46. Clubbing
"I was thinking,"
Palmer said as he put his beer down. They were wrapping up dinner and
getting ready to head out for Laser Tag. "We're all couples now, so we
could do something less platonic than laser tag. How about next time we
go clubbing?"
Tim rose his eyebrows and smiled at Abby. They go out every month or so, and it's usually fun.
"I'm in," Abby said. "I'm thinking since Tony and Ziva just started dating, they should get to pick where we go."
Ziva nods, smile creeping over her face. "I know a place. Two weeks from today, we go dancing?"
Tony grins. "That'll be fun."
Aesthetics. Tim appreciates aesthetics. And while Tony might not agree, he has a very definite sense of style, as well. Not like the collars on his jackets pop themselves, and it's not like he does it because his neck gets cold.
It's true that the second thing he did when he got some
money was get some really nice clothing. And while he's not a clothes
horse, he is picky about what he wears. It's also true, that, after
having spent close to two thousand dollars on a jacket to have it
destroyed less than five hours after wearing it out for the first time,
he doesn't wear his good clothing to work.
So, given the information that they were going to a club with an upscale casual dress code and the music is world hip hop, he's taking the time to come up with a decent outfit.
The jeans are Rock and Republic, light blue, intentionally worn looking, not frayed, the t-shirt is dark blue, slight v-neck, the jacket is leather, dark brown, almost black, Armani.
Abby's smiling at him, he can see her behind him in the mirror over his dresser as he slips on his watch.
He's thinking she's amused because it's taking him longer to get dressed than it took her.
Of course, she has it easy. For girls going clubbing is simple, find dress, put dress on, doesn't matter what sort of dress it is, any one will do, (Okay, no that's not literally true, but that's how it looks to him.) apply makeup and heels, and you're ready to go.
She's wearing this little black and pink thing. It's got a halter top, and a very low back, all of her back tattoos are visible, and a swingy, mid-thigh length, pleated skirt. When she's standing you just see a black dress, but the insides of the pleats are bright pink, so when she moves you catch flashes of pink.
Her hair is down and even curled a little, or waved. He's not sure where the line between curly and wavy is. It's whatever happens when she just lets it dry naturally without brushing it under the hairdryer. And whichever it is, he likes it.
He takes a moment to play with his hair a little. It's a slightly messier version of how he usually wears it.
She steps up behind him and turns him to face her. Then she presses up close for a long, open mouth kiss, running her fingers through his hair, rubbing up against him in a manner that's making him think being late for dinner is a particularly good idea. After a minute, she pulls back, grins, and says, "I think that's the look you were going for."
He looks at himself again and adjusts his pants. "Ruffled hair, half-hard, thinking about sex. Not a bad look for me."
She giggles and puts on a pair of knee-high black patent leather boots. "Not a bad look at all."
They met for dinner first. Palmer and Breena were already at the restaurant when they got there, but no sign of Ziva and Tony.
They've been there just long enough for him to give Breena a hello hug, when Ziva and Tony show up. Tim stares at the three couples, and yeah, style.
They might be best friends, but there are some seriously different aesthetics going on here.
He
looks at Palmer: brown suit, British librarian cut, red striped shirt,
maroon bow tie, then points to himself. "Nine." He points to Tony: navy
suit, sharp cut, white shirt, blue tie, red pinstripe. "Ten." And then
points to Palmer. "Eleven."
Tony looks confused, Abby's smiling, Breena seems to get it, and Ziva looks intrigued.
Palmer grins. "You think you're Nine?"
"I'm the one in the jeans, leather jacket, and t-shirt."
"I suppose so. But really, Eleven? I don't look anything like Matt Smith."
"The suit." Tim stares at Jimmy's tie. "The bowtie?"
"Speaking of which..." Ziva pulls it off of Jimmy and hands it to Breena. "Not for where we're going."
"Oh." Jimmy undoes the top button of his shirt. "Okay. Still, when it comes down to it, I'm Four."
"I can see that," Abby says.
"Are you guys done with whatever massive geekery this is?"
"Sure, Tony," Tim answers.
Breena says to Tony, "You just got compared to David Tennant."
