i lowkey love corrupting my friends. like i say one thing and they repeat it, i show them a video on a topic and they love it, i make a sexual joke and then they say one back. like good job baby, just like momma!
summary → It starts with your boss slash older boyfriend's hand simply resting on your thigh while driving in one of the team's SUVs through the night. But it soon turns into your hand on the noticeable bulge in his tight pants, teaching him a long overdue lesson.
warnings → smut (18+ only), fem!reader, BAU!reader, secret relationship, age gap, teasing, handjob, car sex...?, heavy on the dog imagery, shamelessly pushing the desperate loser bottom Hotch agenda
author's note → This was supposed to be a blurb but after the first 500 words the story looked me dead into the eyes and told me it's a full fic. And now, a few days and this year's ESC later is! And I really don't what happened here, all I can say is that I am but a mere slave of the freaky spirits that possessed me to write this. Let me know what you think about it ;D
word count → 4k
masterlist(s)
The countryside outside your window passes by in a blur of various shades of black, the darkness closing in all around you, broken only by the blindingly bright headlights of the government-issued (and in your humble opinion, incredibly ugly) massive SUV you're currently driving in.
Well, you're not actually the one driving, Hotch is, because he insisted like the annoyingly caring boss slash secret older boyfriend he is, his focus solely and sternly on the road in front of you to keep the car from crashing into the thick line of trees standing next to your path through nowhere America, population: just you and him, and some forest dweller thankfully smart enough to wait for you to pass by them before stepping their paws or hooves onto the cold and bumpy asphalt.
You're just sitting prettily in the passenger seat, bored out of your mind with a headache brewing behind your eyes from the long and exhausting day you had that is already bleeding into the next one, examining the different secluded locations your current unsub dumped his victims' bodies to be discovered by unsuspecting hikers weeks or sometimes months later.
You scrub your hands over your face and rub your tired eyes which earns you a sympathetic chuckle from your personal chauffeur, his eyes never leaving the road ahead of you. You resign yourself to fiddle with the fancy radio of the SUV, skipping from obscure local station to obscure local station, from generic country song to generic country song before you turn the stupid thing off for good with a huff of grouchy frustration.
"Don't worry, the motel isn't far anymore, okay?"
If his low and gentle voice isn't enough to appease your mood, the big big hand that leaves the steering wheel in favor of coming to rest on top of your thigh definitely is. He softly squeezes your leg, his doting eyes finding yours for just a moment and you can't help but to smile at the man who stole your heart with his brown eyes following you longingly whenever he thought he was unobserved, with his awkwardly gentle touches and his sad attempts of what he thought qualified as flirting. The warmth of his palm seeps steadily through the fabric of your trousers into your own skin, the pleasant feeling spreading from there through your whole body and you relax into your seat, immediately mollified by this simple touch of his.
But as his thumb starts to rub slow circles into your clothed skin, even absentmindedly tracing along the inner seam of your pants, the depraved part of your brain that embarrassingly is always just a little bit horny for him deliberately misreads your boyfriend's innocent gesture and suddenly, your whole body is wide awake. You try to be good and ignore the tingling sensation between your legs each slow and heavy drag of his thumb against your skin feeds, but it gets more and more insistent by the second and you can't help but hope against hope that his deliciously thick fingers will be shoved down your panties to toy with your clit and fill up your lonely cunt within the next few minutes.
You're 99.8% sure that Hotch isn't sharing this particular vision of yours, with the remaining 0.2% wishful thinking at best, but that doesn't stop you from curling your fingers around his much larger hand and slowly, playfully bringing it closer to where you so desperately need it, need him.
Regrettably, your boyfriend, who is much more concerned with decorum than you could ever be, proves you right.
"Behave, will you?" he gently scolds you, a lovingly exasperated smile playing on his lips as he wiggles his hand from your insistent fingers. He shifts slightly in his seat then, raising his hand to your face, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before simply cupping your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin softly.
You lean into his touch immediately, the whine that spills past your lips making you sound incredibly pathetic but you don't care about that right now. You're exhausted and frustratingly turned on and just want him to make you feel good while you're enthusiastically returning the favor. If he actually loved you, like he always tells you he does in the stolen moments during cases or in the privacy of your apartment, he'd just stop the car on the side of the road and let you climb over center console onto his lap, let you spit in your palm to work him to complete hardness before pulling your panties to the side and sink onto his cock that you're actually convinced ruined you for any other man on the planet—not that you would admit that in front of him, ever. And then he'd let you ride him to your heart's content, you gasping and moaning on top of him as his infuriatingly perfect dick hits all those sweet spots inside of you with every sharp thrust while he hides his face in your neck, groaning wetly against your skin, his hands leaving bruises against the soft skin of your hips while desperately chasing his own release—until you're both shaking with ecstasy and exhaustion, the tinted windows of the SUV fogged up from your exertion, and your shared spend dripping from where you're connected so intimately, making a sticky mess of his trousers and the black leather of his seat.
But instead his thumb brushes lightly over your pouting bottom lip before he's leaning into your space to place an infuriatingly deep and lingering kiss to your lips, his talented tongue tracing the seam of your lips teasingly while his eyes flicker between your half-lidded and blissed-out ones and the dark road stretching in front of you.
The only thing that that kiss accomplishes is to stir the simmering arousal deep in your belly into a blue-flamed fire and make you a little bit stupid which he's completely aware of, smugly smirking against your lips before pulling back completely, even placing his other hand back on the steering wheel.
This time, you swallow the pitiful little noise rising in your throat, clinging to your last measly shreds of dignity with burning ears and the miserable throbbing of your neglected clit between your legs.
You stubbornly turn your head with your chin held high to watch the blurry darkness rush past your window instead of longingly staring at his side profile and strong jawline for the rest of the drive like your heart—your pussy—wants to. (Same difference, really.)
You hear him chuckle quietly to himself which only makes you raise your chin higher, visibly flinching when you suddenly feel the tips of his fingers ghost over the naked skin of your arm. He immediately squeezes your elbow in apology for startling you and you can't help the smile tugging at your lips at the sweet gesture, hoping he doesn't feel the goosebumps that his initial touch caused to rise on your skin.
Then he says your name all adoringly with that stupidly attractive voice of his and you aren't strong enough to not look at him then. The slow grin that forms on his handsome face and the cocky rise of one eyebrow however tell you that you fell right into his trap. Because apparently, he's not done teasing you yet—far from it.
But two can play this game, you decide with an overdramatic roll of your eyes, especially when he opens his mouth again, drawing out his words slightly.
"Be good for me, sweetheart, and I promise you I'm all yours when this case is over and we're back home."
The indignant huff that pushes past your lips at his words only makes him grin harder, the enticing crow's feet framing his eyes and the dimples at the corners of his mouth mocking you with how stupidly attractive you find them—find all of him, really.
But you're quick to wipe that grin off his face when you reach over and drop your hand to his lap, unceremoniously cupping him over his tight dress pants.
His reaction is everything you knew it would be—and then some.
Instinctually, his hips roll forward, pushing himself more insistently into your touch, into the warmth of your skin bleeding through the layers of fabric and the delicious pressure you're squeezing him with, his jaw going slack in the process, his control immediately slipping through his fingers as they're gripping the steering wheel for dear life. You revel in this sight without shame, without mercy, the realization of how much power you're holding over him giving you a headrush like it did the first time. And you're really not a good enough person to not exploit this little fact unashamedly, not when he was acting like that, toying with you like that.
He may have you wrapped around his little finger, but his leash is in your hands and you're keeping him on a tight rein.
Because for you and only you, this big bad, scary FBI agent becomes a docile little lapdog, one single assertive touch of yours and he's presenting his belly to you.
All bark and no bite.
Because while you're playing the role of his hypersexual younger girlfriend perfectly, not only easily 10 years his junior but also his subordinate for the extra sprinkle of office drama wrapped in an HR nightmare, he's the pathetically repressed and touch-starved middle-aged, overworked and divorced father who wallowed in shame and guilt over his 'inappropriate' thoughts and feelings for you until you showed him absolution by shoving him into his office one night when the bullpen was completely deserted and simply yanking his tie down until his lips crashed into yours.
And you're very happy with your complementary roles in this still-secret relationship of yours, because you know you're only acting like you are with him, because he's the first and only man you have ever fully trusted with your body and soul, with every fiber of your being, knowing with absolute certainty that your trust won't be broken.
You're even more pleased about it when his head falls back against the headrest of his seat and a rough moan reaches your ears, a guttural sound coming from deep within his chest that resonates between your legs. And for now, you're kind enough to continue your ministrations, not when he's standing at attention for you so nicely after only a few light and teasing touches of yours.
Your usually so composed boyfriend curses under his breath which in your humble opinion is one of the hottest things he can do, only surpassed by staring down patronizing and sexist small town police officers with a superiority complex and calmly but sternly putting them into their place, or rolling his shirts above his elbows to do literally anything. Bonus points if he's wearing his bulletproof vest for any of these three scenarios.
"What are you doing?" he manages to grit through clenched teeth before his breathing hitches delightfully, your hand purposefully stroking over the mouth-watering shape of his generously sized and equally aroused dick clearly outlined against the tight fabric of his pants. Your fingers close around him as best as they can like this, the sheer girth of him shutting down your brain momentarily as you're reminded just how perfectly he fills you up when you sink down on his cock, the stretch toying deliciously with the fine line of absolutely heavenly and almost painfully. Your poor neglected cunt clenches around nothing and you feel your arousal turning your panties into an uncomfortably sticky mess.
You're brought back to reality when you feel his cock twitch pitifully against your hand in its confinement and you remember your boyfriend asked you a question that you haven't answered yet. How rude of you.
So you look at him with your eyes fluttering innocently, your head tilted to the side in mock-confusion, all while your hand continues to stroke him and make him lose his mind—the realization that he will finish in his pants if you keep your sweet torture up only makes the coil in his stomach tighten, his ears and cheeks burning in humiliation.
"What do you mean?" you chuckle lightly, mirth dancing in your bright eyes, getting drunk on the sight of your usually so commanding and imposing boyfriend being turned into this pathetic mess of a man from just your nimble hands. "I'm only returning the favor."
Not even a second later your face falls and your eyes widen in belittling concern, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth before you ask him gingerly, "Or do you want me to stop?"
You're cruel enough to pull your hand back, too, folding both of them in your lap while searching his suddenly panicked eyes, looking almost earnestly, but the condescending smile on your lips gives you away immediately. Not that you were really trying to hide it.
The wanton little whine that spills past his lips is answer enough, pleading with you out of the corner of his eyes, his gaze torn between your pretty and mean face and the road he's still driving the massive SUV on.
You however are not merciful enough to answer his pleas, too entertained by watching your poor boyfriend figuratively and literally squirm in his seat. But like the misbehaving and greedy mutt he is he blindly reaches for your hand in your lap, his shaking fingers curling tightly around it before pressing it back to his erection straining against the dark fabric of his pants, stroking himself with your hand swallowed by his own, his hips rolling mindlessly into the touch.
Your surprised little sound that was decidedly not a moan is drowned out by the relieved sigh pushing past his lip. You only allow this crude stunt of his because you're literally too stunned by it to do anything else but watch him with your mouth hanging open, letting him use your hand as he pleases, debauched and desperate, your touch the only thing on his mind.
Oh, you'll have to seriously put him in his place.
Because if he really thinks he can get away with misbehaving like this, denying you earlier what he's doing right now, there is a horribly rude awakening waiting for him on the horizon.
That's the only thing on your mind as you struggle to regain your composure even as your fingers curl around his twitching dick, squeezing him harder than is probably comfortable in punishment, before wrestling your hand out of his grasp.
"Fuck, don't stop—"
You ignore how your name leaving his lips in a moan makes your thighs clench together, ignore how your poor clit throbbing with want screams at you to just shove his hand down your pants to finish what he wouldn't earlier, ignore his words and not dignify him with any spoken answer.
Instead, you lean closer to him over the car's center console, your fingers making quick work of his belt before unceremoniously popping open the button of his trousers. His hips shift closer to your touch again while both of his hands have the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grasp, his tongue peeking out to wet his dry lips briefly.
"Sweetheart—"
His eyes snap down to his own lap where you're slowly pulling down his pants' zipper but you pause halfway through when you notice where his attention has shifted to.
"Eyes on the road, Agent Hotchner," you scold him sternly and he obeys at once, firmly fixing his gaze on the dark road still stretching out in front of you, humming appreciatively when you open his fly all the way. You bring your hand closer to your lips then, shamelessly spitting in it while you have front row seats to your boyfriend hurriedly pulling his erection out of his underwear without his eyes straying from where you've told him they should be. He's well-behaved enough to immediately return his hand to its place on the steering wheel, even when you take a moment to appreciate him in all of his glory like this. His cock stands up proudly for you, coming to rest against his stomach, gently twitching. Even in the dim lighting your eyes can easily follow the prominent vein running down his considerable length, the head of him a miserable shade of red and the drop of pre-cum shining on the tip beckoning you closer.
