Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Shards To A Whole: Chapter 118

McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.

Chapter 118: The Nature of the Dom

Tim stood in front of their luggage looking at what they had brought.

Abby sat on the bed, smiling, wondering what he’d pick out.

It had taken him a while to get to the point where he was really comfortable doing this, but once he got there… Well, she’s never been disappointed at how wickedly creative he can be when he sets his mind to it.

And with the butterfly on the bed next to her, and the way he’s sorting through her clothing, and debating the kilt or a pair of jeans, she’s pretty sure that today is going to be a whole lot of fun.

The first time Tim Dommed, back the first time they dated, it took Abby a little while to figure out what was going on.

It was the fourth time they got together, after ‘the hinkey thing,’ which had been excellently hinkey, and she was looking for a way to say thank you, because he was the first guy who didn’t completely freak out about the play-dead-in-the-coffin thing, so they’d been on her sofa, making out, and she asked him what his kinkiest fantasy was, because no matter what it might be, she was game for it.

He stopped kissing her, blushed scarlet, and tried to brush it off.

That just got her more curious because this was the guy who tied her up the first time they had sex, so if he was blushing like that it had to be way out in left field, and curious slid to even more turned on, so she kept whispering questions about what it could be, suggestions, each one hotter than the last, and just talking about it had him majorly turned on.

Finally he closed his eyes, bit his lip, and took a really deep breath, held it, and let it out.

“You really want to know?”

“Yeah.” By that point she had images of hot wax, breath play, and maybe some cross dressing in mind because he kept saying no to all the things she was coming up with.

His shirt was off but he still had his pants on. He stood up, a few inches in front of the sofa, where she was lying, and said, “Sit up and face me.”

“Okay.” She sat up, turned, tucking her knees between his legs, and just looked up at him, licked her lips, smiling, waiting, which he seemed to like.

Then he said, voice low, little nervous, “Unbuckle my belt.”

So she did. Slipping the leather through the metal, and then through his belt loops. He was tenting his pants, though he was also blushing so hard she wasn’t sure how he had enough blood in his body to keep him that hard and that flushed.

When she finished with his belt she looked up at him and grinned.

He closed his eyes, took another deep breath, opened them, looked her in the eye, and said, voice steady, low, hot, “Take my cock out and suck it.”

Which was fine by her. Though she was wondering if he was just making something up on the fly, because as kinky fantasies went, it was kind of a dud. She’d given him blow jobs before, and yeah, he really appreciated them. (She had a sinking suspicion that his previous girlfriend had been awfully stingy in the oral sex department, but didn’t ask about it until years later, after they had finished dating, when they had been hanging out and talking about exes, and yeah, she had been right. Helen had only done it once over the course of the year they dated, and then spit. Which made Abby want to go find her and smack her upside the back of the head, because that’s no way to treat a man, and was especially no way to treat her McGee.) But a blow job wasn’t precisely kinky, let alone worth blushing so hard he looked like he might pop a blood vessel.

It wasn’t until he was telling her how to do it, that it finally occurred to her what the kink was. He was telling her what to do. He wasn’t asking, he was telling, and he was standing, all 6’1” and two hundred and ten pounds of him, towering over her, and she was on her knees, doing exactly what he was telling her to do, there entirely for his pleasure, and it had him so turned on he was leaking and trembling.

When he got off, he came so hard his knees buckled. And Abby swallowed. She always swallows, (She doesn’t want a guy acting like she tastes nasty, so she’s not about to do it to a guy.) but this time she made a little show of it, purring and milking him, letting him know she liked it.

After a few minutes, when he had calmed back down, he held her, and petted her hair, and told her how much he liked what she had done, how pleased he was by what she had done, and how he liked to do nice things for girls who made him happy, and then went down on her, and yeah, he wasn’t great at it at that point, but he was enthusiastic, and attentive, and it was an awfully nice orgasm.

As they got ready for bed, she could see his embarrassment come back. So when they were both naked and sleepy in her coffin, she explained that it was okay for him to like to tell her what to do.

He looked really relieved, and like he didn’t quite believe her. Because, like most guys who are into Domming but aren’t assholes, he had a hard time getting over the deeply ingrained idea that nice guys don’t do things like that. Nice guys ask. Nice guys always ask. Nice guys don’t get off on telling a woman to do things, and they certainly don’t have a little part inside that likes the idea of making her do something, and a nice guy really doesn’t get off on the idea of a woman on her knees, head bowed, worshiping his cock, there entirely for his pleasure. That’s the kind of sex that’s in porn, and nice guys know that that’s icky and objectifying, and they’re supposed to feel ashamed about getting off on it, because it’s demeaning to women.

Nope, nice guys don’t go for that, at all. They’re in it for safe, mutual, sanitary, and above all respectful (i.e. female directed and initiated) sex.

She’s always hated seeing guys who do like Domming feel so bad about it. But especially in Tim, who genuinely is sweet and gentle and cares, seeing him feel like there was something bad about wanting to be in control just made her mad.

And maybe she’s not a nice girl, but she always got off on seeing the aggressive, dominant side of him. Always liked it, always responded to it with a faster pulse, hotter breath, hard nipples, wet panties, do-that-again, and-do-it-fast, sort of way.

Telling his mechanic exactly what to do.
After that case in the women’s prison, after he inspected his car, made sure it was done exactly the way he had liked it, he headed to the lab, stood very close behind her, and quietly said, with a voice that let her know exactly what he wanted, a voice that sent shivers down her spine and felt like his teeth on the nape of her neck, “Have dinner with me.”

