50. Research
He's at the stove, finishing up dinner when he hears the door open. She had court today, and some days that means she beats him home, others it means she doesn't. And while there's not a ton or rhyme or reason to who gets home first, whichever one of them does ends up in charge of dinner.
"Hey."
She walks in and kisses his cheek. "Smells good."
"Thanks." He puts the spatula down, turns from the stove and kisses her hello properly. "How'd court go?"
"Pretty well. Can't say much beyond that because you're on the witness list for Friday."
"That case."
"Yeah." Witnesses usually are not allowed to watch each other testify. That way they can't take notes and support or deconstruct each other's testimony. Somewhere in the tens of hundreds of pages of evidence, depositions, and disclosures NCIS hands over at the beginning of each trial, there's a clause about how the two of them are living together now, but so far no lawyer has tried to bring that into play.
He's
got his sleeves rolled up, something he usually does when cooking. Her
fingers trail over the cuff he's wearing on his left wrist. "I really
like this on you."
He looks at it and shrugs. It's the plainest one she had, just black leather imprinted with an arabesque, with silver snaps. He's not a jewelry kind of guy, but he does kind of like it on him. It's a somewhat subtle signal that maybe he's not quite as mild and buttoned up as his clothing would suggest. "I'm liking it, too. When this heals up," The bruise on his left wrist was a yellowish ghost of its former self. "I think I'll keep wearing it."
She smiles. "Sexy. If you're going to keep wearing one, I think we need to get one specially for you."
He kisses her again. "Thanks. I like this one, and I like the fact that it's yours."
"Awww... That's so cute." She gives him a quick pat on the tush. "How long before it's ready?"
He looks at the salmon, pokes it gently. "Five minutes?"
"Okay, I've got to get out of this. I'll be back soon."
Part
of him wants to go watch her get out of her court suit. The rest of him
knows she hates that outfit and doesn't want anyone, let alone him, to
see her in it. So he grabs some glasses and pours their drinks.
She comes back to their kitchen a minute later in her bathrobe, a long, ornate black kimono with white branches and cherry blossoms on it. She's holding a small black bottle labeled Spunk in her hand and staring at it.
She's found the newest addition to their toy box.
"McGee?"
"Yeah?"
"What is this?"
"Lube."
"Uh huh..." She's still staring at it. Like it's some exotic specimen she's never seen before.
"So, I was doing some research, and I think I might know why it hurts when I do it. Apparently glycerin based lube can dry out pretty fast. It's fine for straight sex or the inside of a condom, but the anus doesn't make any of its own lubrication, so you end up sore."
"Okay."
"So, I started researching silicone lubes. And this was the highest ranked one I could find."
"Ranked by whom?"
"I checked out a few gay sex sites. I figured if anyone would know..."
"Yeah, that makes sense and all..." She opens the top and drips a little on her finger, then rubs it between them. "It's nicely slippery."
"Yep."
"Have you tried it out, yet?"
"Did the same thing you just did, but nope, waiting for you to get home to play with it."
"Didn't want me coming home and finding you jerking off with something called Spunk?"
The expression on his face is somewhere between a smile and a smirk. "Something like that."
She's giving him a playful look, and he can feel the teasing subtext to it.
"I'm really not bi."
She's still staring at him, then looks at the dribble on her finger. It looks exactly like what a lube called Spunk should look like.
"And I don't have a bukkake kink."
She smiles and laughs at that.
"Really, it was very highly rated. Lots of guys love this stuff."
"Did any women love it?"
He smiles. "People claiming to be women wrote very pleased reviews on the website. And they sell the stuff in gallon jugs, so someone's gotta love it."
"Gallon jugs?" Her eyes are wide as she stares at the lube on her fingers.
"Yeah. I honestly don't want to think too hard about what you're doing if you need gallons of it."
She licks the finger she'd dripped some of it on. "No taste."
"I specifically looked for that. If I'm going to be licking you, I want to taste you, not whatever artificial flavoring they dump in."
"You like how I taste?"
He steps closer to her, sniffs where her neck and ear meet, and kisses gently. "I'd bottle it and use it to flavor lube for when I'm alone if I could."
Her eyes narrow a little, the way they do when she's curious, not angry. "What exactly do you do when I'm not here?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" He grins and then takes the salmon out of the pan, putting it on plates.
"Yeah. I would."
"Honestly, these days, not all that much. If I jerk off, I'm less interested in sex after, sometimes for as long as a day or two. So, since we've been together, unless I know for a fact I'm not going to see you, like, say, Gibbs drags me to the other side of the planet again, I just don't. I'd rather spend the night horny and wake you up with a smile."
"You're saving up for me?"
"Yeah. Not nineteen anymore, so I can't get it up six times a day, and I'd rather not waste it."
"I don't know, after Jimmy's wedding would argue otherwise."
He grins. That day had been a personal best for him with six times in thirty-four hours. "I was feeling extremely motivated that day. I can't usually, or often, do that."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. Got home the Tuesday after, thought about jerking off, 'cause we had a case starting up and I didn't know when we'd have time together again, and lots of good memories for it, but my dick just looked at me and said, 'You're kidding, right?'"
"It talks to you?"
He laughs. "Sometimes."
