Series: - No Series - #1
Chapters: 001 Word Count: 3449
Character(s): Jethro Gibbs, Abby Sciuto
Category(ies): Angst/Drama, PWP
Summary: When a historic snowstorm traps Gibbs and Abby together, the tension between them rises.
“Okay, Gibbs, I’m ready. Give it to me. How much?” Abby asked, her voice breathless and huskier than Gibbs could remember.
“More than you can handle, Abbs. Much much more than you can handle,” Gibbs emphasized, straightening up from his position leaning against the mantel. He drifted over to the picture window, sighing at the sight of the drifts in the front yard.
“Come on, you so know I can handle it.” Abby got off the couch and moved closer, her face set in worried lines, The spark had gone out of her eyes.
“Forty-two inches,” Gibbs replied, motioning to the ruler he’d attached to a PVC pipe and placed in the front yard just before the snow had started falling.
“Forty-two inches of snow have fallen in the last…” Abby took his wrist, twisting it so that the dials were readable in the low light. “Fifteen hours?”
“Why aren’t we at Ducky’s with the rest of the team?” Abby asked, her lower lip starting to protrude. They’d had this conversation a few times already.
“Told ya you could go, Abbs.”
“I didn’t want you to be alone,” she said, giving him a brave smile. “Because, Gibbs, you would be eating baked beans out of a can and cooking over the fire and…” Gibbs watched her eyes track the half eaten cans of food on the coffee table and the grill by the fire. He couldn’t quite hide his smirk, though he did try.
“And?” he dragged out, arching a brow.
“I didn’t want you to be alone, okay?” Abby burst out. She wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her arms through the thick material of one of his sweatshirts.
Gibbs felt bad for her; if she hadn’t been so stubborn, she could have been at Ducky’s with the rest of the team. Before cell phone service had completely died, he’d been calling DiNozzo every two or three hours. The rest of the team—even Palmer—were at Ducky’s. They had food, drink, board games, and as many stories as Ducky could tell. Ducky’s area of Reston had underground power lines and they weren’t likely to lose power. They’d be fine, even if they did get cabin fever after a while.
Abby really should have been with them, but that damned stubborn streak had kicked in. She’d gone toe to toe with Gibbs about him coming, even though she knew there was no way he could. Reston was only about twenty miles from DC, but in this weather, and with the roads—even the Dulles Toll Road—so bad, Gibbs couldn’t risk it. He knew Marco Balboa’s team had been brought in as backup for this storm; that his team was free for the next seventy-two hours, that even Abby and Ducky had been relieved. They’d all been stuck at the Navy Yard last month when DC had experience another historic snowstorm and Vance had insisted that Gibbs’ team be rotated off this time.
Gibbs didn’t like it, had opted to stay home in Arlington, where he was much closer to DC. Had insisted; told Vance and Marco that they could reach him and he’d be in as soon as possible, no matter what the conditions. Plus, he had his neighbors to look out for. Most of the families on his block were older, and he would help dig them out as best he could. He’d ridden out his share of natural disasters in this house and had no intention of leaving.
But Abby didn’t need to be here.
Gibbs had known he was going to lose power. When the icicles had started collecting on the power lines outside his house, the tree limbs coating with ice, he’d seen it coming. While he kept his own trees well-trimmed, and tried to do the same for the more elderly neighbors, there were those who didn’t believe overhanging branches were a problem. Those who hadn’t lived through other bad snowstorms in DC.
Gibbs knew better and had prepared for the worst. He’d gathered all the blankets he knew they’d need and dragged the mattress into the living room, Abby watching him curiously the whole time.
She’d jumped into motion when he piled a few blankets against the base of the picture window. While he’d built a fire, she’d made up the mattress. She’d pulled her small suitcase into the living room, and had warmed up some coffee when he’d gone outside, shoveling Mrs. Barton next door and Mr. and Mrs. Genovese across the street out as best he could, despite the rapidly falling snow and blustery winds. He’d invited the neighbors over, but much like him, they wanted to ride out the storm in their own homes.
Just after Gibbs had returned to the house, the lights had flickered fir the first time, and an hour later, the power gave up the fight. He had some lanterns that he’d light when it got fully dark, but right now the snowscape gave off enough light for them to see each other by. There would be a point in time—probably sooner rather than later—when Abby would want to read whatever thick books he’d noticed in her overnight bag, but for now, the weather seemed to be fascinating her.