"Who?" Tony asks.
Tim's mildly surprised that Tony doesn't know who David Tennant is, but then again, he hasn't been in any of the sorts of movies Tony likes.
"Exactly," Abby replies, grinning widely. "So, if you're Nine, he's Ten, and Jimmy's Eleven, which ones of the Companions are we?"
"I'm Rose,"
Breena says. Beyond the blond hair, Tim's not seeing that at all. He
can't imagine Rose in cute, knee brushing, spaghetti strap dress in a
fawn colored brown with tiny pink roses all over it. Ziva in tight gray
pants, he's not sure if they're denim or suede and isn't about to get
close enough to find out, and a sort of swoopy-necked,
spaghetti-strapped, tank-top looking-thing with little sparkles all over
the neck line puts him more in mind of Rose.
And, while he might not see the resemblance, he does know what to do with it. He holds out his hand to her, smiles, and says, "If you want to see the universe, come with me."
Breena laughs, takes his hand, and lets him kiss her cheek before stepping back to Jimmy.
Jimmy, not to be outdone, says to Abby, "Amy?"
And she steps in close and lets Jimmy kiss her cheek as well.
Tony groans. "What is this, the mating dance of the geeks?"
The hostess turned to them and let them know their table was ready. "Thank God!" Tony says.
By the time they had gotten through the appetizers it was likely Ziva had been convinced to start watching Dr. Who. Tony, though regaled with the joy that is Dr. Who, was entirely unmoved by the idea of watching it.
One of the side effects of dating Abby is that Tim's gone from being a competent dancer to a fairly decent one. And not just for the bits of music that are inside his comfort zone. They go out clubbing about once a month. Not too much dancing at the Jazz clubs he likes, they're more of a sit, listen, and drink sort of space, but the Goth/Industrial ones she likes are the sorts of places they expect you to dance.
So, with practice, and with getting used to not just how she moves, but how the music moves her, he's getting better at dancing, especially with her, and his range of moves is increasing dramatically.
Of course, there's better at dancing, and then there's being dropped in a World Hip Hop/Techno club, the kind of music Ziva likes.
A few thoughts occur to him as they're walking in. First off, there's fifteen years age difference between Breena and Tony, thirteen between Ziva and Tony.
Ziva and Breena are awfully comfortable here. This might not exactly be Breena's favorite kind of music, but it's close enough to her idea of go out and party that she's fine.
He and Palmer are about five years too old for this. December 14, 1977 was a big day for both of them. (He's four hours older than Palmer.) So, for them, grunge and raves is part of whatever miniscule bits of party culture they picked up.
Abby... well, she's been at this a long time, and didn't stop, so she's got a wide and well-varied level of experience. And sure, she's a lot more Goth than anyone else around, but she gets the music pretty easy. The instruments are different, the lyrics are...well... actually Tim has no idea what the lyrics are. They could be as dark as what Abby likes, but since they aren't in English, he doesn't know. They sound perkier though. The music however, has a similar sort of feel, all beat, lots of percussion, this is grab you by the heart and hips and make you move music.
Like Abby, Tony's prime party days lasted a pretty long time, but he's got the whole frat party vibe thing going on, where the only reason there is music is to get the girls to rub up against you. And this is very much not a frat party.
Tim's getting the sense that if they get to pick the club again, Tony's going to insist on somewhere swanky and cocktail lounge-y.
The other thought that occurs to him as they walk in is that there are about nine thousand twenty-something guys here, all but drooling over his girl, and he's not about to be out-danced by any of them.
"How's the ring hunt?" Jimmy asks as he and Tim bring drinks back to their table.
"Nothing yet. Still looking."
"Promise me, if you haven't found anything by Fourth of July, you'll talk to a jeweler?"
"Why are you so interested in me doing this fast?"
"You have a fascinating definition of fast, Tim. It's June, you've been ring hunting for four months without finding anything."
"Not answering my question."
Jimmy shrugs a little, causing a bit of Breena's drink to slosh over the side of the glass. "Because if you two are engaged before Labor Day, I win the pool."
"Who's in the pool?" Tim's a little surprised he hasn't heard about this before now.