You give into the temptation, your spit mixing with the sticky clear fluid as you bring your wet palm to his sensitive head, your hand closing around it before you slowly, deliberately work your way down, making sure every single inch of his stupidly big cock feels the delicious tightness and warmth of your fingers wrapped around him, keeping the same maddening pace when you reach the base and retrace your path back to his weeping tip.
He sighs your name oh-so gratefully and you're almost willing to forgive this blatant misbehavior of his during tonight's drive now that your hand is wrapped so nicely around his cock, burning hot to the touch, his skin silky-smooth and soft, your thumb tracing along the vein at the side. Especially now that you feel the whole weight of him against your palm, real and perfect and twitching desperately, and only for you. Yours to play with, caress and tease until his whole body goes rigid as his orgasm hits him, his dick pulsing in your hand as you work him through it, thick ropes of cum spurting from his tip, covering your fingers and running down your hand, his length, little drops of it getting caught in the coarse dark hairs at the base.
But you square your shoulders, figuratively that is, reminding yourself that you can literally drool over his cock after you're finished with this basic lesson, teaching your unsuspecting boyfriend that actions have consequences and that he should know better than to string you along like he did.
Without warning you pick up your hand's pace, deliberately neglecting his most sensitive spots while you steadily jerk him off, the sounds of the car rolling a little less than smoothly over the bumpy road drowned out by all of his enticing noises, groans and gasps and moans, high and breathy, by the sound of your hand guiding him closer and closer to the edge.
You're attuned well enough to his body by now to keep him from falling before you want him to, expertly dancing around his point of no return, slowing down when he gets too close, replacing your palm with just the tips of your fingers or stop moving altogether, simply holding him with your hand wrapped around the thick base before beginning to gently stroke him again.
So with all that petty torture you're subjecting your now writhing boyfriend in the driver's seat of the still moving SUV to, you're admittedly a little surprised when you look up and see the red neon sign of the cheap motel the team is staying at for this case glowing like a beacon in the dead of the night, the bold "M" flickering sickly, instead of ending with the car's whole engine block wrapped around a tree somewhere in a ditch next to the desolate road like you expected you would.
With his last ounce of strength and sanity, your boyfriend jerkily maneuvers the car onto the motel's premises, pulling up next to the other two government-issued SUVs before carelessly and quite crookedly throwing the car into park. He impatiently unbuckles his seatbelt and reaches over to do the same to yours, giving you no further warning before his strong arms wrap urgently around your waist and back, half-lifting, half-dragging you over the center console to place you squarely on his lap.
His big hairy paws immediately cage your face between them, insistently pulling you closer until his hungry lips are pressed to yours, groaning deeply against your mouth in pure, bone-deep relief, all but devouring you like the starved mutt that he is.
And you let him, meeting his desperation with the same hunger, the same greed, your fingers far from gentle where they grab onto a fistful of dark strands of hair at the back of his head, pulling on them just for the sake of it, just to swallow the curse that tumbles from his mouth into yours when his tongue finds yours.
His arms are wrapped almost suffocatingly tight around you, trapping your body against his while his fingers are digging into your soft skin, and it doesn't seem like he plans on letting you go anytime soon, wanting you just like this. Right here, right now, parked in front of a little motel with the car's headlights not even turned off, the engine still idling—a motel, you might add, that all of your medically certified insomniac teammates are staying at too.
How adorably hypocritical of him. At least you wanted to fuck him on the side of a deserted road in the middle of nowhere.
So finally, it's your turn to grin wickedly against his lips and slowly pull back from him. You chuckle quietly at the way he immediately sways forward, blindly chasing your touch, his dark and dazed eyes blinking open sluggishly when he doesn't find it again because you're moving out of his reach further.
He searches your face in stupefied confusion, the warm brown hue of his eyes swallowed almost completely by his blown-out pupils, while you only smile serenely at him, your arms wrapped around his shoulder lightly while your fingers are playing with the short strands of hair at his neck.
"Sweetheart, please."
He actually whimpers and you don't know what that says about you, but it's probably the hottest sound you've ever heard coming out of his mouth. His fingers dig deeper into your skin, hard enough to leave bruises and bordering on painful but you really don't mind, too drunk on this beautifully debauched sight in front of you. His usually carefully and strictly styled hair is a mess, the apples of his cheeks rivaling the red glow of the motel's neon sign and his lips kiss-swollen and shining with spit while his belt is unbuckled and his pants are open, his painfully hard dick trapped between your bodies, begging for the release you denied him over and over again during the drive. Release, he realized in desperate dread, you're not planning on allowing him now as well.
You lean closer to him again, your chest pressed against his while your breath fans over the shell of his once-pierced ear. He didn't try to deny it when you asked him about it, after all, you could see the little mark left on his earlobe from when he was younger, but to this day he heartlessly refuses to show you a picture of him back then wearing an earring even though you promised him you would be normal about it. (You absolutely wouldn't. You know that. And he knows that too.)
Your low voice so close to his ear makes a shiver run down his spine, but the words leaving your lips in a condescending purr turn the blood in his veins to ice.
"You didn't seriously think I'd let you come after teasing me like this, did you? Oh, you poor, delusional man."
You catch his earlobe between your teeth and with one last dirty roll of your hips you reach for the door handle on his side and hop out of the SUV, striding to the entrance of the motel, letting the metal ring of the key to your single room spin around your finger.
"Have a good and restful night, sweetheart," you sing-song without looking back, your lips curling into a devilish smile when you hear your boyfriend's broken "Fuck—!" that sound like a sob echoing through the dead of the night.
You really hope he will remember tonight's lesson—for his sake.
Because only well-behaved good boys get their treat.
Thank you so much for reading <3 Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated!
Feel free to hop into my inbox if you have a fic request or just want to talk ✨
jealousy, jealousy -- Ex!Hotch x Fem!Reader x Gibbs (Kinktober 2025)
Look at me. There was no world in which this was going to be a short fic. Yes there is a bit of build up but it is worth it. This is so self-indulgent it's insane!! NCIS and BAU headquarters both being in/near Quantico sent my head spinning and this was the result. You're welcome 😋
Warnings: 18+ only mdni!!, threesome, oral (m + f receiving), thigh riding, fingering, unprotected p in v (wrap it irl!!! do not be like them!!!), manhandling, facefucking, double penetration, jealous!gibbs and jealous!hotch, i'm prob forgetting some
Summary: You and Hotch used to date when you worked at the BAU. You broke things off before you transferred to NCIS, but remained on good terms. What happens when your ex (and former boss) is called in to consult on a case, and your new boss realizes he has feelings for you? Can you choose between the two? Do you have to?
WC: ...9.8k don't look at me
It starts with the ding of the NCIS elevator.
Gibbs turns his head toward the sound because he isn’t exactly expecting anyone. There’s four -- yes, four -- dead Marines in the past two days, so the bullpen has been void of any witty banter and for once all of you, including DiNozzo, have had your heads down working hard to find any leads. So much so that it’s only you and Gibbs at your desks right now. McGee is helping Abby in the lab, and DiNozzo is chasing up a lead with Ziva.
Then, a gasp. From your lips. Gibbs doesn’t realize that it’s coming from you until you’re standing up and rounding your desk, a smirk on your lips as your arms cross over your chest.
“Well, well, well,” you shake your head, and the playful nature of it all has Gibbs’ head spinning.
You’re never like that with him. With Abby, all the time. With Ziva, occasionally. With DiNozzo and McGee, most of the time. But never Gibbs. And now this stranger has you biting back a grin?
Gibbs doesn’t know who the man is, but he hates him.
The tall man in question -- who definitely has at least an inch on Gibbs, not that he’ll admit it out loud -- smiles and extends his hand toward you, saying your name with a smile just as fond as your eyes. “How’ve you been?”
“Great” comes your reply, and you forgo shaking his hand to pull him into a hug instead. “How’ve you been, Aaron?”
Aaron. So that’s his name. Gibbs hates it. It’s a stupid name. It has nothing to do with how light your voice sounds when you say it, or the way your arms wrap around him so tight. Like he’s a lifeline of yours.
“Good, you know how it is,” Aaron replies easily. “I wondered if I’d still find you here.”
“And here I thought you’d be keeping tabs on me,” you joke, “since you were oh-so reluctant to let me go.”
The man rolls his eyes at you and Gibbs balks. The one time he did that, you glared at him for a week straight.
“NCIS is very lucky to have you.”
You laugh loudly at that, punching Aaron’s shoulder good naturedly. “You could at least try to sound sincere!” You pause, glancing to the side and catching Gibbs’s eyes.
“Wanna introduce us?” The question flies from Gibbs’s lips before he can help it, and sounds a lot more condescending than he means it to. “Or am I interrupting?” He definitely didn’t need to add that, but Aaron has an FBI badge that Gibbs has just noticed, and now he wants to know why the hell the FBI is in this building without his permission.
“My apologies,” Aaron says, stepping over and extending his hand to Gibbs. “I’m Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. Agent Fornell said he would meet me here.”
Gibbs shakes Hotchner’s hand, nodding once. “I’m Agent Gibbs,” he says. “Should’ve known Tobias was behind this.”
“I’m always by your side, Gibbs,” Fornell calls from the elevator. “Sorry I’m late.”
“I wanna know why you’re here at all, Tobias,” Gibbs deadpans. “We’re busy, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“Four dead Marines in forty-eight hours,” you fill in quietly for Hotch.
“I know,” Aaron replies, though not rudely. “That’s why I’m here.”
“What?” Gibbs snaps, exasperated as he gives Tobias his best what the fuck is wrong with you look.
“He’s from the Behavioral Analysis Unit, Jethro,” Fornell lets out a laugh. “You need his help.”
Like hell I do, Gibbs wants to say, but instead he nods toward the elevator. “A word.”
Fornell gives Gibbs a look before turning, leading the way. Gibbs stalks past you and your new best friend, trying not to look Hotchner up and down with threatening intent.
Once inside the elevator, he waits a few seconds after the doors close before flipping the emergency switch.
Fornell chuckles. He’s actually laughing.
Gibbs doesn’t even look at him. “Something funny, Tobias?”
“You’ve got it bad, my friend.”
“What?” Gibbs swings his head toward Fornell, eyes narrowed.
“Don’t what me,” Tobias warns. “We married the same woman, Jethro! You think I can’t tell when the love bug has crawled up your ass?”
Suddenly, Gibbs doesn’t want to discuss any of this at all. He flips the switch.
Tobias flips it back. “Oh no, we are talking about this,” he stands in front of it. “You’ve got it so bad that she smiles at an old coworker and you’re so pissed off you have to come yell at me in the elevator?”
“Coworker?” Gibbs asks. He knew you used to work for the FBI, but that was about as far as he got in your personnel file. He didn’t care where you used to be; he cared how you were here, as an NCIS agent.
“Yeah,” Fornell shakes his head. “Best damn agent the FBI has seen in a long time. You wouldn’t believe the hoops we tried to jump through to keep her. But she was insistent on leaving.”
Gibbs frowns. That doesn’t make much sense to him, but he supposes it won’t, since the two of you hardly ever talk about anything personal. He’s always thought that’s why he could tolerate you the most out of everyone; you never ask anything personal. You keep to yourself and keep focused on the case at hand.
“And Hotch in there,” Fornell nods back toward the bullpen. “The phone calls we got, he was trying so hard to keep her in the BAU, or in another department, but to keep her in the FBI. But again, she wanted to be somewhere new.”
“And she chose NCIS?” Gibbs asks. You’ve been here a little over a year now and he still hasn’t wrapped his head around it.
“Listen, we were just as shocked as you when she accepted the offer from Vance,” Fornell says, shaking his head. “Anyway. Why don’t we focus on the dead Marines you’ve got?”
“Why the hell did you send him here?” Gibbs counters, still unhappy. “If you know they’ve got history.”
Fornell raises an accusatory eyebrow. “Never said they have history. I just said they used to work together.”
“Same difference.”
“You need to pull yourself together, Jethro,” Tobias laughs. “Seriously, when was the last time you were like this?”
Tobias concedes after a moment, sighing heavily. “You’ve got a serial killer on your hands. We both know it. And we need to figure out if he’s targeting Marines, or if it’s just a coincidence.”
“It’s definitely not a coincidence.”
“Well, that’s what we need to figure out,” Tobias continues. “And that’s what Hotch can help with.”
Gibbs scoffs, glaring at Fornell as he reaches around him to flick the switch again. Tobias lets him.
“You really should pull yourself together, Gibbs,” Fornell says. “I thought dating a coworker went against one of those rules of yours.”
Gibbs says nothing. He can’t say anything. Because the second the elevator doors open again, he hears you laughing.
Fornell doesn’t even have time to get through his warning before Gibbs is stalking over, standing just in between the two of you. “Why are we laughing when we should be working?”
Your reply is immediate and not at all full of any of the joy he just heard. “I wasn’t sure if he was cleared or not, boss. Since you ran off with Agent Fornell.”
