Chapter 95: Dirty Girl Scout
“What are they talking about?” Breena asks Abby as she dances close to her.
Abby grins, watching the exchange. “Sex. Tim and Jimmy are scaring Tony.”
Ziva laughs. “What are they telling him?”
“About having sex here.”
“You had sex here?” Ziva asks the two other girls, not exactly surprised by this, but it wasn't something she was expecting either.
Abby says, “Yes, half an hour ago? Something like that.” A huge grin lighting her face.
“God, they’re so pretty,” Breena says, eyes on the boys, wrapping her arms around Abby.
And Abby nods, they really are. This was definitely going on her list of favorite Tim looks. Sure she loves the rock and roll version of kilt wear, but this version of it is awfully fine, too.
He’s sitting there, relaxed, happy smirk on his face, back against the booth, right arm draped along the back, left arm stretched forward, fingers on the rim of his glass. Long, smooth fingers, tipped with black nail polish, circling gently around the rim of a scotch neat.
You might need a jacket to get into this club, but he took it off a few minutes after getting here. An hour of dancing means the maroon dress shirt he had under it now has the sleeves rolled to mid forearm, showing off his wrist cuff. An hour of dancing also means that he’s undone the top button and his tie is loose.
What they were doing half an hour ago means that his hair’s a little more messed up than usual, something she always appreciates. Add in naked legs, strong calves on display, and yeah, she really likes that look.
Tony’s in the middle, and like always, he’s pretty. And honestly, he looks a whole lot like he usually does. Suit on, pressed, perfect, cool. Her eyes just sort of skim over him, and it’s not that she doesn’t love Tony, it’s more that classically handsome features and style just never really interested Abby. But Ziva, who’s eyes just skimmed over Tim in almost exactly the same way her eyes skimmed over Tony, is watching him, looking like she wants to eat him alive.
Abby knows that Tony’s pretty. Knows that he’s magazine cover attractive. And while she can appreciate that, it’s not the sort of thing she ever really looked twice at.
|Jimmy looking good.|
He’s leaning in toward the table, face warm and animated, talking to the guys about Ziva’s shoes, which is freaking Tony out a little. Like Tim, he’s holding his drink, but Jimmy’s the driver, so his is probably Diet Sprite. Unlike Tim, his glass is tall, and he’s got his hands touching, fingertips to fingertips, thumb to thumb, with the glass between his palms.
For the first time ever, Abby notices that Jimmy has really nice hands. And she also notices that a wedding ring on a guy is awfully sexy, and is suddenly really looking forward to seeing one, putting one, on Tim.
“Jimmy really likes your shoes,” she says to Ziva.
Ziva laughs. “It is good to know someone appreciates them.”
“Tony does too, just not as much as Jimmy does.”
“No one appreciates shoes as much as Jimmy does,” Breena adds, a wicked smile on her face.
Abby lifts an eyebrow. “So what is it with him and shoes?”
Breena smiles and pulls Abby and Ziva close, the three of them dancing together. “He likes the way they feel against him and the way they look when I wear them while we have sex.”
Ziva laughs while Abby says, “That’s it? We figured he liked to wear them.”
“How do you even know about him and shoes?” Breena asks, an amused and somewhat curious expression on her face. Abby’s not exactly Jimmy’s type, but she’s close enough, and if they had gotten together at some point, it wouldn’t have shocked her.
Abby reads Breena’s look. “Nothing like that. He was the main witness for one of our cases, but he blocked a lot of the memories, so I hypnotized him to get the details out of his head, and it turned out the main thing he was paying attention to was what sort of shoes Ziva and I were wearing. Tim was there and teased the hell out of him for a few days after that.”
That makes Breena laugh. “Tim was teasing Jimmy about sex? Pot, hello, it’s Kettle, you’re black.”
“Yeah. I know. But neither of them knew that about each other at that point. That’s part of what they’re talking about right now.”
“Really?” Breena asks.
“They look pretty cool with each other,” Breena says, eyeing both of them, watching as they double team teasing Tony.
“Yeah, they really do.” Abby nods.
And Breena and Abby just stare at each other and smile, both thinking the same general thing.
And it’s not something she minds being on the outside of. She loves Tim and Jimmy, but she can also see the way Breena and Abby watch them, and she knows they do not see the same thing she does when she looks.