"Who isn't? Gibbs had money on before Memorial Day. Ducky has Christmas."
"Who's got money on Halloween?"
"Last I checked, no one."
"Idiots. Place a bet for me?"
Jimmy glares a little at him, but it's a mostly joking look. "I am not placing a bet for you on when you get engaged, and I'm sure as hell not doing it so that if you win, I lose."
"When does Tony have?"
"Fourth of July."
"Ziva?"
"She had Abby's birthday."
"What's the pool up to?"
"Fifteen hundred dollars."
"I expect a killer wedding present from you."
Jimmy grins. "Any day between July 5th and Labor Day and you'll get one."
He was dancing with Abby, close and fast, and it didn't take him long to notice she was edging them further and further away from the crowd.
By the end of the song, they were against the far wall. She took his hand and led him towards the back of the club.
"I noticed something when I went to the bathroom."
"What?" Tim asks, letting go of her hand to put his arm around her shoulders.
"There's this nice, little," and she nudged him behind a tall stack of liquor boxes, "alcove here."
It was definitely tight quarters, barely enough room for both of them. And, unlike the clubs she likes, this doesn't seem to be the sort of place where people run off and have sex in the back. (The fact that there's no one back there already would seem to indicate that.) Which means this was all sorts of right up his alley.
He's a little drunk, so they're not going to set any speed records, but she's usually pretty happy for that.
He presses her against the wall, facing it. It's a pretty nice wall for the back of a club, no graffiti or cum stains. (It occurs to him the kind of places he goes to with her are a lot different than the kind of places Tony and Ziva go.) For a moment, he just looks at her.
All of her back tattoos are visible, and he's going to kiss each and every single one.
His hand traces over her hair, knotting in it, lifting it, and then he places a soft, wet kiss on the nape of her neck, just above the top of her dress. He kisses down her neck, over to her shoulder, getting the first angel, then to the other, and she sighs, and presses back into him, squirming encouragingly.
He licks to the top of the cross, and drags his tongue over the lines, tracing it into her skin, stopping to nibble gently when he gets to the base of it, then slowly eases his way back up to press tight into her back.
His fingers trail down her arms, settle onto her hips, and he grinds against her.
He's inching her skirt up as he asks, breath hot on her ear, tongue teasing her neck between words, "What do you want?"
Her eyes close and she sighs again. His hands, now touching skin, go still on her hips, waiting for her to answer him.
She turns to look over her shoulder, and kisses him, tongue soft and wet, sliding against his. She broke the kiss when she felt him go hard against her ass.
Her hands snake between them, undoing his belt, starting on the button while she says, "One hand on my clit, the other on my nipple, while you fuck me from behind."
"Yes." He bites very gently on her shoulder while she finishes with his pants. He uses his foot to nudge her legs a little further apart, giving him better access.
His left hand pulls her panties to the side, holds them there, and starts on her clit while his dick just slides between her lips for a few strokes. His right hand slips under her top, finding her breast and nipple easily.
She reaches down, gives him some help with the angle, and he slides in deep and sweet, gently swearing against her neck as her body slipped wet and tight against his.
It's true that a little drunk slows him down, but it speeds her up, so it's not long before she's got her hands clutched into the hair at the nape of his neck, shuddering against him. He doesn't stop while she gets off, just slows down, face pressed into her shoulder while he continues to pet her.
When her body stops twitching, he stops, too, pulling out. "Turn around. Wanna see you, wanna kiss you, want you to see me come."
She does, grinning at him.
They're rocking against each other, enjoying it, this is good music to fuck too, nice, steady beat for it, and it's certainly not slow, but it's not too fast, either. Her eyes were on his, lips and tongues encouraging each other toward more pleasure, when her eyes slid to the left.
She's not looking at him anymore. She's looking over his shoulder. He stops kissing, stops moving, wondering if they're about to get tossed out of the club, really hoping they aren't about to get arrested.
"Hi Jimmy, Breena."
His head falls to her shoulder, and he starts to laugh. Of course Jimmy would home in on this, too.
He can hear the smile in Abby's voice. "Give us..."
He realizes she's expecting him to provide a time frame.
