kate's place; after a case--abby's left with mcgee and kate's curled up, barefoot, on her sofa, staring at the open bottles on her coffee table.
"are you counting them?" he sits down on the sofa--well, he tries, but he's been responsible for some of those bottles and the floor ends up being closer.
she was, actually, but she won't admit that to tony. not in a very long time. and there are too many to count. how many had mcgee drunk before he took abby home? or was abby taking him? she worries and frowns.
he snickers and pats her ankle. "they took a cab, katie," he says patronizingly. "stop being all mother-hennish."
his hand feels good touching her. "stop that."
"stop what?" he shouldn't be baiting her like this, but it's so much fun. almost too easy.
he hasn't stopped, and she thinks perhaps she should move her feet, but it seems like so much effort and there are a lot of bottles on the table. and his hand feels good so she sighs instead of saying anything.
he grins. "you have pretty feet, katie." he leans closer to take a look. "pretty feet with pretty pink toes. do you paint your toes yourself, katie?"
"haven't been called that since twelve." and somehow that's important, and maybe crossing a line. but her toenails are pink. and maybe that's another line. "do my pink toes disturb you, dinozzo?" the acid in her voice makes her wince; she can't say his name any other way, it seems.
"not at all, katie." and he really, really shouldn't bait her like this but if she's going to snap at him, he'll play right back. "i think it's cute." actually, he thinks *she's* cute, but that's probably the result of too much alcohol. which isn't to say that he's never wondered, but...
she sighs and frowns and moans when his thumb digs in and starts rubbing. embarrassed, she closes her eyes. "please. stop." but she's lying, and wonders if he can tell.
he snickers. yeah right, she wants him to stop. she can act all she wants, but he *knows* women. carefully, he eases himself onto the couch and takes her feet into his lap, rubbing them in a way he knows will make her melt. *do her good to relax a bit, anyway.*
she shivers and gasps and god she must be smashed if she's letting tony touch her feet. she wonders how drunk he is that he's the one who started it. she thinks. it's kind of a blur, but he's so *good* that not even gibbs can blame her for losing track. and that almost sobers her up, and her eyes snap open. he looks intent, not leering, focused on her feet and the thought that *maybe 200 women can't all be wrong*
"tony" she breathes out, and that's better, less biting.
it never fails. he smiles and presses his thumb into the arch of her foot, watching her groan in pleasure. "something you want, kate?" and now she's "kate" and not "katie" and he doesn't care.
she'll kill him in the morning for this. but at the moment, he doesn't care.
200 women should feel like used clothes. but he doesn't. his arms go around her automatically and his lips are soft and warm under hers, stubble scratching against her chin. and hell, now she's kissing tony dinozzo and she'll be damned if she's drunk enough to be a fucking notch on his fucking bedpost. she jerks away, nearly falling off the sofa.
he catches her before she falls, easing her back against the cushions. "gonna chicken out on me now, kate?"
she glares at him. she knew he was an asshole. "i knew you were an asshole." she wants to spit his name, spit the taste of him out of her mouth, and she's on the verge of tears.
he strokes a lock of hair back from her face. says nothing, because she'll leap on anything he says right now and he doesn't feel like dealing with the caustic words. he just strokes her hair. and waits.
that just makes her angrier at herself. christ--she's drunk and tony's here and she's going to cry and she *knows* he'll use it against her. some juvenile joke, some crude jibe that's going to make her want to shoot him and she doesn't want to shoot him.
well, not fatally.
"why do you hate me?" and god, that sounds pathetic and it's just more ammo for tony fucking 200 women dinozzo who can give a foot massage and knows how to kiss.
whoa. where did *that* come from?
"i don't hate you, kate," he says, and shit now he wishes he wasn't so drunk because this is *kate*, it's not beth or jennifer or kirsten or whoever he was fucking last week. it's kate and he needs to say the right thing which he never manages to do.
and it's late and they're drunk and-"i should go. i don't want to upset you."
he doesn't want to leave. but he has to work with her come monday. has to be able to pass gibbs' sensors. so he should call a cab now.
don't.
did she say it out loud? or just think it.
does she want to know the answer to that question?