And she sees something else, something that will never be true for her and Tony, let alone her and Tony and Tim and Abby or her and Tony and Breena and Jimmy, and that’s a sexual attraction that’s divorced from jealousy. Tony would have a fit if she looked at Tim the way Breena’s looking at him right now. And for that matter, she’d be miffed if Breena was looking at Tony the way she’s looking at Tim right now. But Breena and Abby are dancing together, undressing their guys with their eyes, flirting with each other and both of the guys, and enjoying it.
Judging from the way both of the guys are watching them dance, they don’t have a problem with it either.
Actually, judging from the way both of the guys are watching them dance, the only potential problem is that Abby and Breena might decide to stop dancing, which would probably make the guys pout.
Abby pulls both her and Breena closer, sliding against them as the beat shifts, keeping her eyes on Tim as she does it, and Ziva decides to ask, “Are the four of you sleeping together?”
Abby laughs, Breena blushes, and Ziva’s been reading people for way too long to miss the look that flits between the two of them.
“What’s making you think of that? Breena asks.
“Both of you are flirting with both of your guys, but not Tony.”
Abby grins. “Are we allowed to flirt with Tony?” and though there is a smile on her face, it’s a serious question.
Ziva rocks against Abby, Breena at her back, and thinks about the ring newly on her finger, and knows that whatever she says right now, they’ll honor. She thinks about years of Tony off hooking up with any girl out there and the amount of change he had to go through to get to a place where he could be monogamous.
Breena hugs Ziva. “Then we won’t. And no, we aren’t all sleeping together.” Though she notices another look that goes between Abby and Breena, and can see the two of them are thinking about it. “But, okay, last time we went clubbing, Abby and I danced together really close, got the boys wound up and… well, you can see the way they’re watching us. Let’s just say that night was a whole lot of fun.”
Abby nods. “So much fun!”
“That’s where you vanished to? We left to dance alone for a little while, came back to the table, found a pile of money, and you were gone.”
“We headed home,” Breena says.
“You got all the way home?” Abby asks with a half-disbelieving grin.
“Yeah, but I also got off twice on the ride, which was kind of interesting since I was driving. You?”
“Hotel three blocks down, both of us were too buzzed, too distracted, to drive.”
"And you are hoping to do something like that again?” Ziva asks.
"And you are hoping to do something like that again?” Ziva asks.
“Not exactly, since we’re your ride home, but watching them squirm is a lot of fun,” Breena says, eyes on Jimmy, but occasionally glancing at Tim, both of the boys watching the three of them dance together.
“And unlike Ziva’s club, there are a lot of decent hidden nooks in this one,” Abby adds, stroking Breena’s neck.
“Well, yeah, after we caught you and Tim last time, we made sure to pick a place with lots of room. Didn’t want to have to wait or cramp your style.”
Ziva feels like this shouldn’t be much of a surprise, there was that whole thing with Jimmy and Lee, and well, sure Tim looks pretty mild, but anyone paying attention knows he’s got something of an exhibitionist streak, still… “This is something you regularly do, sex out in public?”
“Is my lab public?” Abby asks.
Ziva makes a mental note to always make a lot of noise when heading to the lab. Sure Tim had told her about that one time, but she hadn’t realized one time was actually a habit.
“Since Molly, it’s a treat for us. You and Tony don’t?”
“No. I’m not good at… quiet… and it would be off putting to have an audience.”
Breena nods and Abby does too, leaning in to whisper into her ear, her hand stroking down Ziva’s arm, “Don’t want anyone calling the cops?”
“Something along those lines.” No, not really, but she doesn’t want to explain why having people watch is a problem.
Breena leans closer to them. “Tony just about spit his drink across the table when Abby did that. Looks like he’s enjoying the show, too. You want us to break this up and back off?”
Ziva smiles, looking at Tony, seeing a whole lot of hot, naked lust in his eyes, and then wrapped her free arm around Breena’s neck, adding a little grind to the way she was dancing with Abby, and watched his eyes bulge. And well, maybe this was sort of fun if it got him to look at her like that.
“We dance until the end of this song, then let us get our men.”
Abby rests one hand on Ziva’s hip and the other on Breena’s keeping them both pressed up close to her. “Good plan.”
The song ends and Abby stalks toward the table where the boys are. Tim’s eyes meet hers as she’s a few feet away, and a smile lights his face. She leans down to him, brushing her lips over his in a warm kiss, while wrapping her hand in his tie, gently pulling him up.
“Dance time?” he asks.