"Five minutes," he says, kissing her shoulder, very much not turning to look behind him.
"Fine," Breena chirps, also laughing. He feels a small hand gently pat him on the ass, and then hears, "Have fun."
He looks at Abby, eyes wide, giggling with amazement. "Did that just happen?"
She smiles at him, "Yeah I think so."
"She gets really flirty when she drinks."
"She hasn't been drinking, Tim."
"Huh."
"Five minutes?" she asks him, redirecting the conversation. "You that close?"
"I was before they walked up."
"Five minutes it is, then."
Four and a half minutes later, they were dancing again. And they didn't see Jimmy and Breena for close to an hour. Which suited Tim just fine. He knows that if he sees Palmer, he'll burst out laughing hysterically, and he's not sure he wants to explain this joke to Tony.
Okay, dancing with Abby against his front and Ziva at his back was a kick. He's thinking he could get used to the idea that they do this on a somewhat regular basis.
He's also happily imagining what would happen if they were to take the other four to the kind of clubs Abby likes.
Breena'd go for it in a heartbeat, and Jimmy probably would too. Ziva... He's imagining her Gothed out, and likes the image. Tony... that brings a smile to his face.
Yes, going dancing is a good idea.
And even with an hour, when Jimmy did come to sit next to him at their table, (the girls were dancing with Tony) his hair a little messed up and his shirt not quite as well tucked in as it had been before, Tim did burst into hysterical laughter.
Jimmy held his face straight for, oh, nine, maybe ten, seconds, and then joined him.
Finally he said, "Think Tony got laid?"
Tim watched him dancing with the girls. "Nope. He'd be a lot less keyed up if he had gotten laid."
Palmer smirked. "Hard to do when your girl is wearing pants."
"Hard to do some things if she's wearing pants. Not so hard to do others."
And then they both broke into giggles.
The music slowed down a little, and both he and Jimmy got up to join their girls, and then stopped, and sat back down again, quickly.
Ziva and Tony had paired off for the slower music, and so had Abby and Breena.
Abby had pulled Breena close to her, one hand on Breena's waist, the other on her shoulder. Breena's head was on Abby's shoulder, her hands on Abby's waist. And mostly it was just cute, the two of them swaying with each other. There was nothing overtly sexual about it.
At least, there was nothing overtly sexual about the way they were dancing with each other. The way Tim and Jimmy responded to watching them snuggled in close and swaying with each other was entirely sexual.
"Oh God," Jimmy whispered it, eyes wide, gaze riveted to the girls.
Tim exhaled a long breath, also incapable of pulling his eyes away.
Abby turned them so both of the guys could see her back, and Breena's fingers just teasing the skin of her low back below the hem of her dress.
"I think they're making sure we'll be up for another round," Tim said.
Jimmy shot back the rest of his drink. "I sure as hell am."
Abby slid her hand slowly down Breena's arm, stroking her fingers between Breena's, and Tim groaned quietly.
He stood up, and Jimmy grabbed his arm, yanking him back down into the booth. "No. You do not cut in on them!"
"But..." That sounded significantly more needy and less manly than Tim might have liked, but in a second Jimmy was in exactly the same sort of Oh-My-God-We-Talked-About-This-Hottest-Thing-I've- Ever-Seen boat as Breena slid her foot along Abby's leather boot clad calf, mesmerizing both of the guys with the sight of her small, shapely foot in a cute tan and white high-heeled sandal against the sleek black leather of Abby's boot.
"I don't care how badly you want to touch her. You do not stop this!" Jimmy wasn't sounding particularly in control as he said that.
So Tim sat and watched.
There was no kissing. No really obvious petting. No making out. Just four minutes of the two of them dancing, chest to chest, and occasionally touching in a way they knew would drive the guys crazy. It took Tim a minute to figure out that if the arm petting on Abby's part was deliberate, that Breena's foot lazily sliding up and down Abby's boot had to be as well.
When the song ended, the girls went to them, both grinning madly. As soon as they got near the booth, Jimmy tossed a hundred on the table, grabbed Breena, kissed the ever living daylights out of her, bending her back as he pulled her flush to him, his lips almost attacking hers, for a very long minute, and then headed off.