“Southern girl like you, haven’t seen this much snow in a long time, right?”
“Never,” Abby replied seriously. The blizzard a few years ago was nothing. And we were at the Navy Yard, so watching the snow fall there from the squad room was different…” Abby shrugged and even in this light, Gibbs could see the concern in her eyes.
“Abbs, we have food, water, and heat.” And even three bottles of her Caf-Pow. He motioned over to the fireplace, where the can of beans still sat. They’d eaten better than most people during this storm and Gibbs had a lot of canned goods. They would be fine for days.
Gibbs looked at Abby, taking in her expression, her concern, the veil of panic starting to rear its head. “We have everything we need, Abbs.”
“No we don’t. We really don’t Gibbs! We should be in Reston with the team!”
“But we’re not, Abbs,” Gibbs said smoothly, taking her by the shoulders. “They’re safe. There’s just no phone service to them right now. Calm down. Settle down, Abbs.” Gibbs could feel the shudder tear through her before she pulled in a sigh, her breathing uneven.
“I just don’t like us being apart. This is bad, Gibbs. Really bad.”
She swayed a little closer, and for a moment in time, Gibbs found his resolve starting to crumble. “Abbs,” he said quietly, his voice low.
“Gibbs,” she replied, blinking rapidly. He wished he could see her eyes, to read her expression. He couldn’t take that step until he knew…
“Right, so um…” Abby stepped back a pace. “What should we do next? Poker by firelight? Ghost stories?”
Gibbs watched her, blinking a few times and then nodded briefly, adjusting to the shift in mood. “You had some stuff to read…” He trailed off, drifting away to light the two lanterns. It was almost dark enough for them to be of some use to him.
“Yeah. I even brought a book light for each of us.” Gibbs watched her pull out a thick paperback book, and a thinner volume. She arranged those on the coffee table, then turned back to her bag. “I have a forensic journal here somewhere too.”
“Snowstorm, Abbs. Forget about work. What are you reading?” he asked her, curious.
“A friend of mine recommended one of these,” she replied, her face coloring deeply as she met his eyes, shuffling closer without her usual enthusiasm, working her hands around the book lights in jerky motions. There was something to this, Gibbs realized.
Before Abby could get close enough to stop him, Gibbs swept the books off the table, angling their covers down so that the light shone on them. The first book featured a woman showing some leg and cleavage, her wrists bound. “A Pound of Flesh,” he remarked, trying to ignore what the very idea of this book was doing to him.
“Yeah, it’s…” Abby waved her free hand. “Complicated.”
Gibbs read the blurb in silence, shocked to find that it was just about what he’d expected, realizing it was much more than he’d expected. He swallowed back his own feelings and emotions and looked at the cover of the second book. This one was battered and well-worn, the edges of the cover a bit ragged. It looked well loved. The deep blue cover and topless woman drew his eye and the blurb at the back aroused more than his curiosity.
“Kushiel’s Dart,” he commented, his mouth suddenly dry. “Looks like a favorite, Abby.”
“It…is.” She was as awkward as he was, reacting to the room being charged with emotion by pulling inward. He couldn’t push this, even though he desperately wanted to know more. Why was she reading books about courtesans and slaves anyway? What did it mean? Did it mean anything? Taking that and the outfits she wore—as stereotypical as they were—made him think and wonder. In these close quarters, that wasn’t a good thing.
“What are you reading?” Abby asked, her voice high and tight. He saw it for what it was—the desperate need to change the subject. He’d allow it for now.
Gibbs handed over his book, watching her study the cover. “The Amber Room. Historical novel?” she asked.
“Adventure,” he replied, watching her leaf through it. He was tempted to say if she showed him hers, he’d do the same, but he didn’t dare push things that far. Not when there was so much swirling between them. Instead of doing what he wanted, Gibbs plucked the book from her hand, taking one of the book lights she had tucked into the crook of her shoulder. His thumb brushed over her breast and she sucked in a breath when his thumbnail brushed over a hard nipple. She wasn’t wearing a damned thing under his sweatshirt and that made him bite back a growl.