"it's too late." and she's not sure if she means the time or being upset. she has to squeeze her eyes shut again.
god. if she were any more complicated he'd be david bowie and she'd have a baby brother named toby.
he sighs to himself and shifts, pulling her against him and kissing the top of her head. he doesn't know what he's doing, just wants to soothe her. he knew she was brittle; he didn't realize she was so fragile.
she lets him hold her. he's warm and she's somehow started shaking. he presses his lips to her head again. she sighs. he's being decent. tony, not dinozzo. she tilts her head up to say thank you, sorry, or *something* so he can keep being tony, not dinozzo, and he tilts his head down to kiss her forehead or something and they meet in the middle.
she tastes like wine and chocolate and she's soft and--for once--pliant against him and he takes his time kissing her, shifting her against him so she's sprawled out over his chest. when the kiss ends, she looks at him with glazed eyes and he doesn't let her say anything before he kisses her again.
oh
oh... god
it feels good. he shifts, and fits better, and it feels even *better*
and the zinfadel they drank earlier didn't taste this amazing.
she lets his hands cradle her face; she lets hers press against his chest.
he can't stop kissing her, it's like the dam broke and now all he can do is kiss her again and again and again, listening to her purr into his mouth and feeling her warm and soft and eager against him.
and she might hit him for this, but kissing isn't enough now and he lets his hands slide down her back and up under her soft blue sweater, against her skin, up to the catch on her bra.
one by one, the hooks come loose and he pushes the sweater up more, hoping she'll let him take it off rather than hit him.
he's too slow... she twists, trying to take her sweater off without letting go of his mouth. she *needs* this, she *wants* this, and she's not so far gone that she doesn't know who she's with, and fuck! she wants his hands on her, big and warm with a gun callus *right* there and does he get manicures or what? she breaks the kiss just long enough to yank it over her head and toss it onto the table. she could give a fuck if it knocks over a wine bottle now.
so much for slow and gentle. he peels her bra off, cups her breasts in his hands, squeezing a little and listening to her moan. his thumbs rub over her nipples and he feels them harden under his touch and who knew she'd be so responsive?
he pushes her down, against the couch, so he's on top, kissing her mouth, her jaw, her neck, working his way down to those gorgeous full breasts of hers, drawing each nipple into his mouth and playing with it. and when she's squirming under him, her hands tangled in his hair, he raises his head. "this'd be more comfortable in bed, don't you think?"
and he waits, because that's it, that's not just spontaneous making out on a couch, that's an invitation to have sex and there's no going back.
she's tempted. she's tempted to say no--the couch is here, after all, and there's something private about moving to the bedroom... to her bedroom... and fucking on the sofa just seems like something tony'd do.
but it's tony, not dinozzo, and tony watches her back, and he gives her clues and they work together.
and the bed is just through one door... she nods, can't say anything, but sits up
he grins, once, and it's not because he got his way but because he wants to surprise her and he doesn't get to do that very often. so he gets off the couch and crouches next to her and scoops her up into his arms, kissing her ear and the smooth line of her neck. "which way?' he asks.
she's small and solid in his arms and he doesn't think he'll be able to hold her for long but he doubts he'll have to, anyway. her apartment's not *that* big.
surprised squeaks are embarrassing, but she supposes that she'll have lots to be embarrassed about after tonight. she buries her face in his neck and points to the door wordlessly.
if she doesn't stop licking his skin he's going to drop her, and wouldn't that be embarrassing? but he gets them into the bedroom and lays her down on the bed and kneels over her, watching her. "what do you want, kate?"
she shakes off an errant tendril of shame and looks him in the eye. "your mouth." hell, she might as well be aggressive.
*oh, kate...if only you knew what you were letting yourself in for...*
he smiles just enough to give her a hint that what she asked for and what she'll get might not quite be on the same page, because he's been doing this for almost hafl his life now--maybe more, really. and if he can't make her scream, then he doesn't deserve his badge.
he unfastens her pants and draws the zipper down, sliding them off, leaving her in her (silky, blue) underwear and nothing else. and he watches her, waiting for a response.
his breath is warm and wet on her and she tries not to squirm. his lips press lightly to fabric, teeth tugging at her underwear, large hands stroking and spreading her thighs apart. she sighs in anticipation. it's been too long.
god, if he'd known how hungry she was for it he...well, no, because she'd never have let him before. but he's here now, and saying no is the last thing she wants, and he can take his time with her, licking her through the fabric, thumbs rubbing over the sensitive line between groin and thigh. she moans a little, and he smiles.
he's just getting started.
when his teeth graze over her clit, she gasps and twists up, hands twisting in the comforter. his chuckle zings through her like a spark. damn him for being so arrogant. she bites her lip, determined not to give him the satisfaction of knowing how *good* this is, but he does it again and she can't hold back her whine.
her underwear's soaked already and she whimpers as he peels it off, slowly, his tongue flicking over her skin, but he doesn't touch her directly. not yet. he wants her on edge, so close she's trembling, so close she's ready to beg him for more.
and she will beg. by the end of the night, he'll make her beg. the thought should bother him more than he does, but for once he's got her right where he wants her, right where *she* wants to be, and he's not about to give up his advantage. so he bends his head and tastes her, slowly, one gentle lick of his tongue from base to tip.