Tim sat in the booth, Abby on his lap, her fingers lazily stroking his skin below the collar of his jacket as the two of them watched Jimmy and Breena kiss.
And, okay, Jimmy still wasn't going to be showing up in any of his fantasies about Breena, but he certainly had not minded seeing that at all.
Abby kissed his ear, lips wet and soft, sucking gently. "You like that?"
He inhaled shakily. "Fuck, yes."
"Home or here again?"
"Neither of us should drive, and I want way more time than we can get here. There's a hotel three blocks down."
"Good."
Abby stood up, and he tossed his own bills on the table, more than ready to go somewhere private.
Next
Tim rose his eyebrows and smiled at Abby. They go out every month or so, and it's usually fun.
"I'm in," Abby said. "I'm thinking since Tony and Ziva just started dating, they should get to pick where we go."
Ziva nods, smile creeping over her face. "I know a place. Two weeks from today, we go dancing?"
Tony grins. "That'll be fun."
Aesthetics. Tim appreciates aesthetics. And while Tony might not agree, he has a very definite sense of style, as well. Not like the collars on his jackets pop themselves, and it's not like he does it because his neck gets cold.
So, given the information that they were going to a club with an upscale casual dress code and the music is world hip hop, he's taking the time to come up with a decent outfit.
The jeans are Rock and Republic, light blue, intentionally worn looking, not frayed, the t-shirt is dark blue, slight v-neck, the jacket is leather, dark brown, almost black, Armani.
Abby's smiling at him, he can see her behind him in the mirror over his dresser as he slips on his watch.
He's thinking she's amused because it's taking him longer to get dressed than it took her.
Of course, she has it easy. For girls going clubbing is simple, find dress, put dress on, doesn't matter what sort of dress it is, any one will do, (Okay, no that's not literally true, but that's how it looks to him.) apply makeup and heels, and you're ready to go.
She's wearing this little black and pink thing. It's got a halter top, and a very low back, all of her back tattoos are visible, and a swingy, mid-thigh length, pleated skirt. When she's standing you just see a black dress, but the insides of the pleats are bright pink, so when she moves you catch flashes of pink.
Her hair is down and even curled a little, or waved. He's not sure where the line between curly and wavy is. It's whatever happens when she just lets it dry naturally without brushing it under the hairdryer. And whichever it is, he likes it.
He takes a moment to play with his hair a little. It's a slightly messier version of how he usually wears it.
She steps up behind him and turns him to face her. Then she presses up close for a long, open mouth kiss, running her fingers through his hair, rubbing up against him in a manner that's making him think being late for dinner is a particularly good idea. After a minute, she pulls back, grins, and says, "I think that's the look you were going for."
He looks at himself again and adjusts his pants. "Ruffled hair, half-hard, thinking about sex. Not a bad look for me."
She giggles and puts on a pair of knee-high black patent leather boots. "Not a bad look at all."
They met for dinner first. Palmer and Breena were already at the restaurant when they got there, but no sign of Ziva and Tony.
They've been there just long enough for him to give Breena a hello hug, when Ziva and Tony show up. Tim stares at the three couples, and yeah, style.
They might be best friends, but there are some seriously different aesthetics going on here.
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Tony looks confused, Abby's smiling, Breena seems to get it, and Ziva looks intrigued.
Palmer grins. "You think you're Nine?"
"I'm the one in the jeans, leather jacket, and t-shirt."
"I suppose so. But really, Eleven? I don't look anything like Matt Smith."
"The suit." Tim stares at Jimmy's tie. "The bowtie?"
"Speaking of which..." Ziva pulls it off of Jimmy and hands it to Breena. "Not for where we're going."
"Oh." Jimmy undoes the top button of his shirt. "Okay. Still, when it comes down to it, I'm Four."
"Are you guys done with whatever massive geekery this is?"
"Sure, Tony," Tim answers.
Breena says to Tony, "You just got compared to David Tennant."
"Who?" Tony asks.
Tim's mildly surprised that Tony doesn't know who David Tennant is, but then again, he hasn't been in any of the sorts of movies Tony likes.
