and pink miniskirt as well as matching high heeled shoes. Picking up the box, she started out to the bedroom.

"McGee, you got a tub or bu-?" As she crossed into the room he was not on the edge of the bed, and she cried out in startled shock as he came from beside the door, grabbed her arms, the box falling to the floor as he pulled her wrists together and wrapped his grey and white striped tie rapidly around her wrists, pinning them tightly as he knotted the material before she could even move! "McGee!" She exclaimed, shocked as he started pushing her backward; she could get no traction on her high heels as he walked her backward to the bed and forced her down upon it.

Too late she realized that he should not have been able to take a step, let alone force her onto her back; that he had faked the entire injury even as he was getting onto the bed above her, straddling her ribs and forcing her tightly bound wrists to the brass headboard of the large bed and tying the material tightly. She could not pull free, and was even too startled by his forcefulness to scream. "McGee, what the hell are you doing?"

"Keeping my promise." He got off her, and bent down, coming back with a white rope that he tossed across her body and off the other edge of the bed. Coming around the bottom quickly, he caught the rope up and slipped it through a concealed ring, pulling tightly as the rope cinched across her stomach, holding her down. She cried out as the rope pinned her down, immobilizing her from her waist up. Then he went to the dresser beside the bed, opening a brown paper bag set upon it. She stared in disbelief, too stunned to be scared despite his shocking behavior, as he drew several black leather straps from the bag, and several more lengths of white cotton rope.

"What promise?"

"I told you that if you opened the door again, I would tie you up."

"Yeah, but, well, isn't it a little too late for that? I mean, Mower's put away, Terry Nichols is away; I'm –." She realized she was about to say ‘safe'; but lying on his bed with her hands tied over her head and a rope tight across her stomach she did not feel safe at all! He came back to the bed and deposited the leather straps and ropes beside her.

Then he reached down to the hem of her skirt, and slowly lifted it upward. "McGee, no."

He raised her skirt, letting it fall in neat layers four inches wide up and down over the waistband, leaving her bare below her waist except for her white panties. "McGee!" She exclaimed, outraged, even more so when he grasped the elastic and started to pull the material down, first over the curves of her derrière, then off her hips.

Abby gasped, absolutely incredulous as the one word in the entire universe that she could not conceive of associating with Tim McGee flared through her mind. ‘Rape.'

She could not believe it, even as she pressed her legs tightly together in an effort to stop him, but he stopped pulling the material when he bared her pubes, the crotch still trapped between her tightly held legs. "Wow." He exclaimed. "That's incredible."

She knew all too well what had stopped him as he drank in the sight of her. About a year ago, on a whim, she had shaved herself completely and visited a tattoo artist, nothing new for her, except that she had asked him to inscribe, on her mons venires, her Mound of Venus, the outline of a bat.

About four inches wide from wingtip to wingtip, it had been a more than usually painful operation, but after her curly pubic hair started growing back in, she used a regular and careful application of cream to keep the growth ‘within the lines', so what she showed now to her fellow Agent was a small black bat above her intimate ‘batcave'.

He hesitated a moment in taking in this discovery, then tugged at her panties, drawing them down her legs and over her pink shoes, tossing them aside.

"McGee, Stop it!" She cried, mortified. It was one thing to attempt to seduce him; quite another to have him forcibly strip her; but even so she was now naked from the waist down.

She yanked at the tie that held her hands over her head, but could not free herself.

Reaching for two of the leather straps, which she saw had a single silver ring firmly attached to each, he fastened each of them to her ankles, securing them firmly. "No!" Drawing one of the white ropes through the ring, he bent over and ran it about the foot of the bed and started to pull. "No!"

She could not believe Tim McGee was doing this, but she was determined not to give in. She kept her legs pressed firmly together so he had to draw both her legs toward the corner of the bed. When he had her stretched all the way, he tied the rope firmly to the foot of the bed, and then threaded another rope through the ring on the strap binding her other ankle.