“He’s cleared,” Fornell supplies. “And Gibbs is happy to accept the help.”
You snort.
“Something funny?” Gibbs asks, cocking his head at you.
“Nope,” you shake your head, staring him down just as unflinchingly. “Shall we get Hotch caught up to speed? Or do you want to continue wasting time by invading my personal space?”
Gibbs’s eyes narrow. He glances between your eyes, dares a glance at your lips that are just barely hinting a smirk, before he nods. “Let’s get started.”
+++
You’ve got no idea what is wrong with your boss, but it’s starting to get old.
It’s been barely a day of having Hotch here and Gibbs’s mood has only gone further and further south.
You think solving the case will help, but when he doesn’t even show a hint of improvement after the arrest, you’re ready to lose it on him.
Hotch takes the unsub, as he calls them, to the Quantico FBI office, which you’re surprised Gibbs agreed to, but he seems so resigned to it all now.
“Looks like I’m riding with you,” you quip, yanking on the passenger door. “Unless you want me to walk back to the navy yard.”
Gibbs just barely smiles. “Get in.”
It’s more than he’s given you in a day, so you’ll take it.
His mood lightens more as he drives, and you realize it’s because Hotch isn’t here. It’s because it’s just you two, and Hotch is busy for the next few hours at least.
You’ve had your suspicions about Hotch being the cause of Gibbs’s bad mood, but for the life of you, you can’t figure out why. It can’t be that you and Hotch used to date because, well, why would that matter to Gibbs? You don’t even think you’ve mentioned that to him, though, knowing Gibbs, his gut probably told him.
You and Hotch dated for a bit when you were at the BAU, but it never went anywhere serious. You were looking into a transfer completely of your own volition when Hotch told you he wasn’t sure he was ready to take your casual dates to the next level. You didn’t blame him; you had kind of expected it. His wife died just a year prior. You were happy to go on dates and help him feel normal again, get his footing in the dating world, and for what it’s worth, you had a great time. There was no bad blood between the two of you when it ended.
So it can’t be that Gibbs is doing his weird overprotective thing that he sometimes does, and it can’t be that he’s interested in you because that’s just absurd -- Gibbs, of all people?
Unless it’s not?
“Can I ask you something?”
“Just did,” Gibbs replies, just as you expected.
“What’s the matter with you?”
He laughs, “A--”
“A lot, yeah, I know,” you cut him off, and his laugh stops abruptly.
He glances at you, then back at the road, lifting his hand off the wheel in surrender. “Alright. What did I do this time?”
“What haven’t you done, Gibbs?” you say back. “You’ve been in a foul mood -- worse than usual -- and it didn’t get this bad until Aaron showed up--”
“You know I don’t like the FBI--”
“Bullshit, Gibbs, you put up with Tobias, you took me in--”
“Yeah, because we stole you from the FBI--”
“I wanted to transfer!”
“Why?” he yells. “Tobias tells me you were the best agent the FBI has seen in a long time and you what? Wanted to leave?”
“I needed a change of pace--”
“Why?”
“Why are you so interested all of the sudden?” you shout back at him, turning in your seat to face him. “Is this about Aaron?”
“Is it?”
You scoff, pissed off and turn to face forward again. “I didn’t leave the FBI because of a man.” You cross your arms over your chest, muttering, “Might leave NCIS because of one though.”
You don’t mean it. He knows you don’t mean it. The statement hangs heavy between the two of you all the same.
Your jaw ticks from clenching it so hard. “Since it’s so interesting to you, yes, Aaron and I briefly dated. I was already looking into a new job when we decided it had run its course. It wasn’t anything bad, he didn’t cheat or break my heart, so you can stop acting like you need to intimidate him.”
“I’m not--”
“You are,” you cut him off again, at this point just because you know how much he hates it. “And I don’t know what’s the matter with you, but you need to quit it. I don’t know why you’re acting like-- like you’re jealous or something, but it’s ridiculous.”
“Jealous?” Gibbs’s voice raises an octave.
“What else am I supposed to think?”
“Maybe I’m just in a bad mood.”
“Right. A bad mood that so conveniently started when you saw me greeting an old friend.”
“Well, as you said, the two of you weren’t just friends--”
“Oh my god,” you laugh because really, this can’t be happening again, but it seems it is. He has feelings for you. He just won’t admit it. Almost exactly what happened with Hotch, though you forgave him long ago for it given the circumstances. Gibbs is just being difficult for the sake of it. “I have a type. Or a magnet attached to me somewhere that pulls men like you.”
He parks in the lot outside NCIS, aggressively shoving the parking break into place. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Figure it out, Jethro,” you snap, throwing the door open and stepping out. “I’m going home.”
“Hey! I didn’t say you were done for the day!”
You lean your head back down, smiling at him sweetly. “I didn’t ask.” You slam the door so hard that it makes Gibbs curse.
But he doesn’t go after you. He’s really done it this time, so he lets you go, while he figures out how to fix it.
+++
God, you don’t know what’s gotten into him.
You’ve had some feelings toward Gibbs for a while now, but you resigned yourself to never acting on them, especially not after Aaron.
But damn if it isn’t hard to not think about it, especially when Gibbs gets jealous.
Which he obviously is. You don’t care what he says. You’ve always suspected your feelings might be mutual but that he had resigned himself in a similar way, so you never thought much of it. But after that conversation in the car?
He is jealous. And he can’t stand it.
It might be more amusing than it is if he isn’t such a dickhead about it all, but you digress.
You make it home just in time to see a text from Aaron. All finished up here. Still on for dinner tonight?
You bite back a grin as you reply. Always.
If Gibbs won’t get his head out of his ass, you will at least do yourself the favor of chasing the high you’ve found these last two days with Aaron. Time has passed, and if you’re reading things right, it seems like he wants to try again. Or, at the very least, wants to try again for tonight, and you’ve been without for so long that you’ll take it. Happily.
You hurry inside your apartment to shower and change into your most subtle-not-subtle ‘I want to have sex with you’ outfit and start perusing what food to order in. You don’t have the energy (or resources, your fridge is bare) to cook, so takeout it is.
You’re midway through scrolling an online menu when you hear knocking.
You check the peephole and try not to grin. “Hey stranger,” you say as you pull open the door.
“Hi,” Aaron replies, eyes immediately darting to your chest before back up to your face. “You look nice.”
“Thank you,” you reply. “Come on in. I see you brought something.”
“You think I’d come over empty handed?” He shuts the door behind him and shrugs his suit jacket off his shoulders, hanging it on one of the hooks. “I know better than that.”
“I know you do,” you murmur, taking the flowers from him. “Thank you.”
“It’s the least I could do,” he says, and for some reason, you think he means it for many things.
As you work to arrange them in a vase, he settles himself against the counter next to you.
“What’s on the menu for tonight?”
“Takeout of some kind,” you chuckle. “I’m way too tired to cook.”
“Fine with me,” he says, pulling out his phone. “Craving anything specific?”
You hum, looking up at him through your eyelashes, in the way you remember always used to get to him. “Surprise me.”
You don’t miss the way his eyes darken as he nods. “Okay.”
You have no idea what he orders, but after a minute or so, he sets his phone down, and goes back to watching you.
“You’re staring again,” you say, trying not to smile down at the flowers. “You only do that when you’ve got something on your mind, so. What is it?”
“The BAU wants you back.”
“Oh,” you raise your eyebrows. The double meaning isn’t lost on you. “The BAU wants me back now, do they?”
“They do.”
“Well then,” you turn your head, looking up at him with a smile. “What’s their offer?”
“Dinner,” he says simply. “Flowers.”
“I think they can do better than that.”
“I think so too,” he says softly, hand sliding along the counter until it meets yours, lacing your fingers together. “I’ve missed you.”
You smile. “I’ve missed you too,” you admit. “Probably more than I thought. Working together the past couple days brought back a lot of memories.”
He hums, pulling you closer, settling his hands on your waist. “Yeah? Like what?”
“Remember that case in Alaska?” you whisper, moving your hands across his chest, up to his shoulders, feeling the warmth of him through his dress shirt. The warmth you’ve craved since the last time you touched him. “That little inn was tiny.”
He smirks. “And you took one for the team by rooming with me.”
“Someone had to,” you chuckle, tipping your head back a little, looking up at him, practically goading him. “That was our first night together.”
“Purely for survival,” he reminds you. “It was cold.”
You nod seriously. “Oh, yes, I remember. But you’re practically a human furnace.” One hand slides from his shoulder, up his neck, cupping his jaw. “The BAU doesn’t want me back, do they?”
He shakes his head. “Just me. They don’t get to have you like this.”
You raise an eyebrow. “And you do?”
His hands squeeze your waist, and he’s already leaning in. “For tonight?”
“Tonight,” you promise, breath hot as you meet his lips halfway.
It takes only seconds for your bodies to remember one another. For you to remember how he likes to be kissed, for him to remember how you like to be lifted onto the counter, with him crowding between your legs.
He’s already hard, grinding into you and you gasp, spreading your legs wider to accommodate his frame. Your hands are all over him, reacquainting yourself with his arms, his shoulders, his hair that you love to pull because of the growls it earns you from the back of his throat.
Aaron pulls back from your lips to latch onto your throat, to that spot that he knows will elicit a whimper, and it still does. He gets high off it, off of all your noises, off of the way you lock your ankles around him, canting your hips into his like you can’t get him close enough. He wants this to last, but God, he’s missed you.
You tug on his hair until he’s back in front of your face, pupils dilated, lips already rosy and spit-slick. You crack a smile, seeing him like this, and he’s dazed, already leaning back in, wanting to taste that smile and store the memory forever.
“I want you,” you whisper to him in between kisses. “I want you, Aaron, it’s been too long.”
He inhales sharply, squeezing your body against his. “I’ve thought about you every day,” he admits. “Every day I’ve wondered why I didn’t tell you we should keep seeing each other since you weren’t going far--”
His words end there, abruptly, because someone is knocking on your door.
“Is that the food already?” you ask. There’s no way you two have been making out for that long.
The knocking only grows louder. And more familiar.
“Want me to answer it?” he asks.
“No, no, I’ve got it,” you mutter, hopping off the counter, hoping to God that it is not who it sounds like. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he says, watching you as you walk away. He lingers in the kitchen, just within earshot, so if the person turns out to be a nuisance, he can step in. If you need him to.
You clumsily try to fix your clothes and face before looking in the peephole and-- Fuck.
“I know you’re right there,” Gibbs’s voice calls from the other side of the door. “And I know you’re mad at me.”
Aaron’s voice from the kitchen “Is that--” just as you pull the door open with a slight grimace.
“Jethro,” you greet him dryly. “What now?”
“Peace offering?” he asks, holding up a bouquet of flowers in one hand and bourbon in the other. “I’m sorry for being an ass today. And yesterday. And all the time.”
You can’t help it, you smile, taking the flowers from him. “Thanks.” You pause. “Look, this is-- Well, this is sort of awkward--”
Gibbs interjects. “What the hell is he doing here?”
You sigh, knowing that must mean Aaron has moved into view behind you. “He’s here for dinner. And…”
“And?” Gibbs presses, and then starts laughing, mostly at himself. “God, I show up with your favorite flowers and the only bourbon you like and he’s fucking beat me to it.”
“Don’t be like this,” you hiss, only feeding off of his attitude. “You’ve had plenty of time to bring me flowers and you never did--”
“He let you walk away once and what? Now you’re just gonna go right back to him?”
“I’m not going back to him,” you snap, feeling Aaron’s presence looming closer behind you now. “And even if I was, it’s not your business.”
“What does he have that I don’t?” Gibbs asks, and for a moment it sends you back on your heels. He sounds so desperate. “He touch you better than I do?”
“I wouldn’t know,” you whisper. “You’ve never touched me the way I want you to.”
“Do you want me to?” he whispers back, a dangerous look in his eyes. “Because I will.”
You nod slowly.
Gibbs shakes his head at you. “I need words, sweetheart.”
“Please,” you can barely get it out. “Come inside.”
It feels like some twisted fate, that when you finally have Gibbs at your door, confessing his damn feelings, you already have your ex in your kitchen, and have already had his tongue in your mouth.
But Gibbs comes in anyway, he shuts the door and flicks the deadbolt. He won’t be leaving soon.
“Is everything okay?” Aaron asks, with an edge to his voice that you know well, but you don’t want right now.
“Both of you, in the living room,” you instruct, moving past them to set the flowers in the kitchen. “Now.”
Both men share a look before doing what they’re told, while you busy yourself with finding another vase to put this bouquet in. You can hear them both pacing in the living room, but they aren’t saying a single word to one another. Which is fine. You don’t need them to speak to each other. You just.
You need a moment to figure out if what you’re about to suggest is such a wild, crazy idea that you’d be better off just kicking them both out.
But that’s the thing. You want both of them. You don’t want to choose. Why should you have to choose?