"Exactly," Abby replies, grinning widely. "So, if you're Nine, he's Ten, and Jimmy's Eleven, which ones of the Companions are we?"
And, while he might not see the resemblance, he does know what to do with it. He holds out his hand to her, smiles, and says, "If you want to see the universe, come with me."
Breena laughs, takes his hand, and lets him kiss her cheek before stepping back to Jimmy.
Jimmy, not to be outdone, says to Abby, "Amy?"
And she steps in close and lets Jimmy kiss her cheek as well.
Tony groans. "What is this, the mating dance of the geeks?"
The hostess turned to them and let them know their table was ready. "Thank God!" Tony says.
By the time they had gotten through the appetizers it was likely Ziva had been convinced to start watching Dr. Who. Tony, though regaled with the joy that is Dr. Who, was entirely unmoved by the idea of watching it.
One of the side effects of dating Abby is that Tim's gone from being a competent dancer to a fairly decent one. And not just for the bits of music that are inside his comfort zone. They go out clubbing about once a month. Not too much dancing at the Jazz clubs he likes, they're more of a sit, listen, and drink sort of space, but the Goth/Industrial ones she likes are the sorts of places they expect you to dance.
So, with practice, and with getting used to not just how she moves, but how the music moves her, he's getting better at dancing, especially with her, and his range of moves is increasing dramatically.
Of course, there's better at dancing, and then there's being dropped in a World Hip Hop/Techno club, the kind of music Ziva likes.
A few thoughts occur to him as they're walking in. First off, there's fifteen years age difference between Breena and Tony, thirteen between Ziva and Tony.
Ziva and Breena are awfully comfortable here. This might not exactly be Breena's favorite kind of music, but it's close enough to her idea of go out and party that she's fine.
He and Palmer are about five years too old for this. December 14, 1977 was a big day for both of them. (He's four hours older than Palmer.) So, for them, grunge and raves is part of whatever miniscule bits of party culture they picked up.
Abby... well, she's been at this a long time, and didn't stop, so she's got a wide and well-varied level of experience. And sure, she's a lot more Goth than anyone else around, but she gets the music pretty easy. The instruments are different, the lyrics are...well... actually Tim has no idea what the lyrics are. They could be as dark as what Abby likes, but since they aren't in English, he doesn't know. They sound perkier though. The music however, has a similar sort of feel, all beat, lots of percussion, this is grab you by the heart and hips and make you move music.
Like Abby, Tony's prime party days lasted a pretty long time, but he's got the whole frat party vibe thing going on, where the only reason there is music is to get the girls to rub up against you. And this is very much not a frat party.
Tim's getting the sense that if they get to pick the club again, Tony's going to insist on somewhere swanky and cocktail lounge-y.
The other thought that occurs to him as they walk in is that there are about nine thousand twenty-something guys here, all but drooling over his girl, and he's not about to be out-danced by any of them.
"How's the ring hunt?" Jimmy asks as he and Tim bring drinks back to their table.
"Nothing yet. Still looking."
"Promise me, if you haven't found anything by Fourth of July, you'll talk to a jeweler?"
"Why are you so interested in me doing this fast?"
"You have a fascinating definition of fast, Tim. It's June, you've been ring hunting for four months without finding anything."
"Not answering my question."
Jimmy shrugs a little, causing a bit of Breena's drink to slosh over the side of the glass. "Because if you two are engaged before Labor Day, I win the pool."
"Who's in the pool?" Tim's a little surprised he hasn't heard about this before now.
"Who isn't? Gibbs had money on before Memorial Day. Ducky has Christmas."
"Who's got money on Halloween?"
"Last I checked, no one."
"Idiots. Place a bet for me?"
Jimmy glares a little at him, but it's a mostly joking look. "I am not placing a bet for you on when you get engaged, and I'm sure as hell not doing it so that if you win, I lose."
"When does Tony have?"
"Fourth of July."
"Ziva?"
"She had Abby's birthday."
"What's the pool up to?"
"Fifteen hundred dollars."
"I expect a killer wedding present from you."
Jimmy grins. "Any day between July 5th and Labor Day and you'll get one."