"Tim, stop." He drew the rope around the other bed leg at the opposite corner, and started to pull. "No, stop!" She fought him, keeping her legs pressed tightly together, but he had the advantage of leverage and slowly her legs started to part. "McGee, stop!" She cried as, inch by inch, she lost the struggle and he started to spread her legs. He drew them wide, his eyes locked on the intimate juncture of her thighs as she fought him uselessly, unable to pull her hands free, unable to close her legs or hide her most intimate flesh as he bent to the foot of the bed and tied the rope tightly.

Abby Sciuto was utterly helpless, tied spread on the king size bed, spread open and naked from her waist down. She always kept herself completely bare save for the stylized bat at her pubes, so there was nothing to interfere with his view. She felt her lips part slightly as her legs were kept widely apart, and she blushed a bright red, fearful that her nether lips were reddening as well. "Are you mad?" She exclaimed, straining uselessly at the bonds that held her secure.

"No, Abby." He said, coming up along the side of the bed, his fingers tracing up her right leg. "I'm feeling very good, in fact." His fingers brushed within just an inch of her labia, but then he drew teasingly away. His fingertips tickled the pubic fur that formed the body of the bat, and she gasped at the sensation. He picked up another leather strap, binding it about her right wrist, threading a rope through it, then untying the end of his tie from the headboard and drawing her wrists to the right corner of the bed, binding the rope tightly.

"I had no idea you were into bondage." Abby enthused. When he had first mentioned tying her up, she had been intrigued, and a bit thrilled, which was why she had opened the door the second time, in an attempt to ‘provoke' him, but she had not counted on what had happened; nor on his ‘delayed response'.

He put the fourth strap tightly around her left wrist and threaded the rope before he untied her wrists, but she could not fight him when he pulled her arm up and secured her to the corner of the bed. "I'm not into bondage." He told her with a superior smile. "You are."

He sat down on the side of the bed beside the bound and helpless girl, and slowly began to open her white blouse. "You didn't have to do this." She insisted, even as she started to struggle in earnest, unable to prevent him from opening her blouse. He drew the material to either side of her body, and reached for the tiny latch holding her white bra together. A simple flick of his fingers, and he spread the white cups aside, his fingers caressing her breasts as she gasped, the sensation more intense for being taken rather than ‘given'.

"Of course I did." He bent down, his lips kissing her nipple as she gasped again, then moaned in unendurable sensation as he drew her nipple between his lips, licking the tip. His other hand caressed her other breast, making her cry out in mounting passion. When he had first started to tie her, once she got over the initial fright of his ‘attack' as he had bound her wrists, she had felt a flare of lust go through her body, and she was moist and ready by the time he was pulling her legs apart; but now his lips and hands on her were driving her crazy.

She moaned and gasped in passion, unable to lie still, unable to keep from pulling at the ropes that secured her spread eagled upon the bed as he fondled and licked and sucked her breasts. After a time, in which she felt herself building up until she thought she was going to scream, he got off the bed and moved further down on the bed, laying down between her legs, his face just inches from her, so close she could feel his hot breath on her labia.

"McGee!" His hands slipped under her curvy bottom as his lips came down and his tongue drew up her vagina with a long, hot sensuous stroke as her head fell back upon the pillow, an impassioned cry filling the room. He licked her again, slowly, his tongue drawing upward along her labia and a long lingering stroke along her sensitive clitoris. She cried out, unable to form words, straining against the taut ropes as he licked her again, concentrating on her sensitive lips and even more intense clitoris, her cries mounting in passion until every breath was a squeal of pleasure.

"Deeper!" She barely managed to gasp between licks, and she felt his thumbs spread her labia and his tongue delve deeply into her before drawing back out to ‘attack' her clitoris, the sensation driving her out of her mind.

She tried to beg, to plead for ‘mercy', but could not say the words. Every time he attacked her sensitive flesh her words, her mind, were ripped from her and she writhed helplessly under him, a vulnerable victim of his merciless mouth! When he varied his attack with rapid flicks of his tongue over her clitoris she clamped her mouth tightly shut and tried to keep her impassioned cry from alerting the neighbors to her ‘distress'.