"Oh..." she breathes out. it's the alcohol; that's why she's so turned on, surely. not because it's tony. not because it's been too long since someone's paid more than perfunctory attention to her. and that's certainly the reason her eyes are wet. "tony..."
she forces herself to her elbows to actually see what he's doing; he paused when she said his name, waiting for her to continue, but she can't think of what she was going to say, only that he's stopped.
he looks up at her, but her cheeks are flushed and she doesn't look like she really wants or meant to say anything, so he leans down again and kisses her stomach, right above her pubis. her skin's soft and smooth and she smells like jasmine and honeysuckle; interesting combination and one that suits her, he thinks. but that's neither here nor there.
and then he slides his hands under her, cupping her ass in his hands and lifting her a little. she falls back against the bed and he grins to himself before beginning in earnest.
200... fuck. practice does make ... well, she's not going to admit that he's perfect, but it's pretty damn good. her resolve to not give into this flies away the instant his tongue caresses her clit and she gasps, writhing in his hold, pressing to him. she can feel the blood rush, hear her whole body throb with arousal.
she moans, presses up, clenches muscles she's forgotten she'd had. no, no no.... too soon. it's too embarrassing. she'll never hear the end of it but when he slides a finger into her, so easy and slick, her eyes roll back and she comes with a shudder.
okay, that he hadn't expected. he's good, but...damn, she was primed. he wonders how long it's been since she's had sex, how long since she's let go and enjoyed herself. or, failing that, how long it's been since she took out her vibrator and masturbated.
he bets it's purple.
but she'll kill him if he's grinning when he looks up so he stays where he is, nuzzling her thighs, his hand stroking her belly until he feels her calm and he can kneel up. he looks at her, making sure her eyes are focused, when he licks his lips.
she won't ask. it feels too much like begging, but she manages to shift up enough to yank on his shoulders, pulling him up the bed. his body is tight and well formed, skin hot through the fabric of his shirt.
she's not an innocent. she wants him now, and she's not too afraid to show it. maybe afraid to say it, but unbuttoning his shirt doesn't need words. he helps her, shrugging it off partway before catching at his wrists.
he's got enough hair on his chest and arms, so she strokes over his shoulders again, feeling for his back. it's smooth and she giggles. waxed. vanity.
he's not sure why she's giggling but he doesn't really care at the moment. he manages to get his shirt off and leans down to kiss her again. he wants her to taste herself on his mouth, know that *he* made her feel this way.
she gasps into his mouth and tries to pull him down on top of her but he holds back, kneeling over her with his hands braced on either side of her head. god, as much as he wants to be inside her he wants to draw this out more.
if he's only going to get one chance at this--and lord knows he is--then he's going to do it right. he kisses her throat, her collarbone, sliding down to her breasts. he wonders if her nipples are as sensitive as the rest of her.
only one way to find out, and he grins to himself, flicking one with his tongue teasingly.
oh god, no fair. she squirms under him, grabbing for his shoulders just to have something to hold, because he's not stopping and that tongue is driving her insane.
this is so wrong, this should not be happening, because this is *tony* and they work together and she doesn't fucking care right now, not with him half-naked and on top of her and her nipple in his mouth. "tony," she gets out, and it sounds so desperate she'd cover her face with her hands if she could let go of him.
yeah, that's the stuff. he loves it when he gets women to this point and somehow having *kate* here is even better. yesterday he would have paid so much money to see her like this, and now--he's got her.
and now he's not sure what he's going to do.
she's gorgeous, flushed like this, and she tastes good and her eyes are closed and he's so hard he's got to get his pants off soon or else he's going to come from this alone. he's trying to remember if he has a condom in his wallet, but it's really hard to concentrate right now with her hands on his shoulders holding him right where he wants to be.
christ--does she have condoms in her dresser? it's been so long since she needed one and god, that's pathetic, but it's true and maybe tony's right. maybe she needs to get laid more often and just as she thinks that tony bites her other nipple gently and she gasps.
fuck the condom--she's on the pill anyway and he has to have a physical as often as she does and if she doesn't get him inside her *now* she's going to explode. she drags her hands off his shoulders and works them down between their bodies, fighting with the button of his jeans. he gasps when her fingers brush over the bulge and when she manages to get the zipper down he groans, thrusting into her hands instinctively.
okay, maybe 200 women had reasons for sleeping with him. wow.