You fill a glass with water and guzzle it down, taking a deep breath. Worst case scenario, they say no. Or one of them does, and leaves, and you still get the other. Or they both leave.
Christ.
You take one more breath to compose yourself before you head into the living room. Neither of them are sitting, but they both come to a standstill and face you when you enter. They’re so similar in that respect, it almost makes you smile. If you weren’t so nervous.
“Okay,” you begin, wringing your hands. “I’m about to suggest something, and you can tell me no if it’s too crazy or if you just don’t want to do it. Got it?”
“Got it” and “Okay” echo from them.
You stare at them both, raking your eyes over their frames. You really do have a type, and that revelation would be embarrassing if you didn’t have a bigger issue on your mind.
“I want both of you,” you blurt. “I think I’ve made that much obvious. But,” you pause when you can see their confusion brewing, “I don’t want to choose.”
Gibbs shifts on his feet. “What?”
Aaron’s eyebrows furrow. “What are you saying?”
He, of all people, knows exactly what you’re saying, but you know what he’s doing. He’s making you spell it out.
“I want both of you,” you repeat. “Tonight. At the same time. All three of us.” You pause again, trying to gauge their reactions, but in typical Aaron and Jethro fashion, you don’t get much. “I know it’s weird--”
“It’s not weird,” Gibbs stops you there. “You’re sure this is what you want?”
“I don’t know how to make it any clearer,” you chuckle, the nerves starting to melt away since neither of them seem upset or look like they’re about to run. “I didn’t expect you to come here tonight, Gibbs, but with both of you here, I don’t want to choose.”
“You want us to make the decision for you?” Aaron prompts.
Gibbs smirks. “Like a competition?”
You roll your eyes, starting to lose your patience. “If that’s the only way you two pigheaded alpha males will agree to it, then fine.”
Gibbs whistles and Aaron’s eyebrows raise sky-high. The men share a similar look, somehow having a silent conversation with one another.
“Did you hear that?” Gibbs asks Hotch, nodding his head toward you.
Aaron nods slowly, his eyes starting to grow darker again. Fucking shit. You’re in for it now.
“That’s no way to talk to the men you’re practically begging to touch you,” Gibbs continues, slowly stalking toward you.
“I don’t beg for anything, you know that,” you snap, hoping you come across as unbothered, but your body betrays you as your feet take steps backward.
“Maybe not right now,” Gibbs says. “But you will.”
You don’t make it far, and Gibbs cracks a smile when you stumble into the wall, giving him easy access to pin you there, both hands on either side of your shoulders. You swallow thickly, your breaths coming shorter now. He’s been this close to you before, but never like this, never had you licking your lips. His eyes follow the movement.
But still he doesn’t kiss you. The bastard backs away from you.
“I interrupted you earlier,” Gibbs says to Hotch, waving him over. “It’s only fair that you pick up where you left off.”
Not that you don’t want that, “But--”
Gibbs holds up his hand, silencing you only for a moment before you come back to yourself, the foggy haze fading. “But you were supposed to kiss me!”
“No, because that’s what you want, and you’re not going to get what you want with the attitude you have right now,” he says simply, stepping aside and shrugging his coat off his shoulders, folding it over his arm. “Go on, Hotch. Go back to what you were doing.”
Gibbs leaves the room, heading back into the hall to hang up his coat. You hope.
Aaron crowds your space again, holding your chin gently in between his thumb and forefinger to guide your eyes to his and away from glaring at Gibbs. “Are you sure about this?” he asks.
You nod furiously. “I am.”
“Okay,” he says. In one swift movement, he’s lifting you into his arms and backing you against the wall again, kissing you sweeter this time. It’s intoxicating. You roll your hips against his abdomen as you tug at his hair, his hands wandering all over your back, but keeping you secure.
You think you’ve got their number, that Gibbs is going to essentially be the mean one and Aaron the sweet one, but then Aaron is putting you back on your feet too soon and stepping away from you. Gibbs comes back into the room, rolling his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, sharing a look with Hotch.
You look between them, bewildered, chest heaving. “What?”
Gibbs chuckles. “She is so impatient.”
“Tell me about it,” Aaron agrees with a smile, undoing his tie and tossing it on the chair. “What do you think?”
“Hello?” you huff, annoyed that they’re having a full conversation as if you’re not standing right here.
“I don’t know, I was thinking we could--”
You tune out the rest of Gibbs’s words with another eye roll, deciding to take matters into your own hands once again. If they want to act like you’re not here, then you’re going to act like they aren’t here.
You reach for the hem of your shirt and tug it up and over your head, tossing it onto the chair with Hotch’s tie. Both of their words stop abruptly, but you don’t even grace them with a look as you hum to yourself and work your pants down your legs.
You’re just about to reach for the clasp on your bra when you’re practically manhandled into their space, Aaron’s chest against your back with his arms wrapped tightly around you, pinning your arms to your sides.
“Are you finished?” Gibbs asks, leaning down to meet your eyes.
“Depends,” you squirm, but Aaron’s hold is too strong. “Are you two going to start paying attention to me?”
“Oh, is that what you want?” Gibbs smirks. “Fine.” He nods toward the couch and it’s all Aaron needs before he’s walking you over.
It sends a thrill up your spine, sitting in Aaron’s lap on the couch, still firmly pinned. He works his knees in between your thighs before spreading his legs, which in turn only spreads yours impossibly wide and Gibbs--
Gibbs kneels before you, looking up at you with a hunger in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. It only makes you squirm more, though you know it’s useless.
He doesn’t immediately put his mouth where you want him the most, and you don’t know why you even expected him to, considering he’s so dead-set on teasing you. Instead, he presses the gentlest kisses to your inner thighs, one hand wrapping securely around your ankle while the other toys with the edge of your panties.
You toss your head back onto Aaron’s shoulder, hoping you don’t headbutt him in the process.
“Something wrong?” Aaron chuckles into your ear. “I thought this was what you wanted?”
Your back arches when Gibbs mouths at your core through your panties, and you swear you can feel him smiling. “It is, I just--”
“What do you want him to do?” Aaron presses. “Tell him. Use your words.”
“Put his-- Gibbs, put your mouth on me--”
“Already am, sweet girl.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I really don’t.”
“You’re being a bastard on purpose.”
“I always am.”
“Just-- Fucking--” You fight weakly against Aaron’s hold. “Not through my panties--”
“Ohhh,” Gibbs acts like it’s only just dawning on him as he hooks his thumb into the fabric and pulls it aside. “You mean like this?”
You lift your head to look down at him, nodding frantically. “Like that.”
What you don’t expect is for Gibbs to keep his gaze locked in yours as he leans forward, his tongue darting out to massage your clit. It sends such an electric shock through you that your hips buck involuntarily, chasing his mouth, and he just laughs, leaning away from you.
“You are wound up, Jesus, how long has it been since you’ve been with somebody? Don’t answer that.”
You chuckle, your head lolling back onto Aaron’s shoulder so you can turn and whisper to him, “No one since you.” Because it’s true.
But you hadn’t told Aaron that, and the shock is evident on his face. Gibbs senses the moment though and ruins it promptly, finally latching onto your core and flicking your clit with his tongue.
He starts at a rapid pace, one you aren’t prepared for, and you cuss into Aaron’s neck. You have no idea how he knows it, or what tells you give off, but at the exact moment when you feel it, Aaron says, “She’s close.”
Gibbs pulls back from your core, licking lazily as he goes. “Already?”
“Well not anymore,” you grumble, glaring up at Aaron’s jaw. “Asshole.”
“You have a smart mouth on you today,” Gibbs says, pinching your thigh just enough to sting. “Up.”
You’re surprised when Aaron’s arms go lax and he pushes you onto your feet before following you. Gibbs takes Aaron’s spot on the couch and then motions for you, but you don’t move.
“Come here,” Gibbs reaches up and tugs you back down, positioning you so you’re straddling his thigh and facing away from him. “Here’s what you’re gonna do,” he pauses, untwisting the strap of your bra in a sweet gesture that doesn’t match his words, “since you desperately need to cum but need something to do with your mouth, you’re going to ride my thigh and suck him off. How does that sound?”
Euphoric. Surreal. You cannot believe your ears right now.
Gibbs’s hands squeeze your hips. “I said how does that sound?”
“G-Good,” you squeak out, your hands already reaching for Aaron’s hips to pull him closer. He smirks down at you, cupping your jaw as you unbuckle his belt with ease and work his pants and boxers down as far as they need to go. His erection springs free and it’s just as you remember, with the same vein you love to run your tongue over, and the same slight curve to it that your vibrator doesn’t have.
Aaron thumbs at the corner of your mouth. “You’re drooling.”
“Sorry,” you say instinctively, and behind you, Gibbs lets out a laugh.
You’re too entranced to even be angry at him for laughing at you.
“Come on, honey, there you go,” Aaron says, voice syrupy sweet as you open up for him and take him into your mouth. “That’s my good girl.”
Your hips instinctively rock on Gibbs’s thigh at that, searching for some friction, and again, he laughs. “Of course you like being called a good girl when you’ve been nothing but a brat since we started.”
You hum around Aaron’s length, not even caring that Gibbs is taunting you because his hands are on your hips, helping you move, and you can feel him flexing his thigh.
Aaron lets you take as much as you want at first, but you feel it when he starts wanting more. His hand that was once cupping your jaw slowly moves to the back of your neck, just resting there at first. You take more of him, letting the tip hit the back of your throat before backing off and doing it again. His fingers tighten against your skull and you open your eyes, looking up at him, giving him the permission he needs.
“Fuck” is all he gets out before both hands are on your head, guiding you, not forcing, but helping. You hold onto his thighs and pull him in more, taking him down your throat and holding him there when he tries to move you away. You can feel his legs trembling in your hold before you finally back off, just to take him deeper again.
Gibbs’s hands never leave your hips, rolling you right where you need it most, wishing you were riding his cock right now instead. He can’t decide if he wants to feel your mouth on him next or if he wants to go straight to being inside you. But the noises you’re making-- You’re enjoying this, giving Aaron head while letting Gibbs maneuver your body against his thigh. He has no doubt you’re soaking through your panties and probably leaving a wet spot on his leg, but he doesn’t have it in him to care.
“Close, honey,” Aaron warns. “If you want me to stop--”
Your response is to pull him in tighter, refusing to let him leave your mouth until he cums down your throat.
The second you feel him twitching in your throat, your hips start moving at a frantic pace, and Gibbs lets you chase it, wants to feel you come undone like this, just from rubbing on his thigh. When Hotch spills down your throat, you feel yourself shaking with your own orgasm, nowhere near as powerful as his, but enough that you’re taking him deeper into your throat, relishing in the feeling.
Hotch pulls back so just the tip rests on your tongue, letting you gently suck him clean, until he can’t take it anymore, hissing from the sensitivity. You’re licking your lips, smiling up at him lazily while still feeling Gibbs’s hands roaming your body.
“Is that what you needed?” Gibbs asks.
You nod, turning around in his lap so you’re straddling him and the obvious bulge in his pants. “Wanna do the same to you.”
Gibbs smirks, stroking your cheek. “Oh, no, sweet girl, I think I wanna be inside you first.”
A flash of surprise crosses your eyes, but you nod. “Kiss me first?”
“Alright,” Gibbs relents, cupping the back of your head and pulling you in.
You get lost in it, in the feeling of Gibbs’s lips finally on yours after almost a year of teasing one another, a year of him getting up in your face and you wondering just how bad the consequences might be if you closed the gap. Now, it’s finally happening, and you don’t want to miss a single second.
Aaron flops into the chair beside the couch, spent and in a daze after having your mouth on him again.
You’re too busy kissing him, sloppy, hazy, like you want to eat him, to notice Gibbs has cracked an eye open and started smirking at Hotch.
“Need a minute, big guy?” Gibbs chuckles, letting you kiss all over his face instead.
“Once you feel her mouth, yeah, you’ll need a minute,” Aaron says, all breathy the way you remember him being.
You pull your lips away from Gibbs’s jaw to smile lazily at Hotch. “Still good?”
Aaron nods seriously. “Of course, honey.”
Something about it makes you feel downright giddy, being the one to make Aaron Hotchner of all people have such a dazed look on his face and taking heavy breaths to regain his composure.
Your attention is on Aaron for a moment too long, though, and Jethro wants it back. He turns your head back to him and claims your lips again, licking inside your mouth and swallowing your moans.
Without another moment’s hesitation, Gibbs spins you and has your back to the couch, his body hovering over yours. He presses his erection down into your core, barely keeping his eyes from rolling in the back of his head at the feeling. As much as he’s been teasing you, he’s been edging himself, too.
Your legs instinctively wrap around his hips, pushing yours up to meet his and he groans, both hands darting out to pin you down.
Your hands have a mind of their own, reaching for his belt and yanking it open so quickly that he hardly realizes what you’re doing until you’ve done it. Clearly you’ve had a lot of practice, no doubt with the man sitting beside you with his head tossed back and his eyes closed, and the thought makes Gibbs’s blood boil again.