“Oh yeah.” Though she pauses for a moment to take a sip of her drink. She’d gotten it entirely for the name, a Dirty Girl Scout was just too good to pass up, luckily for her it’s tasty, too. Basically it’s a grasshopper, minty, chocolaty, and very smooth.
She sets the glass down, grabs the napkins under it, tucking them into his pocket. He feels her do it and grins widely. Since Zyphyer, he has brought tissues every time they’ve been clubbing, but they also already used the ones he brought.
Yes, that look in her eye was indeed signaling good things about to happen.
The music is loud and hard, throbbing away in a strong, sexy beat. They find an easy pace, pelvis to pelvis, legs entwined, dipping and grinding as the music dictated.
“Like the show?” Abby asks.
He kisses her, lips on hers, sliding down her jaw to her ear. “When don’t I?”
She grinds against him, getting what she’s asking across. But it’s been less than an hour since the last time, and he’s had a few drinks, so not much is happening for him on that end. Tim kisses her again, circling behind her, trailing his hands down her sides as he presses in close behind her, placing wet kisses on her throat and shoulder, fingers resting gently on her hips.
“My tongue’s always up for another round,” he says, flicking it lightly along her earlobe.
She turns in his arms, kisses him back, long and deep. “That’s an idea. But what if I want to take my time, get you good and hard for a nice,” she bites his lip, pulling it a little, “slow” she punctuates that by dragging her tongue across his lip, “fuck?”
His eyes sparkle at her, warm with sex and good humor, as he brushes his fingers through her hair. “Then keep doing what you’re doing, I’ll get there sooner or later.”
He kisses her again, sucking gently on her tongue.
“What were you drinking? It’s really tasty.”
“A Dirty Girl Scout.”
He raises one eyebrow, looking very amused at that idea. “A Dirty Girl Scout?”
“Yeah. Yummy, huh?”
“On so many levels. Were you ever a Girl Scout?”
She sees the gleam in his eye and knows where this is going to go.
“Oh yeah.” No not really, but this could be a lot of fun. “Until I was seventeen. Helped out with the summer camps until I was twenty.”
His eyes slide over her body as his fingers trail from her shoulders to her hips. “So you’d know something about Dirty Girl Scouts?”
“Maybe. Is that the sort of thing you’d like to hear about?”
“Oh yeah.” He kisses her neck, and she turns so her back is to his chest, following the music, letting it dictate their moves. He strokes his hands down her arms, twining his fingers with hers, and then feathering over her hands. “I’m wondering,” he says, lips on her ear, “what you looked like when you were seventeen. Mostly like you now? Little shorter maybe? Fewer tattoos?”
“And did you have a uniform?”
“Little green skirt, white button up shirt with green stripes, little green tie, sash with badges, something like that, you mean?”
Tim’s imaging that. Seventeen-year-old Abby in a Girl Scout uniform, and part of him is sure that like sex in the graveyard this is another thing that’ll be added to the why he’s going straight to Hell when he dies list, but he likes the idea too much to stop thinking about it. After all, it’s not like he’s having sex with a real seventeen-year-old. Not like he’s got any interest in any real seventeen-year-old. But this image, teen Abby, innocent looking outfit, maybe hiked just a bit too high and unbuttoned just a bit too much, yeah, that’s hitting most of his buttons just right.
One thing he’s always found interesting is that his brain and his body aren’t always on the same page. For example, right now his brain is awfully turned on. That idea, along with real Abby pressed up tight, dancing against him, the way she feels and smells, and the sound of her voice filling in extra details (White knee socks! Black mary janes!) about her seventeen-year-old self, all of that means his brain is in a very turned-on sex-right-now-yes!, sort of place. His dick on the other hand, does not seem to have gotten this message, yet, and it’s just lying there. According to it, he could be doing his taxes or something else completely unsexy.
Oh well, it’s not in charge, and as he said, his tongue is always up for another round. And he’ll happily enjoy talking each other off if that’s what’s on the menu for right now. After all, the club isn’t closing anytime soon, and his dick’ll get the message sooner or later.
Abby’s talking. “And of course, no boys are allowed anywhere near a Girl Scout camp, so a big part of being a scout was smuggling them in, and a big part of being a counselor was tossing them out.”
“Yeah, gotta find places to hide them, to find a few quiet moments together. And of course, if you’re in charge, you’ve got to be even better at finding those places. And the summer I was twenty, I was a counselor, and we were only a few miles down from a group of Wilderness Scouts. They were on the far side of the lake.”