"kate." it's not a statement; it's not her name; it's a whine. god, her hands feel so good he's going to come right now if she doesn't...
fuck. that's even better and he doesn't have words for what she's doing. he buries his face in her cleavage, trying to get a bit of control back because the last thing he wants to do is be that smartass jock from high school that she thinks he is.
baseball stats are running through his head as he leans up to kiss her. "how..." he has to take a deep breath, because--wow. good catholic girl has good hands. "how are we doing this?" he'll find the condom if that's what it takes, but anything she wants is good for him, as long as he can get *inside*.
*tab a, slot b* flits through her head and she can't quite suppress the snicker. "i think i have--" she nods at her nightstand. "let me--"
he moves off her to get rid of her clothes and she rolls onto her side, stretching to open the drawer. and thank god for luck because she's got exactly three condoms in there. she pulls one out and turns back over, looking up at him as she opens the plastic packet.
"do you want--" but he shakes his head and takes it from her, rolling it on himself and she's just as glad because her hands would probably have been shaking too much to do it.
and then he's pressing her back against the mattress, his hands linked with hers, and he's blunt and hard and hot even through the condom and he pushes into her and she cries out because it feels so *good* and she's already close to coming again.
she's not sure she'll survive this night. she doesn't care.
fuck. she's hot and tight and slick even through the condom and he has to recite the Yankees' roster from 1979 to keep from coming right then and there. it shouldn't be this bad... good... whatever... because it's not like he didn't just have a date last weekend but it's *kate*.
and her legs feel amazing wrapped around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back and the little noises she's making each time he thrusts in are so fucking *hot*. fuck the yankees. he needs to make her come again, wants to watch her face this time so he twists and lifts up and the sound she makes is indescribable.
she hears herself whimper each time he thrusts into her, feels her body riding that razor edge. god, he's so fucking good at this or maybe it's just been that long or fuck it, she doesn't care, she needs to come, and when he twists again she lets herself go and her body spasms, shudders running through her.
oh...oh fuck...and she's never really been capable of multiples but she needs this so badly she's ready to come again, without him touching her clit, without anything but him inside her and their hands linked and his weight on her, rocking her back against the pillows each time he moves.
"please..." she hears herself whisper and fuck she said she wasn't going to beg and it's too late now. "tony, please..."
he just needs to move, hot fire in his gut, tight and twisting and he grinds up against her because no way in hell does he want to let go of her hands. good hands, holding him down and jesus, she's spasming *again* and her face does this kind of cute scrunchy thing and fuck!
his arms go wobbly for a moment as the world goes white.
his eyes open and focus slowly on her body, sheened with sweat and he can't suppress the grin of triumph. he did *this* to *her*--sated and limp on her bed, half-passed out with pleasure, eyes closed and mouth open.
her eyes flutter slightly and he moves down quickly to kiss her. he'd like to keep his dick, thank you, and he has a feeling she wouldn't appreciate his smirk. and besides, kissing her isn't a bad thing at all, and this way he can roll them onto their sides.
she still can't--quite--hear. or see. the world's blurry and out of focus and the blood's roaring in her ears and it takes her a moment or five to realize that tony's shifted to lie on his back, with her head on his shoulder and his arm around her. she's got one arm sprawled across his chest and right now, she feels wonderful. relaxed and loose and limp and her body's still purring.
she tries to remember how many times she came. three, she thinks, and that's more than any man she can remember, and she doesn't really know why or if that's important, just that it's a fact.
but she'll be damned if she lets him know that.
he's going to need to get up, clean up, toss the condom stuff, but he's really not got it together enough to move yet. besides, kate's smiling and comfortably ensconced in his arms. why mess with a good thing?
no need to ask if it was good for her--there was ample proof of that--and it was certainly good for him.
she wiggles closer, and he decides now or never.
"so. same time next week?"
he has no idea how she manages to elbow him in the ribs from where she's lying. "not on your life, dinozzo."
ow. "yeah. didn't think so."
201 by blueraccoon
Story Notes:
we didn't do this. we swear.
Author's Chapter Notes:
She'll kill him in the morning.
Chapter End Notes:
we didn't do this. we swear.