So what if he’s jealous? So what?
He lets you work his pants down before he finishes the job, shoving them aside onto the floor, but leaving his boxers, much to your annoyance. One hand snakes down to your core, into your panties, and you’re squirming again.
“Sit still,” he chides.
“I don’t want your hand, Jethro.”
“Well, too bad,” he snaps back. “I’m not a moron. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“You won’t hurt me,” you whine. “I like the stretch.”
A chuckle leaves Aaron’s lips, and Jethro’s eyes snap to meet his, daring him to say something.
He does. “She’s a menace. She hates it, but you just have to finger her first while she squirms all over the place.”
You pout. “You’re supposed to tell him it’s fine and that I don’t need it.”
“Sorry honey,” Hotch says, leaning over to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
You relent, not that you have much choice, as Jethro works two fingers inside you to start. There’s a slight stretch, the pressure utterly delicious as he thrusts them slowly. He waits a second before adding a third and your back arches into him. You hear him grin.
“She really does like it,” Gibbs says, in awe. He teases you by adding his pinky, and the moan you let out practically echoes off the walls as you clench around him. “Atta girl-- Oh you liked that. I’ve said that to you at work, and the whole time, you’ve gotten off on it, huh?”
You nod against the couch cushions, too blind with the pleasure from his fingers and just the thought of him being inside you soon.
He leans over you, surprising you since your eyes are closed, his lips finding yours and kissing you hot and heavy. He can feel your walls fluttering around his fingers and he knows then that has to make you cum again. His thumb circles your clit and your body jerks, a moan ripping itself from your chest.
“Come on,” he whispers against your lips. “You can do it. There you go, there you go.”
You shatter around him just as he curls his fingers just right, his mouth covering yours to taste the whimpers that leave you, to keep the sounds secret, as if they’re just for him, as if the man beside you hasn’t heard them before.
He slowly slides his fingers out, working his boxers down and away, pulling your panties down and gently laying them on the floor. There’s a question in his eyes, about whether to go search for a condom, and you shake your head. It’s enough to undo him.
Just as Gibbs nestles the head of his cock right where you want him, someone is knocking on your damn door again.
You jolt, eyes going wide and Gibbs stilling above you. Aaron, on the other hand, is calm.
“I’ll get that,” he says casually, standing and adjusting his pants. “Dinner.”
Your eyes fall shut as you curse under your breath. You fucking forgot he ordered dinner.
Half of you expects Gibbs to move off of you, but he doesn’t. He readjusts. He pushes the head inside and your eyes fly open, gaze locking with his. There’s another question in his eyes.
When your gaze doesn’t waver, he presses forward, and your eyes roll back. Your jaw drops open in a moan that Gibbs covers just in time with his hand.
You hear Hotch at the door, chatting so casually with the delivery person as he accepts the food. You bite down on your lip to stifle your moans as Gibbs settles inside you, pressed against the deepest parts of you.
He rocks his hips experimentally, listening for your breaths and taking note of when you clench around him. He keeps his movements slow because he can tell you are loud and he doesn’t exactly want the delivery person hearing you.
Once the door shuts and Aaron walks back into the kitchen, though, all bets are off. Gibbs pulls nearly all the way out before practically slamming back into you, so much so that you see stars from pure pleasure. The head of his cock nudges against your g-spot with every pass and it’s too much--
“It’s not too much,” he chuckles, making you realize you’d said that out loud. His hand slides from your jaw to gently rest around the side of your throat, just holding you. “You can take it.”
Your head thrashes against the couch cushion as the pleasure builds and builds. You grip his arms tightly, trying to warn him but no words come out, only mindless mumbles and whines.
“I know, I know,” he soothes, one hand snaking down to rub circles on your clit. The touch practically lights your body on fire and then you’re clenching around him so hard that his rhythm falters. “Jesus.”
“Cumming,” you try to warn him, but it’s already happening.
“I can feel it-- Jesus, you’re trying to--” Gibbs doesn’t get to finish his sentence before his orgasm takes over, his hips pressed against your pelvis as he lets go inside of you. You squirm against the feeling, the warmth only prolonging your orgasm as you grind your hips down onto him, milking him for all he’s worth.
He grips your hips in both hands, forcing you to stop. “Sit still,” he says through gritted teeth. You feel another twitch as more cum leaks into you and you groan.
“Feels good,” you whine, trying to roll your hips again, your body not done yet, wanting to chase that feeling and have more. “Please?”
“Seriously?” he laughs above you, kissing your jaw, under your ear, your lips. “Give a man a minute to recover.”
“She wants more, doesn’t she?” Aaron’s amused voice comes from the kitchen.
“Y-Yeah,” Gibbs’s voice is shaky from feeling you clench around him. “Is she always like this?”
“Usually,” Hotch says, no doubt smiling.
But you’re not amused. Gibbs is still half hard inside of you and pressed right against your g-spot, and you want another. You want more.
“Please,” you pout. “Please, keep moving.”
He pulls out.
You have to fight the urge to dig your nails so hard into his shoulders that you draw blood.
“You gonna help me?” Gibbs calls out to Hotch. “Or are you tapping out?”
“I’m not tapping out,” Hotch says, deadly serious, and voice sounding closer now. “I was putting the food away for later. Move over.”
Gibbs puts up no fight (surprisingly) as he shifts off of you, gesturing for Hotch to fill the space. Your legs are a little numb from how hard Gibbs fucked you, so you don’t even bother trying to move.
A lazy smile flirts on your lips when Hotch hovers over you. “Hey you.”
“Hi honey,” he smiles. “Doing okay?”
You nod, reaching up to hold his face, pulling him down for a kiss. “Doing great.”
“Need a break?”
You shake your head.
“Need some water?”
You start to shake your head again, but Gibbs calls out from the kitchen, “Got it.”
You roll your eyes. “C’mere.”
Aaron lets you pull him down for more kisses, his tongue moving languidly against yours. Your arms loosely hook around his neck, back arching into his touch as his hands squeeze your waist, your breasts, thumbing over your nipples, fanning the fire already once again.
“Alright, get off her,” Gibbs’s words are gruff, but there’s a hint of teasing in them, too.
Aaron smiles into the last kiss before backing off, pulling you up with him. “You need to rehydrate.”
You roll your eyes but accept the glass of water anyway. “What about you guys?” you say in between sips.
“Don’t worry about us,” Gibbs says, hand stroking your knee.
“This is about you,” Hotch adds.
You smile around your next drink of water. You weren’t expecting to get the best case scenario out of tonight, but clearly you are.
“Since this is about me,” you say, feeling a little bold now that they’re both clearly here to stay, at least for tonight, “I’m gonna go pee, and when I’m done, the both of you better be in the bedroom. Got it?” You raise your eyebrows at them, waiting for their answers.
They share a look and a smirk.
“Yes ma’am,” they reply at the same time, heads snapping to one another when they realize they’ve echoed each other.
You leave them in the living room, knowing their eyes are on you as you walk down the hall.
You take your time in the bathroom, staring at yourself in the mirror for a moment, wondering how tonight is real. You never fantasized about having them both. You thought about having Hotch again; you thought about having Gibbs. But never at the same time. Until you had them both within arms’ reach tonight.
Now you don’t know how you never thought of this, even just to fantasize.
You wait and listen for any movement outside the door to indicate that they’ve followed into your room, but you hear nothing. Not that this surprises you because both men have an affinity for walking quietly and sneaking up on everyone -- though Gibbs does it more intentionally than Hotch, you think.
After giving it a few more moments, you open the bathroom door, coming face to face with Hotch who wastes zero time in lifting you over his shoulder.
“Excuse me!” you laugh, playfully hitting his back. “I can walk just fine.”
“Ohhh, then we haven’t been doing a good enough job, sweetheart,” Gibbs says from beside your bed.
Hotch tosses you onto your bed gently, though it is hard enough to make you bounce. You grin when Gibbs hovers over you with a wolfish grin.
“We’ll do better,” Hotch says, kneeling onto the end of the bed, stroking your calves. “Want to tell Gibbs about something we used to do?”
You see the dark green envy flash across Gibbs’s eyes, and you know it was intentional on Hotch’s part. It makes heat flood your entire body, the way Gibbs stares you down, eyes raking over every part of your face.
“What?” Gibbs says, all heat directed to Hotch but the word is spoken barely an inch from your lips. “What did you do?”
Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately, because it makes the envy flare in Gibbs’s eyes), you have no idea what exactly Hotch is referring to because the two of you did a lot when you were sleeping with one another. The panic is clear in your body to Hotch as you squirm a little, your legs trying to wriggle out of his grasp.
Aaron’s hand circles your ankle, holding you in place. “Well, Gibbs, sometimes when I’d be inside her, she’d want something in her mouth too, but fingers just weren’t enough. Were they, honey?”
Your eyes go wide with the memory of Aaron’s hips slamming into yours while he guided one of your dildos down your throat.
“Won’t need to use one of your toys this time,” Hotch continues. “Will we?”
You watch, slightly mortified, as it dawns on Gibbs what exactly Hotch is implying. And then he’s covering your lips with his, groaning into your mouth.
“Where do you want us?” Gibbs whispers against you, tugging on your bottom lip.
“I want to taste you,” you smirk. “You didn’t let me earlier.”
He chuckles at that. “Alright, you win.”
You yelp, neither of them offering any warning before you’re tugged sideways on the bed so your head hangs slightly over the edge. Gibbs stands in front of your mouth and it sends a thrill through you, hands automatically reaching for him.
Hotch kneels between your legs, spreading your thighs and hooking them over his hips. “Ready, honey?” His thumbs stroke your calves gently, a stark contrast to what you know is about to happen.
You nod furiously, trying to tilt your head to taste Gibbs, but he bats you away again.
“Hey, eyes on me,” he orders, waiting for you to look up at him.
Aaron easily slides home just as you meet Gibbs’s gaze, your eyes rolling in the back of your head. Your mouth falls open in a moan that makes Aaron chuckle, hands palming your hips to lift them, meeting his slow thrusts.
Gibbs strokes your face gently, your eyes fluttering open. “Tap me if it’s too much, got it?”
You nod, eyes lighting up now that he’s offering you what you’ve wanted all night. You reach for him again to wrap your hands around him, but he shakes his head, grabbing your wrists. He places your hands on his thighs with a stern look.
“I’m doing all the work, you just hold on,” he says, lips twitching. “Got it?”
You nod again, relishing in the feeling of Aaron’s deep thrusts, how gentle he is despite how far he reaches inside you. And then, finally, Gibbs guides his cock into your mouth.
Your eyes instantly roll back when you feel him on your tongue. You don’t know what it is, why you’ve enjoyed having something in your mouth at the same time as your pussy, but it’s addicting. You forgot how much you loved it, even though you only did it a handful of times with Aaron, always a little too embarrassed to ask for it again. But clearly he noticed how much you enjoyed it.
It’s pure bliss for you, feeling the weight of them both inside of you at the same time, matching each other’s thrusts. The steady grip of Aaron’s hands on your hips paired with the gentle hold Gibbs has on your head to support your neck. Both caring for you while they fuck you into oblivion.
Gibbs pulls back only for a moment, Hotch slowing down as well so they can ask if you’re still with them.
“I’m great,” you say, voice hoarse, a lopsided smile crossing your face. You rock your hips up when Aaron slows down too much, whimpering when he pins you down. “Want to feel you guys cum in me.”
“You first, honey, you know the rules,” Hotch coos, one hand splaying over your stomach so he can rub circles on your clit. “Then we’ll give you what you want.”
You’re close already just from feeling them in you and all over you and hearing them lose their composure because of you.
“Can you do that?” Hotch asks, knowing damn well that you can. You know he can feel you clenching every time he applies just a bit more pressure to your clit.
You squirm against him all the same, nodding. “Y-Yeah, I can, just-- Need you to move.”
The two men share a silent conversation before Gibbs is tipping your head back again, feeding his cock back into your mouth.
This time, they start talking. Not to you. To each other.
“I’ve never felt her like this,” Aaron says through a groan, pressing as deep as he can into you.
“You’re welcome,” Gibbs says, so smug while he hits the back of your throat just as Aaron grinds against your g-spot, both motions making your eyes roll. “God, I thought she had an oral fixation, didn’t realize it was this bad.”
“Best thing in the world, isn’t she?” Aaron replies, and the sweetness has your lips twitching into a half-smile around Gibbs. “Prettiest girl.”
Gibbs pulls back just to hear your little whine before he cuts it off by thrusting back in. “How does she feel? Close?”
“Right on the edge,” Hotch sings, still rocking into you, still thumbing your clit. “Come on, sweetheart.”
You’re squirming more and more, like you’re trying to run from them and pull them closer at the same time.
Gibbs feels it in your throat when you cum because all of your muscles relax and he slips impossibly deep, head falling back as your body shakes. He pulls back until his head is on your tongue, not wanting to cum down your throat in this position.