And Tim gets where this is going, and he smiles. This is something they haven’t played with, tag team storytelling. He also appreciates her fast forwarding a few years, because if she’s seventeen, he’s thirteen, and well, thirteen-year-old Tim McGee would have been willing to give his left arm to get laid, but he also wasn’t anything anyone needs to be thinking about like that. Sixteen-year-old Tim was awfully lanky and gangly, but not nearly as… well… young.
“And if there’s one thing Wilderness Scouts like, it’s Girl Scouts.”
“Yeah. So, I was doing my nightly rounds, making sure none of the girls had wandered off in search of her very own Wilderness Scout.”
“Walking around the lake, looking for dallying scouts?”
“Yeah, seeing if I can find anyone taking advantage of the moonlight.”
“And you did. But not like that. I would have been sitting at the side of the lake, watching the sky, taking notes on where the stars were, working on my Astronomy badge.”
“’Waiting for someone?’ I’d ask.”
He can see it in his mind, she’d be standing over him, looking down. “’Ummm…’” Because sixteen-year-old Tim McGee was not what anyone would have ever called smooth.
“’You’re on the wrong side of the lake.’”
“’Sorry.’ I’d be scrambling around, trying to grab all of my stuff and probably dropping half of it as I did it.”
“I’d laugh a little, and help you pack up. ‘Astronomy?’”
“’Uh yeah… Trees are in the way on our side. Needed a better view.’”
“’Thanks.’ I’d sit back down, not looking at you, blushing from head to toe, rambling on about Pleiades and what I was charting.”
“I’d sit down next to you, listen for a bit, watching the stars. ‘What’s your name?’”
“’Oh, yeah, Tim. Hi. How about you?’”
“I’d hold out my hand to shake yours, half polite, half just wanting to touch you.” He pulls her a step closer, kissing her shoulder as they dance. “Wishing I could do something like that, but sure I’m way too much of a geek for you to ever think about me like that.”
“But I like geeks, especially cute, young ones on the beach in the moonlight. I’d take your hand, trailing my thumb over your palm, not letting go, and then lick my lips. ‘Hello, Tim.’”
He grins at her, desire and amusement lighting his face, watching her lips, and says, “’Hello, Abby.’”
“I don’t think you’d be grinning at me like that.”
“Well, no. Real-life-sixteen-year-old Tim would have been studying the sand, blushed so hard he glowed in the dark, started stammering about stars, and probably run away. But I don’t have to be real-life-sixteen-year-old Tim, that’s the fun of fantasy, right?”
“And this version of Tim is staring at you like you’re the most delicious thing he’s ever seen and he wants to eat you, slowly, savoring every mouthful.”
Abby laughs. “I like that idea.”
“Good. Because I’d lean in toward you, close my eyes, and kiss you, just a gentle brush of lips on lips.” And he demonstrated, letting his lips meet hers for a second, before pulling away. “And then I’d look at you, see if you were angry at me—“
“But I’m not. I’m smiling, still holding your hand, giving it a little squeeze.”
“I’d scoot a little closer to you, lean in, and kiss you again.” And once again he did. A bit longer, more confident this time.
And this time her lips moved against his, stroking gently.
“Seriously, are you two trying to out fuck the Palmers?” Tony asks with a laugh, his voice cutting into their game as he and Ziva danced close to them.
Abby blows Tony a raspberry and looks around, noticing that Jimmy and Breena are also dancing close and necking.
“I don’t think it’s a competition,” Tim answers. “We’re just playing.”
“Uh huh,” says Tony.
“Who’s winning?” Abby asks Ziva.
Ziva grins at them, her eyes scanning between the two couples. “I think Jimmy and Breena are a few points ahead.” Jimmy’s got one hand on the small of Breena’s back, the other on her cheek as they dance forehead to forehead, looking into each other’s eyes.
Abby kisses Tim, soft and gentle, and then pulls back and turns to Ziva and Tony, flicking her hands toward the far side of the club. “Then shoo. Let us catch up!”
Ziva winks at them, and edges Tony further away.
Abby kisses him again, and once again it’s soft and gentle, and a little tentative. His hands slip down her back, one of them twining with her fingers, the other edging down to the bottom of her skirt and just lightly brushing her leg.
“So, you, me, the lake, night time, kissing,” she says.
“Oh yeah. You’re holding my hand, and my heart’s beating a million times a minute.”
She places her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. “And you’re so cute when your flustered.”