He brought his hands out from cupping her ass cheeks and reached up to her heaving breasts, his hot hands covering her sensitive mounds, gently squeezing. He licked her deeply, drew his tongue maddeningly along her clitoris, squeezed her breasts and trapped her hardened nipples between his fingers and she barely kept her lips clamped together as she threw back her head and shrieked.

Her body bucked wildly, convulsing in a cataclysmic tumult as her hot feminine cream seared his mouth and she shook as though electrocuted, her loud cries uncontrolled and uncontrollable. The orgasm lasted forever, as behind her clenched eyes stars exploded and the universe came to an end.

When it was over, centuries later, she lay panting, unable to move a muscle, and opening her eyes to find him positioned over her body, she was completely unable to prevent him from pressing himself deep into her steaming recesses.

She gasped at the overwhelming sensation as he invaded her, and even as a tiny piece of her mind translated the sensations between her legs into the words ‘ultra-ribbed condom' she was filled by him, and her eyes bulged at the awesome force.

She wasn't ready as he drew out and then pressed himself again into her yielding flesh. She tugged at the ropes holding her spread wide, longed to wrap her arms and her legs about his body as he invaded her, making her cry out with passion with every breath. Her entire language was reduced to ‘ohs' and ‘ahs' and ‘ais', but she communicated to him better than she ever had, in the way of women to men for millions of years before spoken language, before civilized thought and the confusion it abounds with. She lay under him, her ancient words forced out by the thrusts of the thick hardness that filled her, and the body of the man touching hers! She stopped pulling at the ropes, stopped trying to gain any control, and took all he was into her.

oooo

By the watch still on her wrist and barely visible above her head, it was over three hours later before he finished. In that long period he had paid extremely thorough attention to her breasts, her vagina, and every other inch of her from feet to hands. His ‘exploration' of her body had been thorough and complete, not a millimeter of her had not been touched and caressed and loved. He had not been stingy, feeding her a meal of Irish sausage she would always remember. Finally he lay beside her, his body not on her spread arm or leg, but still he gently petted her labia, knowing that every tiny touch was driving her mad! Her body trembled with every movement of his hand as though she were filled with kittens.

"McGee, I beg you! Stop a minute." She could not even think with his hand between her legs.

He bent over, his lips touching hers warmly. "I love it when you beg."

"Very funny. But you've had your fun."

"So have you."

She wasn't about to deny it. It was the wildest three hours of her entire existence. "Yes, but now untie me." She tugged at the ropes. "Please."

He shook his head. "Sorry, no can do."

She couldn't believe she heard him right. "What?" She exclaimed, picking up her head to look at him.

He got off the bed to come around to the foot of it, and lay down between her spread thighs. "I promised you if you opened the door I would tie you up, and I am a man of my word."

"Well, yeah, but it's over now." She insisted.

"Sorry." He shook his head again in mock sadness. "I never said a word about untying you." He ducked his head below the level of the bat, and gently licked her, his tongue coming up slowly to draw across her clitoris, and she flung back her head and groaned. He kept doing it and she could not speak; could not think; could not do anything but writhe helplessly on the bed, the vulnerable victim of his cruel tongue.

"McGee!" She cried when, two minutes later, he let her breathe again.

"In fact, I promise you that you are going to spend this entire weekend right here. I'll let you up for the bathroom or for a shower; or to eat or drink; and if you're really good maybe I'll just tie one hand to the headboard or your hands behind your back to keep you from running away at night. But other than that you are going to be right here until Monday morning."

"McGee, please." He bent down and licked her again, a long, lingering sensual stroke of his tongue along her labia and clitoris, and she flung back her head, crying out in overwhelming sensation. He spread her lips gently with his fingers and licked her again, this time more deeply and she strained at the ropes, her entire body convulsing helplessly. He licked her a third time, pressing even more firmly into her, trailing along her exploding clitoris, and she mentally cleared her schedule for the weekend.

She knew without a doubt that he would keep her as a love captive for the entire weekend. He was, after all, a man of his word.