“There she is,” Hotch breathes, still circling your clit, still thrusting right against your g-spot to prolong your orgasm. He doesn’t stop until you’re pushing his hand away from your clit. “Okay, okay,” he whispers, soothing you by lacing your fingers together. “Had enough?”
You nod, then shake your head, then nod again. “Wanna feel you guys first.” You pause, head tipping back, baring your throat to him.
Gibbs bends down first for a kiss, checking in, thumbing the tears from the corners of your eyes. Hotch readjusts, lifting your legs so your ankles are over his shoulders, so he can press a kiss to the joint before continuing.
When they start again, you’re not so sure you’ll be able to come again after so many times. Your body is beginning to feel entirely wrung out, limbs going limp.
They play you like a fiddle, but take care of you even while they chase their own highs. You hear them talking to each other again, but it quickly devolves into them talking to you, praising you.
“So good, asking us to do this,” Aaron coos.
“So good for letting us do this,” Gibbs echoes. “Feels amazing.”
“Always feels like Heaven, honey.”
You preen into their touches, into Gibbs’s gentle hands on your neck, into Aaron’s soft touch on your thighs. Maybe it’s the new position, maybe it’s their sweet talking, but it gets you there once again.
Feeling you spasm around him has Aaron shuddering through his orgasm, pressing his hips against yours as close as they’ll go. Gibbs basks in the warmth of your throat for a moment longer before pulling back, spilling over your tongue, then your chin, neck, and chest.
You let out the happiest, content sigh when you feel both of them reach their own release. The two men share a mystified smile.
Your legs shake as Hotch lowers them, your core fluttering around him as he pulls out gingerly, smoothing his hands over your stomach, shushing you.
You let them manhandle you one more time, but now so you can curl up in between them on the bed. You bury your face in Gibbs chest the second he lays down, and you tug Hotch’s arm further around your waist as he settles in behind you.
You’re a smiling mess as Gibbs presses a kiss to your forehead, just as Hotch kisses the crown of your head.
“So…” You pause, unable to stop the mischievous giggle that leaves your lips. “I think that was a tie.”
“A tie?” Gibbs is so incredulous that it makes you laugh harder, hysterical now.
Hotch tightens his arm around your waist. “We’ll just have to try again.”
“She’ll pick the right side,” Gibbs says, kissing your forehead again. “Won’t you?”
He looks deep into your eyes, but all you do is smile at him, giving him no sort of answer that he wants.
“She will,” Hotch says from behind you, possessiveness dripping from his words. “She knows where she belongs.”
Yeah, you think with a smug smile. Right in the middle.
jealousy, jealousy -- Ex!Hotch x Fem!Reader x Gibbs (Kinktober 2025)
Look at me. There was no world in which this was going to be a short fic. Yes there is a bit of build up but it is worth it. This is so self-indulgent it's insane!! NCIS and BAU headquarters both being in/near Quantico sent my head spinning and this was the result. You're welcome 😋
Warnings: 18+ only mdni!!, threesome, oral (m + f receiving), thigh riding, fingering, unprotected p in v (wrap it irl!!! do not be like them!!!), manhandling, facefucking, double penetration, jealous!gibbs and jealous!hotch, i'm prob forgetting some
Summary: You and Hotch used to date when you worked at the BAU. You broke things off before you transferred to NCIS, but remained on good terms. What happens when your ex (and former boss) is called in to consult on a case, and your new boss realizes he has feelings for you? Can you choose between the two? Do you have to?
WC: ...9.8k don't look at me
It starts with the ding of the NCIS elevator.
Gibbs turns his head toward the sound because he isn’t exactly expecting anyone. There’s four -- yes, four -- dead Marines in the past two days, so the bullpen has been void of any witty banter and for once all of you, including DiNozzo, have had your heads down working hard to find any leads. So much so that it’s only you and Gibbs at your desks right now. McGee is helping Abby in the lab, and DiNozzo is chasing up a lead with Ziva.
Then, a gasp. From your lips. Gibbs doesn’t realize that it’s coming from you until you’re standing up and rounding your desk, a smirk on your lips as your arms cross over your chest.
“Well, well, well,” you shake your head, and the playful nature of it all has Gibbs’ head spinning.
You’re never like that with him. With Abby, all the time. With Ziva, occasionally. With DiNozzo and McGee, most of the time. But never Gibbs. And now this stranger has you biting back a grin?
Gibbs doesn’t know who the man is, but he hates him.
The tall man in question -- who definitely has at least an inch on Gibbs, not that he’ll admit it out loud -- smiles and extends his hand toward you, saying your name with a smile just as fond as your eyes. “How’ve you been?”
“Great” comes your reply, and you forgo shaking his hand to pull him into a hug instead. “How’ve you been, Aaron?”
Aaron. So that’s his name. Gibbs hates it. It’s a stupid name. It has nothing to do with how light your voice sounds when you say it, or the way your arms wrap around him so tight. Like he’s a lifeline of yours.
“Good, you know how it is,” Aaron replies easily. “I wondered if I’d still find you here.”
“And here I thought you’d be keeping tabs on me,” you joke, “since you were oh-so reluctant to let me go.”
The man rolls his eyes at you and Gibbs balks. The one time he did that, you glared at him for a week straight.
“NCIS is very lucky to have you.”
You laugh loudly at that, punching Aaron’s shoulder good naturedly. “You could at least try to sound sincere!” You pause, glancing to the side and catching Gibbs’s eyes.
“Wanna introduce us?” The question flies from Gibbs’s lips before he can help it, and sounds a lot more condescending than he means it to. “Or am I interrupting?” He definitely didn’t need to add that, but Aaron has an FBI badge that Gibbs has just noticed, and now he wants to know why the hell the FBI is in this building without his permission.
“My apologies,” Aaron says, stepping over and extending his hand to Gibbs. “I’m Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. Agent Fornell said he would meet me here.”
Gibbs shakes Hotchner’s hand, nodding once. “I’m Agent Gibbs,” he says. “Should’ve known Tobias was behind this.”
“I’m always by your side, Gibbs,” Fornell calls from the elevator. “Sorry I’m late.”
“I wanna know why you’re here at all, Tobias,” Gibbs deadpans. “We’re busy, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“Four dead Marines in forty-eight hours,” you fill in quietly for Hotch.
“I know,” Aaron replies, though not rudely. “That’s why I’m here.”
“What?” Gibbs snaps, exasperated as he gives Tobias his best what the fuck is wrong with you look.
“He’s from the Behavioral Analysis Unit, Jethro,” Fornell lets out a laugh. “You need his help.”
Like hell I do, Gibbs wants to say, but instead he nods toward the elevator. “A word.”
Fornell gives Gibbs a look before turning, leading the way. Gibbs stalks past you and your new best friend, trying not to look Hotchner up and down with threatening intent.
Once inside the elevator, he waits a few seconds after the doors close before flipping the emergency switch.
Fornell chuckles. He’s actually laughing.
Gibbs doesn’t even look at him. “Something funny, Tobias?”
“You’ve got it bad, my friend.”
“What?” Gibbs swings his head toward Fornell, eyes narrowed.
“Don’t what me,” Tobias warns. “We married the same woman, Jethro! You think I can’t tell when the love bug has crawled up your ass?”
Suddenly, Gibbs doesn’t want to discuss any of this at all. He flips the switch.
Tobias flips it back. “Oh no, we are talking about this,” he stands in front of it. “You’ve got it so bad that she smiles at an old coworker and you’re so pissed off you have to come yell at me in the elevator?”
“Coworker?” Gibbs asks. He knew you used to work for the FBI, but that was about as far as he got in your personnel file. He didn’t care where you used to be; he cared how you were here, as an NCIS agent.
“Yeah,” Fornell shakes his head. “Best damn agent the FBI has seen in a long time. You wouldn’t believe the hoops we tried to jump through to keep her. But she was insistent on leaving.”
Gibbs frowns. That doesn’t make much sense to him, but he supposes it won’t, since the two of you hardly ever talk about anything personal. He’s always thought that’s why he could tolerate you the most out of everyone; you never ask anything personal. You keep to yourself and keep focused on the case at hand.
“And Hotch in there,” Fornell nods back toward the bullpen. “The phone calls we got, he was trying so hard to keep her in the BAU, or in another department, but to keep her in the FBI. But again, she wanted to be somewhere new.”
“And she chose NCIS?” Gibbs asks. You’ve been here a little over a year now and he still hasn’t wrapped his head around it.
“Listen, we were just as shocked as you when she accepted the offer from Vance,” Fornell says, shaking his head. “Anyway. Why don’t we focus on the dead Marines you’ve got?”
“Why the hell did you send him here?” Gibbs counters, still unhappy. “If you know they’ve got history.”
Fornell raises an accusatory eyebrow. “Never said they have history. I just said they used to work together.”
“Same difference.”
“You need to pull yourself together, Jethro,” Tobias laughs. “Seriously, when was the last time you were like this?”
Tobias concedes after a moment, sighing heavily. “You’ve got a serial killer on your hands. We both know it. And we need to figure out if he’s targeting Marines, or if it’s just a coincidence.”
“It’s definitely not a coincidence.”
“Well, that’s what we need to figure out,” Tobias continues. “And that’s what Hotch can help with.”
Gibbs scoffs, glaring at Fornell as he reaches around him to flick the switch again. Tobias lets him.
“You really should pull yourself together, Gibbs,” Fornell says. “I thought dating a coworker went against one of those rules of yours.”
Gibbs says nothing. He can’t say anything. Because the second the elevator doors open again, he hears you laughing.
Fornell doesn’t even have time to get through his warning before Gibbs is stalking over, standing just in between the two of you. “Why are we laughing when we should be working?”
Your reply is immediate and not at all full of any of the joy he just heard. “I wasn’t sure if he was cleared or not, boss. Since you ran off with Agent Fornell.”
“He’s cleared,” Fornell supplies. “And Gibbs is happy to accept the help.”
You snort.
“Something funny?” Gibbs asks, cocking his head at you.
“Nope,” you shake your head, staring him down just as unflinchingly. “Shall we get Hotch caught up to speed? Or do you want to continue wasting time by invading my personal space?”
Gibbs’s eyes narrow. He glances between your eyes, dares a glance at your lips that are just barely hinting a smirk, before he nods. “Let’s get started.”
+++
You’ve got no idea what is wrong with your boss, but it’s starting to get old.
It’s been barely a day of having Hotch here and Gibbs’s mood has only gone further and further south.
You think solving the case will help, but when he doesn’t even show a hint of improvement after the arrest, you’re ready to lose it on him.
Hotch takes the unsub, as he calls them, to the Quantico FBI office, which you’re surprised Gibbs agreed to, but he seems so resigned to it all now.
“Looks like I’m riding with you,” you quip, yanking on the passenger door. “Unless you want me to walk back to the navy yard.”
Gibbs just barely smiles. “Get in.”
It’s more than he’s given you in a day, so you’ll take it.
His mood lightens more as he drives, and you realize it’s because Hotch isn’t here. It’s because it’s just you two, and Hotch is busy for the next few hours at least.
You’ve had your suspicions about Hotch being the cause of Gibbs’s bad mood, but for the life of you, you can’t figure out why. It can’t be that you and Hotch used to date because, well, why would that matter to Gibbs? You don’t even think you’ve mentioned that to him, though, knowing Gibbs, his gut probably told him.
You and Hotch dated for a bit when you were at the BAU, but it never went anywhere serious. You were looking into a transfer completely of your own volition when Hotch told you he wasn’t sure he was ready to take your casual dates to the next level. You didn’t blame him; you had kind of expected it. His wife died just a year prior. You were happy to go on dates and help him feel normal again, get his footing in the dating world, and for what it’s worth, you had a great time. There was no bad blood between the two of you when it ended.
So it can’t be that Gibbs is doing his weird overprotective thing that he sometimes does, and it can’t be that he’s interested in you because that’s just absurd -- Gibbs, of all people?
Unless it’s not?
“Can I ask you something?”
“Just did,” Gibbs replies, just as you expected.
“What’s the matter with you?”
He laughs, “A--”
“A lot, yeah, I know,” you cut him off, and his laugh stops abruptly.
He glances at you, then back at the road, lifting his hand off the wheel in surrender. “Alright. What did I do this time?”
“What haven’t you done, Gibbs?” you say back. “You’ve been in a foul mood -- worse than usual -- and it didn’t get this bad until Aaron showed up--”
“You know I don’t like the FBI--”
“Bullshit, Gibbs, you put up with Tobias, you took me in--”
“Yeah, because we stole you from the FBI--”
“I wanted to transfer!”
“Why?” he yells. “Tobias tells me you were the best agent the FBI has seen in a long time and you what? Wanted to leave?”
“I needed a change of pace--”
“Why?”
“Why are you so interested all of the sudden?” you shout back at him, turning in your seat to face him. “Is this about Aaron?”
“Is it?”
You scoff, pissed off and turn to face forward again. “I didn’t leave the FBI because of a man.” You cross your arms over your chest, muttering, “Might leave NCIS because of one though.”