“And I am, because no one has ever just looked at me and liked me like that.”
He smiles and kisses her again, letting his fingers ghost along the side of her face and neck. “I’d pet you, like that. Shocked at how soft your skin is, how good it feels, how good just four fingers against your skin can make me feel.”
She closed her hand around his, pressing his fingers to her throat. “Feel that, how fast my heart is, how much my body loves yours touching mine?”
She drew his fingers to the dip of her collar bone. “You’d undo my top button.”
“You have your shirt buttoned all the way up?”
“I do in this fantasy.”
“All right!” His fingers traced two inches further down, very softly, just the barest graze of fingertips on flesh, then paused, hovering.
“’You can get the next button, too.’”
He nods, his fingers sliding another two inches down, to the top of her dress. “Where are your hands?”
She squeezes the one holding his. “The other is on your back, inching under your shirt, petting your skin.” She doesn’t exactly mimic that. Her hand stays on the outside of his shirt, but it does stroke over his low back, just above where it’s tucked into his kilt.
He’s loving this slow, gentle touch, and thinking this might be a good game for a time when they are home and alone and have plenty of room and can get completely naked. Though, if they were home, and alone, and could get completely naked, they probably wouldn’t play with the idea of this. He’d just peel that dress off of her, and she’d have him naked in a minute, and this slow tentative dance wouldn’t happen.
But it is happening, and she’s kissing him soft and gentle, and he says, but doesn’t do, because they are in the middle of a dance floor and this isn’t Zyphyer, “I’d flick open the third button, and slip my hand into your blouse, skimming over your breast. So soft, and so light, and my hand would be shaking.” And that idea, that image, her sitting on the sand next to him, holding his hand, petting his back while he lightly strokes her breast starts to wake his body up, lets it notice that his brain is thinking sex in a big way.
They’re dancing close enough that she notices the slight stirring and grinds against him, encouraging it.
He smiles, kissing her soft and open, letting his lips make love to her, as his body rapidly starts to catch up to his brain.
She slips her hand from his low back to his hip. “I’d start to tug on your shirt. Letting you know I want you to take it off.”
“’Only if you take yours off, too.’”
And she grins. “I would. I’d pull back a little, kneeling, make sure you could see me, and undo the last of the buttons.”
“I’d reach out, hands still shaking a little, and push it off your shoulders, and then sit there and just stare at your beautiful skin under the moon.”
“’You’re still wearing your shirt.’”
“’Oh. Yeah.’ I’d yank it off, regretting the few seconds it was over my head and I couldn’t see you.”
“’You can touch, you know.’”
“I’d lick my lips, and scoot closer to you, pressing chest to chest and kissing you, hard and fast and deep.” He presses into her, rubbing his erection against her. “And your skin on mine would have me so hard. I’d be breathing fast and feeling so good all over.”
“I’d push you back, so you’re lying on the sand, and then straddle you, rubbing against you before lying against your chest and kissing you.”
“And this is why fantasy Tim is better than real life Tim, because real life Tim would have lost it right there.”
“Half-naked girl rubbing up against me, oh yeah. Of course, real life sixteen-year-old Tim could get it up again in about four minutes, so it wouldn’t have been that big of a problem, besides the whole wet and sticky thing.”
“Yeah, but I’ve got plans for fantasy Tim, and they don’t involve being wet and sticky, yet.”
She grins and kisses him, then pulls back, letting her hand ghost gently across the front of his kilt, giving him a quick squeeze before resettling on his neck. “Yet. Fantasy Tim isn’t going back to the Wilderness Scout Camp a virgin.”
|Fantasy Tim approves.|
He can feel it, soft, cool sand at his back, her weight on his body, naked back under his hands, her hands on his neck, as they kiss.
He shifts one hand from her back to her leg, once again just below the hem of her dress, warm skin on skin, and she rubs her leg against his, drawing it up and a slow, firm slide.
“I would have been wearing shorts, and the kilt’s pretty close to that. Love feeling your skin on mine.”
“Yeah, this is good.” Her leg slips back down his, and for a few beats they just dance, kissing a little, feeling the press of each other’s body and the throb of desire and loud music.
“I’d roll us over, and lean back a little, weight on my right elbow. Never seen real live breasts before and I want to look and touch and kiss.”