He was dancing with Abby, close and fast, and it didn't take him long to notice she was edging them further and further away from the crowd.
By the end of the song, they were against the far wall. She took his hand and led him towards the back of the club.
"I noticed something when I went to the bathroom."
"What?" Tim asks, letting go of her hand to put his arm around her shoulders.
"There's this nice, little," and she nudged him behind a tall stack of liquor boxes, "alcove here."
It was definitely tight quarters, barely enough room for both of them. And, unlike the clubs she likes, this doesn't seem to be the sort of place where people run off and have sex in the back. (The fact that there's no one back there already would seem to indicate that.) Which means this was all sorts of right up his alley.
He's a little drunk, so they're not going to set any speed records, but she's usually pretty happy for that.
He presses her against the wall, facing it. It's a pretty nice wall for the back of a club, no graffiti or cum stains. (It occurs to him the kind of places he goes to with her are a lot different than the kind of places Tony and Ziva go.) For a moment, he just looks at her.
All of her back tattoos are visible, and he's going to kiss each and every single one.
His hand traces over her hair, knotting in it, lifting it, and then he places a soft, wet kiss on the nape of her neck, just above the top of her dress. He kisses down her neck, over to her shoulder, getting the first angel, then to the other, and she sighs, and presses back into him, squirming encouragingly.
He licks to the top of the cross, and drags his tongue over the lines, tracing it into her skin, stopping to nibble gently when he gets to the base of it, then slowly eases his way back up to press tight into her back.
His fingers trail down her arms, settle onto her hips, and he grinds against her.
He's inching her skirt up as he asks, breath hot on her ear, tongue teasing her neck between words, "What do you want?"
Her eyes close and she sighs again. His hands, now touching skin, go still on her hips, waiting for her to answer him.
She turns to look over her shoulder, and kisses him, tongue soft and wet, sliding against his. She broke the kiss when she felt him go hard against her ass.
Her hands snake between them, undoing his belt, starting on the button while she says, "One hand on my clit, the other on my nipple, while you fuck me from behind."
"Yes." He bites very gently on her shoulder while she finishes with his pants. He uses his foot to nudge her legs a little further apart, giving him better access.
His left hand pulls her panties to the side, holds them there, and starts on her clit while his dick just slides between her lips for a few strokes. His right hand slips under her top, finding her breast and nipple easily.
She reaches down, gives him some help with the angle, and he slides in deep and sweet, gently swearing against her neck as her body slipped wet and tight against his.
It's true that a little drunk slows him down, but it speeds her up, so it's not long before she's got her hands clutched into the hair at the nape of his neck, shuddering against him. He doesn't stop while she gets off, just slows down, face pressed into her shoulder while he continues to pet her.
When her body stops twitching, he stops, too, pulling out. "Turn around. Wanna see you, wanna kiss you, want you to see me come."
She does, grinning at him.
They're rocking against each other, enjoying it, this is good music to fuck too, nice, steady beat for it, and it's certainly not slow, but it's not too fast, either. Her eyes were on his, lips and tongues encouraging each other toward more pleasure, when her eyes slid to the left.
She's not looking at him anymore. She's looking over his shoulder. He stops kissing, stops moving, wondering if they're about to get tossed out of the club, really hoping they aren't about to get arrested.
"Hi Jimmy, Breena."
His head falls to her shoulder, and he starts to laugh. Of course Jimmy would home in on this, too.
He can hear the smile in Abby's voice. "Give us..."
He realizes she's expecting him to provide a time frame.
"Five minutes," he says, kissing her shoulder, very much not turning to look behind him.
"Fine," Breena chirps, also laughing. He feels a small hand gently pat him on the ass, and then hears, "Have fun."
He looks at Abby, eyes wide, giggling with amazement. "Did that just happen?"
She smiles at him, "Yeah I think so."
"She gets really flirty when she drinks."
"She hasn't been drinking, Tim."
"Huh."
"Five minutes?" she asks him, redirecting the conversation. "You that close?"
"I was before they walked up."
"Five minutes it is, then."