You don’t mean it. He knows you don’t mean it. The statement hangs heavy between the two of you all the same.
Your jaw ticks from clenching it so hard. “Since it’s so interesting to you, yes, Aaron and I briefly dated. I was already looking into a new job when we decided it had run its course. It wasn’t anything bad, he didn’t cheat or break my heart, so you can stop acting like you need to intimidate him.”
“I’m not--”
“You are,” you cut him off again, at this point just because you know how much he hates it. “And I don’t know what’s the matter with you, but you need to quit it. I don’t know why you’re acting like-- like you’re jealous or something, but it’s ridiculous.”
“Jealous?” Gibbs’s voice raises an octave.
“What else am I supposed to think?”
“Maybe I’m just in a bad mood.”
“Right. A bad mood that so conveniently started when you saw me greeting an old friend.”
“Well, as you said, the two of you weren’t just friends--”
“Oh my god,” you laugh because really, this can’t be happening again, but it seems it is. He has feelings for you. He just won’t admit it. Almost exactly what happened with Hotch, though you forgave him long ago for it given the circumstances. Gibbs is just being difficult for the sake of it. “I have a type. Or a magnet attached to me somewhere that pulls men like you.”
He parks in the lot outside NCIS, aggressively shoving the parking break into place. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Figure it out, Jethro,” you snap, throwing the door open and stepping out. “I’m going home.”
“Hey! I didn’t say you were done for the day!”
You lean your head back down, smiling at him sweetly. “I didn’t ask.” You slam the door so hard that it makes Gibbs curse.
But he doesn’t go after you. He’s really done it this time, so he lets you go, while he figures out how to fix it.
+++
God, you don’t know what’s gotten into him.
You’ve had some feelings toward Gibbs for a while now, but you resigned yourself to never acting on them, especially not after Aaron.
But damn if it isn’t hard to not think about it, especially when Gibbs gets jealous.
Which he obviously is. You don’t care what he says. You’ve always suspected your feelings might be mutual but that he had resigned himself in a similar way, so you never thought much of it. But after that conversation in the car?
He is jealous. And he can’t stand it.
It might be more amusing than it is if he isn’t such a dickhead about it all, but you digress.
You make it home just in time to see a text from Aaron. All finished up here. Still on for dinner tonight?
You bite back a grin as you reply. Always.
If Gibbs won’t get his head out of his ass, you will at least do yourself the favor of chasing the high you’ve found these last two days with Aaron. Time has passed, and if you’re reading things right, it seems like he wants to try again. Or, at the very least, wants to try again for tonight, and you’ve been without for so long that you’ll take it. Happily.
You hurry inside your apartment to shower and change into your most subtle-not-subtle ‘I want to have sex with you’ outfit and start perusing what food to order in. You don’t have the energy (or resources, your fridge is bare) to cook, so takeout it is.
You’re midway through scrolling an online menu when you hear knocking.
You check the peephole and try not to grin. “Hey stranger,” you say as you pull open the door.
“Hi,” Aaron replies, eyes immediately darting to your chest before back up to your face. “You look nice.”
“Thank you,” you reply. “Come on in. I see you brought something.”
“You think I’d come over empty handed?” He shuts the door behind him and shrugs his suit jacket off his shoulders, hanging it on one of the hooks. “I know better than that.”
“I know you do,” you murmur, taking the flowers from him. “Thank you.”
“It’s the least I could do,” he says, and for some reason, you think he means it for many things.
As you work to arrange them in a vase, he settles himself against the counter next to you.
“What’s on the menu for tonight?”
“Takeout of some kind,” you chuckle. “I’m way too tired to cook.”
“Fine with me,” he says, pulling out his phone. “Craving anything specific?”
You hum, looking up at him through your eyelashes, in the way you remember always used to get to him. “Surprise me.”
You don’t miss the way his eyes darken as he nods. “Okay.”
You have no idea what he orders, but after a minute or so, he sets his phone down, and goes back to watching you.
“You’re staring again,” you say, trying not to smile down at the flowers. “You only do that when you’ve got something on your mind, so. What is it?”
“The BAU wants you back.”
“Oh,” you raise your eyebrows. The double meaning isn’t lost on you. “The BAU wants me back now, do they?”
“They do.”
“Well then,” you turn your head, looking up at him with a smile. “What’s their offer?”
“Dinner,” he says simply. “Flowers.”
“I think they can do better than that.”
“I think so too,” he says softly, hand sliding along the counter until it meets yours, lacing your fingers together. “I’ve missed you.”
You smile. “I’ve missed you too,” you admit. “Probably more than I thought. Working together the past couple days brought back a lot of memories.”
He hums, pulling you closer, settling his hands on your waist. “Yeah? Like what?”
“Remember that case in Alaska?” you whisper, moving your hands across his chest, up to his shoulders, feeling the warmth of him through his dress shirt. The warmth you’ve craved since the last time you touched him. “That little inn was tiny.”
He smirks. “And you took one for the team by rooming with me.”
“Someone had to,” you chuckle, tipping your head back a little, looking up at him, practically goading him. “That was our first night together.”
“Purely for survival,” he reminds you. “It was cold.”
You nod seriously. “Oh, yes, I remember. But you’re practically a human furnace.” One hand slides from his shoulder, up his neck, cupping his jaw. “The BAU doesn’t want me back, do they?”
He shakes his head. “Just me. They don’t get to have you like this.”
You raise an eyebrow. “And you do?”
His hands squeeze your waist, and he’s already leaning in. “For tonight?”
“Tonight,” you promise, breath hot as you meet his lips halfway.
It takes only seconds for your bodies to remember one another. For you to remember how he likes to be kissed, for him to remember how you like to be lifted onto the counter, with him crowding between your legs.
He’s already hard, grinding into you and you gasp, spreading your legs wider to accommodate his frame. Your hands are all over him, reacquainting yourself with his arms, his shoulders, his hair that you love to pull because of the growls it earns you from the back of his throat.
Aaron pulls back from your lips to latch onto your throat, to that spot that he knows will elicit a whimper, and it still does. He gets high off it, off of all your noises, off of the way you lock your ankles around him, canting your hips into his like you can’t get him close enough. He wants this to last, but God, he’s missed you.
You tug on his hair until he’s back in front of your face, pupils dilated, lips already rosy and spit-slick. You crack a smile, seeing him like this, and he’s dazed, already leaning back in, wanting to taste that smile and store the memory forever.
“I want you,” you whisper to him in between kisses. “I want you, Aaron, it’s been too long.”
He inhales sharply, squeezing your body against his. “I’ve thought about you every day,” he admits. “Every day I’ve wondered why I didn’t tell you we should keep seeing each other since you weren’t going far--”
His words end there, abruptly, because someone is knocking on your door.
“Is that the food already?” you ask. There’s no way you two have been making out for that long.
The knocking only grows louder. And more familiar.
“Want me to answer it?” he asks.
“No, no, I’ve got it,” you mutter, hopping off the counter, hoping to God that it is not who it sounds like. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he says, watching you as you walk away. He lingers in the kitchen, just within earshot, so if the person turns out to be a nuisance, he can step in. If you need him to.
You clumsily try to fix your clothes and face before looking in the peephole and-- Fuck.
“I know you’re right there,” Gibbs’s voice calls from the other side of the door. “And I know you’re mad at me.”
Aaron’s voice from the kitchen “Is that--” just as you pull the door open with a slight grimace.
“Jethro,” you greet him dryly. “What now?”
“Peace offering?” he asks, holding up a bouquet of flowers in one hand and bourbon in the other. “I’m sorry for being an ass today. And yesterday. And all the time.”
You can’t help it, you smile, taking the flowers from him. “Thanks.” You pause. “Look, this is-- Well, this is sort of awkward--”
Gibbs interjects. “What the hell is he doing here?”
You sigh, knowing that must mean Aaron has moved into view behind you. “He’s here for dinner. And…”
“And?” Gibbs presses, and then starts laughing, mostly at himself. “God, I show up with your favorite flowers and the only bourbon you like and he’s fucking beat me to it.”
“Don’t be like this,” you hiss, only feeding off of his attitude. “You’ve had plenty of time to bring me flowers and you never did--”
“He let you walk away once and what? Now you’re just gonna go right back to him?”
“I’m not going back to him,” you snap, feeling Aaron’s presence looming closer behind you now. “And even if I was, it’s not your business.”
“What does he have that I don’t?” Gibbs asks, and for a moment it sends you back on your heels. He sounds so desperate. “He touch you better than I do?”
“I wouldn’t know,” you whisper. “You’ve never touched me the way I want you to.”
“Do you want me to?” he whispers back, a dangerous look in his eyes. “Because I will.”
You nod slowly.
Gibbs shakes his head at you. “I need words, sweetheart.”
“Please,” you can barely get it out. “Come inside.”
It feels like some twisted fate, that when you finally have Gibbs at your door, confessing his damn feelings, you already have your ex in your kitchen, and have already had his tongue in your mouth.
But Gibbs comes in anyway, he shuts the door and flicks the deadbolt. He won’t be leaving soon.
“Is everything okay?” Aaron asks, with an edge to his voice that you know well, but you don’t want right now.
“Both of you, in the living room,” you instruct, moving past them to set the flowers in the kitchen. “Now.”
Both men share a look before doing what they’re told, while you busy yourself with finding another vase to put this bouquet in. You can hear them both pacing in the living room, but they aren’t saying a single word to one another. Which is fine. You don’t need them to speak to each other. You just.
You need a moment to figure out if what you’re about to suggest is such a wild, crazy idea that you’d be better off just kicking them both out.
But that’s the thing. You want both of them. You don’t want to choose. Why should you have to choose?
You fill a glass with water and guzzle it down, taking a deep breath. Worst case scenario, they say no. Or one of them does, and leaves, and you still get the other. Or they both leave.
Christ.
You take one more breath to compose yourself before you head into the living room. Neither of them are sitting, but they both come to a standstill and face you when you enter. They’re so similar in that respect, it almost makes you smile. If you weren’t so nervous.
“Okay,” you begin, wringing your hands. “I’m about to suggest something, and you can tell me no if it’s too crazy or if you just don’t want to do it. Got it?”
“Got it” and “Okay” echo from them.
You stare at them both, raking your eyes over their frames. You really do have a type, and that revelation would be embarrassing if you didn’t have a bigger issue on your mind.
“I want both of you,” you blurt. “I think I’ve made that much obvious. But,” you pause when you can see their confusion brewing, “I don’t want to choose.”
Gibbs shifts on his feet. “What?”
Aaron’s eyebrows furrow. “What are you saying?”
He, of all people, knows exactly what you’re saying, but you know what he’s doing. He’s making you spell it out.
“I want both of you,” you repeat. “Tonight. At the same time. All three of us.” You pause again, trying to gauge their reactions, but in typical Aaron and Jethro fashion, you don’t get much. “I know it’s weird--”
“It’s not weird,” Gibbs stops you there. “You’re sure this is what you want?”
“I don’t know how to make it any clearer,” you chuckle, the nerves starting to melt away since neither of them seem upset or look like they’re about to run. “I didn’t expect you to come here tonight, Gibbs, but with both of you here, I don’t want to choose.”
“You want us to make the decision for you?” Aaron prompts.
Gibbs smirks. “Like a competition?”
You roll your eyes, starting to lose your patience. “If that’s the only way you two pigheaded alpha males will agree to it, then fine.”
Gibbs whistles and Aaron’s eyebrows raise sky-high. The men share a similar look, somehow having a silent conversation with one another.
“Did you hear that?” Gibbs asks Hotch, nodding his head toward you.
Aaron nods slowly, his eyes starting to grow darker again. Fucking shit. You’re in for it now.
“That’s no way to talk to the men you’re practically begging to touch you,” Gibbs continues, slowly stalking toward you.
“I don’t beg for anything, you know that,” you snap, hoping you come across as unbothered, but your body betrays you as your feet take steps backward.
“Maybe not right now,” Gibbs says. “But you will.”
You don’t make it far, and Gibbs cracks a smile when you stumble into the wall, giving him easy access to pin you there, both hands on either side of your shoulders. You swallow thickly, your breaths coming shorter now. He’s been this close to you before, but never like this, never had you licking your lips. His eyes follow the movement.
But still he doesn’t kiss you. The bastard backs away from you.
“I interrupted you earlier,” Gibbs says to Hotch, waving him over. “It’s only fair that you pick up where you left off.”
Not that you don’t want that, “But--”
Gibbs holds up his hand, silencing you only for a moment before you come back to yourself, the foggy haze fading. “But you were supposed to kiss me!”
“No, because that’s what you want, and you’re not going to get what you want with the attitude you have right now,” he says simply, stepping aside and shrugging his coat off his shoulders, folding it over his arm. “Go on, Hotch. Go back to what you were doing.”
Gibbs leaves the room, heading back into the hall to hang up his coat. You hope.