She turned to face him, and the look he was giving her was hot enough to melt her panties. What she wanted to do was bow her head and say, “Yes. Yes to anything and everything you want to do tonight. Yes to your voice in my ears telling me what you want. Yes to my body for you to play with. Yes to any and every sort of sex you want. Yes to my legs around your hips, my nails down your back, and licking your cum off my lips. Yes.”

But what she actually said was, “I’m sorry, I want to, but I can’t.” Because no matter how good that night would have been--and watching him check his car, hearing his voice, seeing  that look, she knew he had learned some new tricks since the last time they had slept together, and that night would have been amazing--the morning would have been complicated and unhappy, and she couldn’t take him looking at her, disappointed, wanting more than she could give.

He saw the look on her face, understood everything she meant by it, nodded, and left.

The second time they did it was less than two weeks after they started dating again.

He was a lot more confident and comfortable with it. No blush in sight as he tied her hands and told her to unzip him with her teeth. No waver in his voice as he talked her through blowing him. And when he untied her hands and told her exactly how he wanted her to play with herself so he could watch, his eyes stayed on hers, and he looked dead sexy doing it.

But there was still a tinge of nervousness.

Not about doing it, not about liking it, but there was that hint of fear of is-this-the-time-I’ll-whip-something-out-she-won’t-like.

Is this the time I’ll go too far?

She thinks she had Maxine to thank for that fear. She knew they had been dating, getting along well, and Tim had been happy and hopeful, then suddenly they weren’t. And while he had been willing to tell her about issues with other girlfriends, all he would say about Maxine was, “I never told anyone any of your secrets, and I’m not going to tell you hers.”

So Abby left it alone. But she still hated to see that bit of uncertainty in his face, and swore to herself, that no matter what he came up with, she’d treat him with care and never make him feel bad about the things he liked. She might not be willing to go along with it, but she’d never embarrass him or belittle him for it.

And, eventually, as time passed and he came up with new games, and she was interested in all of them, that nervousness eased, and since he shared the Breena threesome fantasy with her, it’s been gone.

A long time ago, she had been sitting at Kate’s, they’d spent the weekend together, awash in a tidal wave of girliness, and just having a really good time.

And by the time the bottle of wine was almost done, Kate finally asked her about Tim.

Well, asked might have been the wrong word.

“I don’t get it,” Kate said as she put her wineglass on the coffee table. They were lounging on her sofa, finishing off a bottle of Riesling.


“You and McGee.”

“He’s cute!” Abby’s voice got a bit loud and emphatic as she said that.

“Sure, he’s cute. He’s a big, adorable Labrador puppy of epic geek cuteness, but don’t you want…” Kate didn’t look like she quite knew how to finish that, but finally came up with, “Don’t you need someone who can challenge you? Who can stand up for himself?”

Abby looked at her curiously. “Are we still talking about McGee and me?”


Rule 12
“You sure? ‘Cause that sounds a lot like you and Gibbs.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “Gibbs and I is beyond dead on arrival.”

“He likes you.” Abby might not have been a trained investigator, but she wasn’t blind either, she saw the way Gibbs looked at Kate when Kate wasn’t paying attention. And she knew Kate had something of a crush on her boss.

“Not enough to get over his rules, and even if he was, I’m not crazy enough to date a man with three ex-wives. Let alone come onto my boss, who has a girlfriend. So, you and McGee, don’t you want some sort of challenge, you know, a guy who won’t just… do whatever you tell him to?”

Abby giggled. “Look, I like a guy who will do exactly what I tell him to, and you don’t even want to know how good McGee is at that. And he’ll stand up for himself, too. He was telling me exactly what to do last week and, yeah, he was nervous at first, because, well, when isn’t he? But he got into it, and it was a blast.”

Kate didn’t look like she believed that, at all. “McGee?”


Kate was really curious, the kind of curious she only got when enough alcohol was in her system to shut down her Catholic School Girl reserve. “Like what kind of telling you what to do?”

Abby sipped her wine, remembering, wicked little grin on her lips. “Like the kind where you say ‘Yes, sir. Please, sir,’ but don’t salute.”

Kate’s eyebrows shot up so fast and so high they looked like they were trying to migrate into her hairline. “McGee? Tall guy, good with computers, works out of Norfolk?”

“Yeah, McGee.” Abby smiled smugly at her.

“Really, McGee? The guy who blushes and stutters when you look him in the eye and ask him a question.”

“You have no idea. That boy has a mouth on him like you wouldn’t believe—“

“Yeah, I know, he’s cute.” Kate looked a little exasperated at Abby’s crush.

Abby smirked at her. “Not what I meant by mouth, but seriously, he does have the cutest lips ever. The little pouty thing with the bottom one…” Kate just stared at her, obviously not seeing what Abby saw in Tim. “Anyway, once he gets comfortable that stutter-y, nervous exterior goes away and… just… McGee is a whole lot of fun and up for anything you can think of.”

Kate had looked very pleased by that. “Huh… maybe there’s some hope.”

“Hope for what?”

“Hope that there’s a guy who can drag your heart out of that lock box you’ve got it hidden in. I think being in love would be good for you, and if he can make you say ‘Yes, sir,’ maybe he’s the guy to do it.”

Two weeks later, after a night of really good sex, where Tim showed her that he was just as happy to get tied up as he was to do the tying, Abby realized that Kate was right, he could do it, so she broke up with him, terrified of what would happen if he did drag her heart out into the light.

Abby watched Tim continue to mess around with the things they had brought, picking up her clothing and putting it back as different ideas percolated through his head, and she wished Kate could have seen that she was right. 


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