She smiles at that. "So, after dinner, you want to put this stuff through its paces?"
"Oh yeah."
Next
A/N: Spunk is real, and my gay buddies swear by it.
He's at the stove, finishing up dinner when he hears the door open. She had court today, and some days that means she beats him home, others it means she doesn't. And while there's not a ton or rhyme or reason to who gets home first, whichever one of them does ends up in charge of dinner.
"Hey."
She walks in and kisses his cheek. "Smells good."
"Thanks." He puts the spatula down, turns from the stove and kisses her hello properly. "How'd court go?"
"Pretty well. Can't say much beyond that because you're on the witness list for Friday."
"That case."
"Yeah." Witnesses usually are not allowed to watch each other testify. That way they can't take notes and support or deconstruct each other's testimony. Somewhere in the tens of hundreds of pages of evidence, depositions, and disclosures NCIS hands over at the beginning of each trial, there's a clause about how the two of them are living together now, but so far no lawyer has tried to bring that into play.
He looks at it and shrugs. It's the plainest one she had, just black leather imprinted with an arabesque, with silver snaps. He's not a jewelry kind of guy, but he does kind of like it on him. It's a somewhat subtle signal that maybe he's not quite as mild and buttoned up as his clothing would suggest. "I'm liking it, too. When this heals up," The bruise on his left wrist was a yellowish ghost of its former self. "I think I'll keep wearing it."
She smiles. "Sexy. If you're going to keep wearing one, I think we need to get one specially for you."
He kisses her again. "Thanks. I like this one, and I like the fact that it's yours."
"Awww... That's so cute." She gives him a quick pat on the tush. "How long before it's ready?"
He looks at the salmon, pokes it gently. "Five minutes?"
"Okay, I've got to get out of this. I'll be back soon."
 |
| link |
She comes back to their kitchen a minute later in her bathrobe, a long, ornate black kimono with white branches and cherry blossoms on it. She's holding a small black bottle labeled Spunk in her hand and staring at it.
She's found the newest addition to their toy box.
"McGee?"
"Yeah?"
"What is this?"
 |
| Link |
"Uh huh..." She's still staring at it. Like it's some exotic specimen she's never seen before.
"So, I was doing some research, and I think I might know why it hurts when I do it. Apparently glycerin based lube can dry out pretty fast. It's fine for straight sex or the inside of a condom, but the anus doesn't make any of its own lubrication, so you end up sore."
"Okay."
"So, I started researching silicone lubes. And this was the highest ranked one I could find."
"Ranked by whom?"
"I checked out a few gay sex sites. I figured if anyone would know..."
"Yeah, that makes sense and all..." She opens the top and drips a little on her finger, then rubs it between them. "It's nicely slippery."
"Yep."
"Have you tried it out, yet?"
"Did the same thing you just did, but nope, waiting for you to get home to play with it."
"Didn't want me coming home and finding you jerking off with something called Spunk?"
The expression on his face is somewhere between a smile and a smirk. "Something like that."
She's giving him a playful look, and he can feel the teasing subtext to it.
"I'm really not bi."
She's still staring at him, then looks at the dribble on her finger. It looks exactly like what a lube called Spunk should look like.
"And I don't have a bukkake kink."
She smiles and laughs at that.
"Really, it was very highly rated. Lots of guys love this stuff."
"Did any women love it?"
He smiles. "People claiming to be women wrote very pleased reviews on the website. And they sell the stuff in gallon jugs, so someone's gotta love it."
"Gallon jugs?" Her eyes are wide as she stares at the lube on her fingers.
"Yeah. I honestly don't want to think too hard about what you're doing if you need gallons of it."
She licks the finger she'd dripped some of it on. "No taste."
"I specifically looked for that. If I'm going to be licking you, I want to taste you, not whatever artificial flavoring they dump in."
"You like how I taste?"
He steps closer to her, sniffs where her neck and ear meet, and kisses gently. "I'd bottle it and use it to flavor lube for when I'm alone if I could."
Her eyes narrow a little, the way they do when she's curious, not angry. "What exactly do you do when I'm not here?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" He grins and then takes the salmon out of the pan, putting it on plates.
"Yeah. I would."
"Honestly, these days, not all that much. If I jerk off, I'm less interested in sex after, sometimes for as long as a day or two. So, since we've been together, unless I know for a fact I'm not going to see you, like, say, Gibbs drags me to the other side of the planet again, I just don't. I'd rather spend the night horny and wake you up with a smile."
"You're saving up for me?"
"Yeah. Not nineteen anymore, so I can't get it up six times a day, and I'd rather not waste it."
"I don't know, after Jimmy's wedding would argue otherwise."
He grins. That day had been a personal best for him with six times in thirty-four hours. "I was feeling extremely motivated that day. I can't usually, or often, do that."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. Got home the Tuesday after, thought about jerking off, 'cause we had a case starting up and I didn't know when we'd have time together again, and lots of good memories for it, but my dick just looked at me and said, 'You're kidding, right?'"
"It talks to you?"
He laughs. "Sometimes."
She smiles at that. "So, after dinner, you want to put this stuff through its paces?"
"Oh yeah."
Next
A/N: Spunk is real, and my gay buddies swear by it.
No comments:
Post a Comment