He runs his hands over her arms, and then begins to stroke the tip of her index finger with his left hand, letting her feel how he’d be touching her. “Oh yeah. Love your breasts. So soft and perfect. I’d be nuzzling, licking the one, petting the other. Seeing what sort of touch makes you squirm, what makes you gasp or moan.”
She presses her face into his neck, licking his earlobe. “That. That light, gentle lick. The way you’re just rolling your tongue around my nipple, all wet, soft, and tickly. That gets me moaning. And I’d want to make you sound like that. Want to hear you. So my hand would slip down to your dick, and give you a squeeze.”
He kisses the top of her ear, and quietly moans for her. “Just like that, baby.”
She looks at him and grins. “’Love hearing you like that.’”
“’Love the fact you make me sound like this. Want to make you cry out, make you scream my name.’ I’d kiss my way down your chest, down your stomach, get to the top of your skirt and start to tug it off.”
“I’d lift my hips, give you some help getting me naked.”
“’You’re so pretty.’”
He stops dancing, wrapping his fingers in her hair, and pulls her head back a little, kissing her throat, and then looks deeply into her eyes while saying, “Absolutely fucking gorgeous. Moonlight made flesh. Flesh made desire. Desire driving me crazy, making me want to bury my tongue and fingers and cock in you all at once, make you come a thousand times, calling my name, arching against my body, wet and hot and slick and tight, and sex and love and fuck and all of it made flesh and real and my body on and in yours, and yours on mine, and both of us slipping against each other, rocking toward ecstasy, riding higher and higher on the pleasure of skin on skin.”
“Fuck,” she breathes it, holding his gaze with hers, reveling in the feel of those words and the heat in his eyes. “No more fantasy, Tim. Let’s get off the dance floor.”
Back room, private room, ladies' room, nook behind a door, storage alcove, back alley, he’s got no idea where they are and could care even less. There’s no one right nearby and that’s all that matters.
“Sit down,” Abby says.
And he does, legs in front of him, back against the wall, noticing the floor is a little cold, but she settles onto his lap, face to face, hiking up the kilt enough to get access to him, and slips onto him.
He bites his lip as his head falls back against the wall. “Fuck, baby!”
She groans softly, snuggling into him, spreading out her skirt a little. They could be, if you didn’t look at their faces or missed the slight rocking motion, just taking a break, snuggly and close.
He wraps his right arm around her, a gesture that did look tender and protective, while his left scoots under her skirt, finding her clit.
His lips press against her shoulder, and she turns a little to kiss his temple.
“Slow?” he asks.
So his thumb begins a soft, languid dance, barely moving over her skin.
“So good.” She gives him a quick and firm squeeze, and he groans. “I was wondering, can you get me off hard enough, slow enough, to get you off without anything else?”
His eyebrows rise. He’s always loved riding her orgasm to his own, and he’s certainly gotten her off long and hard before, but without any friction, especially on a second round… “Don’t know, but I’m up for trying.”
She squeezes him again. “I thought you’d be.”
“You keep doing that and it’ll be a lot easier.” Sure friction works better than pressure, but pressure is good, too. And the pressure of her clenching around him, as his thumb rubbed in slow, firm circles, faster to get her closer, stopping dead when anyone walked by them to spin it out, letting the music dictate his pace, yeah, that was awfully sweet.
Apparently the correct answer is no. Just pressure, sweet, hot, pulsing pressure isn’t enough. Not on a second round, not after two scotches. Maybe if they had done this first, but they didn’t, so it’s not enough to get him off.
It is enough to get him so frustrated he wants to cry. It’s enough to keep him rock hard, begging for any friction, at all, because by that point even the suggestion of friction would do it for him, let alone any real friction.
And it’s enough that once she calmed all the way back down again, she made sure to have a good firm hold on the base of his dick as she pulled off because he would have gotten off otherwise.
And it is more than enough to make sure that once she had him standing, all she had to do was slip her mouth down his dick once, and his head was thrown back, and he was shaking, trying not to yell at how good that climax felt.
And maybe he does have an exhibitionist streak, and maybe in ten years waiting to get home will make sense, but right now, he’s with the sexiest woman on earth and he loves her more than life itself and he’s high as a kite on all the happy chemicals flooding through his body and this feels so damn good that he can’t imagine not doing it.
They stand there, leaning against the wall and each other, relaxing, kissing gently, and this is just all sorts of fine.
On the ride home, he catches Palmer’s eye, and knows that Jimmy gets this, and he suddenly feels really sorry for Tony that he was hooking up with nameless strangers for all those years and missed out on it.