Gibbs swallowed hard, trying to will his body into calmness, trying to settle down. The conversation and Abbs’ nearness were getting to him. Expelling a sigh he didn’t even try to stifle, Gibbs grabbed a few warm blankets and made a nest on the couch. It would be much smarter for him to read in the chair, letting her have the couch, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that. Anyway, it would be warmer for the two of them to be sitting close together, sharing body heat.
Gibbs gulped down his emotions and desire, clipping the light onto his book and sitting down. He wrapped a blanket around his shoulder and patted the couch invitingly, a part of him feeling as if he was walking headlong into something he couldn’t control.
Abby gave him a small grin and settled down, clipping her book light to the thicker of the two books she’d brought along. “Reread that one a lot?” he asked casually, not letting on how interested he was.
“One of my favorites. The whole series, actually. There are like a half dozen books so far.”
“All of ‘em that thick?” Gibbs asked and Abby ducked her head, nodding and settling beside him. She wrapped herself in the blanket up to her chin, only her hands and head sticking out. Something about her pose screamed innocence to him and he found himself charmed.
They settled in, almost close enough to touch, both becoming completely absorbed in their books. Many hours later, Gibbs stretched, turning on the weather band radio.
“How many?” Abby asked and Gibbs studied the neighborhood. The glow of the lanterns inside the house sent off a glare that was reflected in the window, and the drifting snow further obscured his view. There was no way he could read his ruler, but he estimated that there were over four feet now.
“More, Abbs. Even more. We’ll be snowed in for a few days.”
“Great,” she said and even though he couldn’t see her face, he could imagine the glum expression on her face. “Isn’t all bad, Abbs. I’m here.”
“I know,” she replied, barely biting back her sigh. Gibbs stared at his watch, realizing the hardest part of the day was at hand. Being around Abby during the day was one thing, but being snowbound at night…that was another thing entirely. Gibbs looked down at the mattress heaped with blankets, knowing he had to take the bull by the horns here.
“Midnight, Abbs. Bedtime.”
“But, Gibbs, I’m just at the good part. Can’t I…”
He came around to the front of the couch, jerking his thumb toward the mattress. “Down there, Abbs. I’m tired and I need to sleep.”
“You’re not sharing?” she asked and this time he could clearly see her pout.
“No, Abbs.” This was bad enough; if he slept beside her, he’d spend the night fighting self control. “I’m good on the couch.”
“It’ll hurt your back, Gibbs.”
“So will shoveling tomorrow,” he retorted, putting a finger up to silence her protests. She didn’t like it, but outside of the thinning of her lips, she didn’t throw off any other outward reaction. Gibbs watched as she got up, stretching her legs. She walked over to her bag and pulled out a comfortably worn black shirt with little skulls and crossbones on it, a small smile playing over her mouth when she turned back to look at him.
“I get hot at night,” she said, apologizing as she hurried toward the bathroom.
Gibbs sure as hell didn’t, not when it was approaching fifty five degrees inside, the wind howling outside, separated by wood and glass. While she was gone, he changed out of jeans and into a pair of thick sweatpants. His sweatshirt and undershirt would keep him warm, and he had a thick pair of thermal socks on.
He made sure Abby would have enough blankets, leaving only three for himself. She needed to be warmer; he’d be fine. If he got cold, he could always go upstairs and put on another sweatshirt.
“Much better,” Abby said, her sultry tone going right to Gibbs’ cock, which sat up and saluted. Her eyes slid down his body and he stood stock still, knowing she could see the bulge that was distending the stretchy fabric. She took a sip of her Caf-Pow!, which he hadn’t even realized she’d refilled, the straw slipping between her lips as she pulled the fruity soda in.
Abby pulled the cup away from her mouth slowly, her eyes roaming down Gibbs’ body again. “Sure you don’t want to share the bed, Gibbs? I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.” Her voice was dreamy now, not at all his usual hyper energetic Abby.
“Can’t,” he said, knowing his voice held a world of regret. “Get some sleep, Abbs.”
She bit her lip, her hands twitching. Gibbs knew she wanted to say—or sign—something, but she didn’t dare. For some reason, she was holding herself back now.
“Okay,” she whispered, and for a second, he thought he saw the gleam of triumph in her eyes.