Four and a half minutes later, they were dancing again. And they didn't see Jimmy and Breena for close to an hour. Which suited Tim just fine. He knows that if he sees Palmer, he'll burst out laughing hysterically, and he's not sure he wants to explain this joke to Tony.
Okay, dancing with Abby against his front and Ziva at his back was a kick. He's thinking he could get used to the idea that they do this on a somewhat regular basis.
He's also happily imagining what would happen if they were to take the other four to the kind of clubs Abby likes.
Breena'd go for it in a heartbeat, and Jimmy probably would too. Ziva... He's imagining her Gothed out, and likes the image. Tony... that brings a smile to his face.
Yes, going dancing is a good idea.
And even with an hour, when Jimmy did come to sit next to him at their table, (the girls were dancing with Tony) his hair a little messed up and his shirt not quite as well tucked in as it had been before, Tim did burst into hysterical laughter.
Jimmy held his face straight for, oh, nine, maybe ten, seconds, and then joined him.
Finally he said, "Think Tony got laid?"
Tim watched him dancing with the girls. "Nope. He'd be a lot less keyed up if he had gotten laid."
Palmer smirked. "Hard to do when your girl is wearing pants."
"Hard to do some things if she's wearing pants. Not so hard to do others."
And then they both broke into giggles.
The music slowed down a little, and both he and Jimmy got up to join their girls, and then stopped, and sat back down again, quickly.
Ziva and Tony had paired off for the slower music, and so had Abby and Breena.
Abby had pulled Breena close to her, one hand on Breena's waist, the other on her shoulder. Breena's head was on Abby's shoulder, her hands on Abby's waist. And mostly it was just cute, the two of them swaying with each other. There was nothing overtly sexual about it.
At least, there was nothing overtly sexual about the way they were dancing with each other. The way Tim and Jimmy responded to watching them snuggled in close and swaying with each other was entirely sexual.
"Oh God," Jimmy whispered it, eyes wide, gaze riveted to the girls.
Tim exhaled a long breath, also incapable of pulling his eyes away.
Abby turned them so both of the guys could see her back, and Breena's fingers just teasing the skin of her low back below the hem of her dress.
"I think they're making sure we'll be up for another round," Tim said.
Jimmy shot back the rest of his drink. "I sure as hell am."
Abby slid her hand slowly down Breena's arm, stroking her fingers between Breena's, and Tim groaned quietly.
He stood up, and Jimmy grabbed his arm, yanking him back down into the booth. "No. You do not cut in on them!"
"But..." That sounded significantly more needy and less manly than Tim might have liked, but in a second Jimmy was in exactly the same sort of Oh-My-God-We-Talked-About-This-Hottest-Thing-I've- Ever-Seen boat as Breena slid her foot along Abby's leather boot clad calf, mesmerizing both of the guys with the sight of her small, shapely foot in a cute tan and white high-heeled sandal against the sleek black leather of Abby's boot.
"I don't care how badly you want to touch her. You do not stop this!" Jimmy wasn't sounding particularly in control as he said that.
So Tim sat and watched.
There was no kissing. No really obvious petting. No making out. Just four minutes of the two of them dancing, chest to chest, and occasionally touching in a way they knew would drive the guys crazy. It took Tim a minute to figure out that if the arm petting on Abby's part was deliberate, that Breena's foot lazily sliding up and down Abby's boot had to be as well.
When the song ended, the girls went to them, both grinning madly. As soon as they got near the booth, Jimmy tossed a hundred on the table, grabbed Breena, kissed the ever living daylights out of her, bending her back as he pulled her flush to him, his lips almost attacking hers, for a very long minute, and then headed off.
Tim sat in the booth, Abby on his lap, her fingers lazily stroking his skin below the collar of his jacket as the two of them watched Jimmy and Breena kiss.
And, okay, Jimmy still wasn't going to be showing up in any of his fantasies about Breena, but he certainly had not minded seeing that at all.
Abby kissed his ear, lips wet and soft, sucking gently. "You like that?"
He inhaled shakily. "Fuck, yes."
"Home or here again?"
"Neither of us should drive, and I want way more time than we can get here. There's a hotel three blocks down."
"Good."
Abby stood up, and he tossed his own bills on the table, more than ready to go somewhere private.
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