“Lights on or off?”
“Off. The fireplace gives off enough light.”
Gibbs nodded, checking the fire and turning the lanterns off. The room was bathed in a glow from the snow and fire, but it was plenty dark enough to sleep. He settled at one edge of the couch and wrapped a couple of blankets around himself, stretching out on his side and facing in toward the room—and Abby.
Abbs wiggled for a few minutes, trying to get comfortable. Finally she muttered something that sounded a lot like “damn thong” and a scrap of fabric went flying in his direction. Even though Gibbs hadn’t intended to, he breathed in deeply, trying to scent her on the fabric, or in the air. He wondered if he imagined the tang of her juices, adjusting his hard cock and giving it a tight squeeze. He’d been in tighter positions, but not too often.
Gibbs had just fallen into that twilight phase, where dozing gave way to deeper sleep, when he heard a light moan. He came awake quickly, Marine training forcing him to keep his breathing steady, his body still, though the rest of his senses were very aware.
Another moan, this time deeper and more throaty, tore through the room, followed by a sigh, barely more than one hitched breath. “Gibbs,” she whispered into the stillness of the night and if he strained, he could hear faint rustles, hands skimming over flesh, working inside flesh. Her musk drenched the air, the rich spice of her steaming up the room. She was soaked with arousal, he could hear and smell it. He wanted to feel it.
Gibbs opened his eyes fully, allowing himself to adjust to the darkness, one hand slipping inside his sweats to fondle his hard cock. There was no way he could do what he wanted to silently from his position, so he just squeezed himself again and again, quick pulsing bursts of sensation rocketing through his body.
“Gibbbsssss,” Abby cried out, a little louder now. Her legs were planted on the mattress, knees wide open, the sounds of her pleasuring herself ringing in his ears. Her body was starting to lift off the mattress now as she pressed against her hand.
“Oh, God!” Abby’s free hand fumbled and she grabbed the straw from the soda cup, plunging it between her lips and sucking on it—hard. Gibbs couldn’t help but wonder what that mouth would feel like around him, and as the sounds of her sucking air rang through the room, he shifted, freeing his cock, stroking it fast and hard. All pretense of hiding was gone; he had just one goal in mind. Release.
Abby’s moans were getting louder now, her body arching and writhing. The straw had fallen out of her mouth, but she was sucking hard on her fingers, dipping them under the covers and then tasting herself. It was just too damned much for him and Gibbs felt his balls drawing up, his body tensing.
“Don’t!” Abby’s voice rang out and Gibbs froze. He was right on the edge of coming, and he didn’t want to deny himself. Not when she was driving him crazy. But his hand clamped down hard on his dick, holding himself back, even if barely.
“I want to watch,” Abby whispered, kicking the covers off. Her legs were wide open, her hand moving between them. “Show me, Gibbs…show me.”
Gibbs threw the covers aside, his eyes boring into hers. He skinned the sweats off and stood, stroking himself for her, performing for her. He wasn’t going to last long, but he’d give her a damn good show.
He broke her gaze, his eyes roaming over pierced nipples to the legs spread wide open and the pink flesh glistening between them. “Show me too,” he whispered, his hand moving over his dick in sure strokes. His eyes returned to hers, body straining and thrusting outward, hips pumping, body coiling.
“Now, Gibbs!” Abby cried out, one hand beginning to twist and pull at a nipple, her fingers moving in and out. “Now! Oh. God. Gibbs! Gibbs! GibbsGibbsGibbsGibbsGibbs!”
Gibbs groaned low, sinking to his knees, his climax stealing all sense and strength. His eyes finally slid shut, the hot jets of liquid shooting much further than they usually did, his body shaking, his thought processes completely blown.
“Gibbs,” Abby’s voice was a little hoarse and a lot satisfied.
“You’re sleeping on the wet spot.”
Gibbs laughed, pulling off his shirts, grabbing the two blankets from the couch, and settling in beside her. “Lot to be said about sharing body heat, Abbs. And we’re snowed in, after all. Nothing to do but lie here close.”
“Mmmm.” Abby snuggled in tight, tucking her head against his shoulder. “It’s a start.”
“It is,” Gibbs shot back. Being snowed in did have its advantages.