Aaron crowds your space again, holding your chin gently in between his thumb and forefinger to guide your eyes to his and away from glaring at Gibbs. “Are you sure about this?” he asks.
You nod furiously. “I am.”
“Okay,” he says. In one swift movement, he’s lifting you into his arms and backing you against the wall again, kissing you sweeter this time. It’s intoxicating. You roll your hips against his abdomen as you tug at his hair, his hands wandering all over your back, but keeping you secure.
You think you’ve got their number, that Gibbs is going to essentially be the mean one and Aaron the sweet one, but then Aaron is putting you back on your feet too soon and stepping away from you. Gibbs comes back into the room, rolling his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, sharing a look with Hotch.
You look between them, bewildered, chest heaving. “What?”
Gibbs chuckles. “She is so impatient.”
“Tell me about it,” Aaron agrees with a smile, undoing his tie and tossing it on the chair. “What do you think?”
“Hello?” you huff, annoyed that they’re having a full conversation as if you’re not standing right here.
“I don’t know, I was thinking we could--”
You tune out the rest of Gibbs’s words with another eye roll, deciding to take matters into your own hands once again. If they want to act like you’re not here, then you’re going to act like they aren’t here.
You reach for the hem of your shirt and tug it up and over your head, tossing it onto the chair with Hotch’s tie. Both of their words stop abruptly, but you don’t even grace them with a look as you hum to yourself and work your pants down your legs.
You’re just about to reach for the clasp on your bra when you’re practically manhandled into their space, Aaron’s chest against your back with his arms wrapped tightly around you, pinning your arms to your sides.
“Are you finished?” Gibbs asks, leaning down to meet your eyes.
“Depends,” you squirm, but Aaron’s hold is too strong. “Are you two going to start paying attention to me?”
“Oh, is that what you want?” Gibbs smirks. “Fine.” He nods toward the couch and it’s all Aaron needs before he’s walking you over.
It sends a thrill up your spine, sitting in Aaron’s lap on the couch, still firmly pinned. He works his knees in between your thighs before spreading his legs, which in turn only spreads yours impossibly wide and Gibbs--
Gibbs kneels before you, looking up at you with a hunger in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. It only makes you squirm more, though you know it’s useless.
He doesn’t immediately put his mouth where you want him the most, and you don’t know why you even expected him to, considering he’s so dead-set on teasing you. Instead, he presses the gentlest kisses to your inner thighs, one hand wrapping securely around your ankle while the other toys with the edge of your panties.
You toss your head back onto Aaron’s shoulder, hoping you don’t headbutt him in the process.
“Something wrong?” Aaron chuckles into your ear. “I thought this was what you wanted?”
Your back arches when Gibbs mouths at your core through your panties, and you swear you can feel him smiling. “It is, I just--”
“What do you want him to do?” Aaron presses. “Tell him. Use your words.”
“Put his-- Gibbs, put your mouth on me--”
“Already am, sweet girl.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I really don’t.”
“You’re being a bastard on purpose.”
“I always am.”
“Just-- Fucking--” You fight weakly against Aaron’s hold. “Not through my panties--”
“Ohhh,” Gibbs acts like it’s only just dawning on him as he hooks his thumb into the fabric and pulls it aside. “You mean like this?”
You lift your head to look down at him, nodding frantically. “Like that.”
What you don’t expect is for Gibbs to keep his gaze locked in yours as he leans forward, his tongue darting out to massage your clit. It sends such an electric shock through you that your hips buck involuntarily, chasing his mouth, and he just laughs, leaning away from you.
“You are wound up, Jesus, how long has it been since you’ve been with somebody? Don’t answer that.”
You chuckle, your head lolling back onto Aaron’s shoulder so you can turn and whisper to him, “No one since you.” Because it’s true.
But you hadn’t told Aaron that, and the shock is evident on his face. Gibbs senses the moment though and ruins it promptly, finally latching onto your core and flicking your clit with his tongue.
He starts at a rapid pace, one you aren’t prepared for, and you cuss into Aaron’s neck. You have no idea how he knows it, or what tells you give off, but at the exact moment when you feel it, Aaron says, “She’s close.”
Gibbs pulls back from your core, licking lazily as he goes. “Already?”
“Well not anymore,” you grumble, glaring up at Aaron’s jaw. “Asshole.”
“You have a smart mouth on you today,” Gibbs says, pinching your thigh just enough to sting. “Up.”
You’re surprised when Aaron’s arms go lax and he pushes you onto your feet before following you. Gibbs takes Aaron’s spot on the couch and then motions for you, but you don’t move.
“Come here,” Gibbs reaches up and tugs you back down, positioning you so you’re straddling his thigh and facing away from him. “Here’s what you’re gonna do,” he pauses, untwisting the strap of your bra in a sweet gesture that doesn’t match his words, “since you desperately need to cum but need something to do with your mouth, you’re going to ride my thigh and suck him off. How does that sound?”
Euphoric. Surreal. You cannot believe your ears right now.
Gibbs’s hands squeeze your hips. “I said how does that sound?”
“G-Good,” you squeak out, your hands already reaching for Aaron’s hips to pull him closer. He smirks down at you, cupping your jaw as you unbuckle his belt with ease and work his pants and boxers down as far as they need to go. His erection springs free and it’s just as you remember, with the same vein you love to run your tongue over, and the same slight curve to it that your vibrator doesn’t have.
Aaron thumbs at the corner of your mouth. “You’re drooling.”
“Sorry,” you say instinctively, and behind you, Gibbs lets out a laugh.
You’re too entranced to even be angry at him for laughing at you.
“Come on, honey, there you go,” Aaron says, voice syrupy sweet as you open up for him and take him into your mouth. “That’s my good girl.”
Your hips instinctively rock on Gibbs’s thigh at that, searching for some friction, and again, he laughs. “Of course you like being called a good girl when you’ve been nothing but a brat since we started.”
You hum around Aaron’s length, not even caring that Gibbs is taunting you because his hands are on your hips, helping you move, and you can feel him flexing his thigh.
Aaron lets you take as much as you want at first, but you feel it when he starts wanting more. His hand that was once cupping your jaw slowly moves to the back of your neck, just resting there at first. You take more of him, letting the tip hit the back of your throat before backing off and doing it again. His fingers tighten against your skull and you open your eyes, looking up at him, giving him the permission he needs.
“Fuck” is all he gets out before both hands are on your head, guiding you, not forcing, but helping. You hold onto his thighs and pull him in more, taking him down your throat and holding him there when he tries to move you away. You can feel his legs trembling in your hold before you finally back off, just to take him deeper again.
Gibbs’s hands never leave your hips, rolling you right where you need it most, wishing you were riding his cock right now instead. He can’t decide if he wants to feel your mouth on him next or if he wants to go straight to being inside you. But the noises you’re making-- You’re enjoying this, giving Aaron head while letting Gibbs maneuver your body against his thigh. He has no doubt you’re soaking through your panties and probably leaving a wet spot on his leg, but he doesn’t have it in him to care.
“Close, honey,” Aaron warns. “If you want me to stop--”
Your response is to pull him in tighter, refusing to let him leave your mouth until he cums down your throat.
The second you feel him twitching in your throat, your hips start moving at a frantic pace, and Gibbs lets you chase it, wants to feel you come undone like this, just from rubbing on his thigh. When Hotch spills down your throat, you feel yourself shaking with your own orgasm, nowhere near as powerful as his, but enough that you’re taking him deeper into your throat, relishing in the feeling.
Hotch pulls back so just the tip rests on your tongue, letting you gently suck him clean, until he can’t take it anymore, hissing from the sensitivity. You’re licking your lips, smiling up at him lazily while still feeling Gibbs’s hands roaming your body.
“Is that what you needed?” Gibbs asks.
You nod, turning around in his lap so you’re straddling him and the obvious bulge in his pants. “Wanna do the same to you.”
Gibbs smirks, stroking your cheek. “Oh, no, sweet girl, I think I wanna be inside you first.”
A flash of surprise crosses your eyes, but you nod. “Kiss me first?”
“Alright,” Gibbs relents, cupping the back of your head and pulling you in.
You get lost in it, in the feeling of Gibbs’s lips finally on yours after almost a year of teasing one another, a year of him getting up in your face and you wondering just how bad the consequences might be if you closed the gap. Now, it’s finally happening, and you don’t want to miss a single second.
Aaron flops into the chair beside the couch, spent and in a daze after having your mouth on him again.
You’re too busy kissing him, sloppy, hazy, like you want to eat him, to notice Gibbs has cracked an eye open and started smirking at Hotch.
“Need a minute, big guy?” Gibbs chuckles, letting you kiss all over his face instead.
“Once you feel her mouth, yeah, you’ll need a minute,” Aaron says, all breathy the way you remember him being.
You pull your lips away from Gibbs’s jaw to smile lazily at Hotch. “Still good?”
Aaron nods seriously. “Of course, honey.”
Something about it makes you feel downright giddy, being the one to make Aaron Hotchner of all people have such a dazed look on his face and taking heavy breaths to regain his composure.
Your attention is on Aaron for a moment too long, though, and Jethro wants it back. He turns your head back to him and claims your lips again, licking inside your mouth and swallowing your moans.
Without another moment’s hesitation, Gibbs spins you and has your back to the couch, his body hovering over yours. He presses his erection down into your core, barely keeping his eyes from rolling in the back of his head at the feeling. As much as he’s been teasing you, he’s been edging himself, too.
Your legs instinctively wrap around his hips, pushing yours up to meet his and he groans, both hands darting out to pin you down.
Your hands have a mind of their own, reaching for his belt and yanking it open so quickly that he hardly realizes what you’re doing until you’ve done it. Clearly you’ve had a lot of practice, no doubt with the man sitting beside you with his head tossed back and his eyes closed, and the thought makes Gibbs’s blood boil again.
So what if he’s jealous? So what?
He lets you work his pants down before he finishes the job, shoving them aside onto the floor, but leaving his boxers, much to your annoyance. One hand snakes down to your core, into your panties, and you’re squirming again.
“Sit still,” he chides.
“I don’t want your hand, Jethro.”
“Well, too bad,” he snaps back. “I’m not a moron. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“You won’t hurt me,” you whine. “I like the stretch.”
A chuckle leaves Aaron’s lips, and Jethro’s eyes snap to meet his, daring him to say something.
He does. “She’s a menace. She hates it, but you just have to finger her first while she squirms all over the place.”
You pout. “You’re supposed to tell him it’s fine and that I don’t need it.”
“Sorry honey,” Hotch says, leaning over to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
You relent, not that you have much choice, as Jethro works two fingers inside you to start. There’s a slight stretch, the pressure utterly delicious as he thrusts them slowly. He waits a second before adding a third and your back arches into him. You hear him grin.
“She really does like it,” Gibbs says, in awe. He teases you by adding his pinky, and the moan you let out practically echoes off the walls as you clench around him. “Atta girl-- Oh you liked that. I’ve said that to you at work, and the whole time, you’ve gotten off on it, huh?”
You nod against the couch cushions, too blind with the pleasure from his fingers and just the thought of him being inside you soon.
He leans over you, surprising you since your eyes are closed, his lips finding yours and kissing you hot and heavy. He can feel your walls fluttering around his fingers and he knows then that has to make you cum again. His thumb circles your clit and your body jerks, a moan ripping itself from your chest.
“Come on,” he whispers against your lips. “You can do it. There you go, there you go.”
You shatter around him just as he curls his fingers just right, his mouth covering yours to taste the whimpers that leave you, to keep the sounds secret, as if they’re just for him, as if the man beside you hasn’t heard them before.
He slowly slides his fingers out, working his boxers down and away, pulling your panties down and gently laying them on the floor. There’s a question in his eyes, about whether to go search for a condom, and you shake your head. It’s enough to undo him.
Just as Gibbs nestles the head of his cock right where you want him, someone is knocking on your damn door again.
You jolt, eyes going wide and Gibbs stilling above you. Aaron, on the other hand, is calm.
“I’ll get that,” he says casually, standing and adjusting his pants. “Dinner.”
Your eyes fall shut as you curse under your breath. You fucking forgot he ordered dinner.
Half of you expects Gibbs to move off of you, but he doesn’t. He readjusts. He pushes the head inside and your eyes fly open, gaze locking with his. There’s another question in his eyes.
When your gaze doesn’t waver, he presses forward, and your eyes roll back. Your jaw drops open in a moan that Gibbs covers just in time with his hand.
You hear Hotch at the door, chatting so casually with the delivery person as he accepts the food. You bite down on your lip to stifle your moans as Gibbs settles inside you, pressed against the deepest parts of you.
He rocks his hips experimentally, listening for your breaths and taking note of when you clench around him. He keeps his movements slow because he can tell you are loud and he doesn’t exactly want the delivery person hearing you.
Once the door shuts and Aaron walks back into the kitchen, though, all bets are off. Gibbs pulls nearly all the way out before practically slamming back into you, so much so that you see stars from pure pleasure. The head of his cock nudges against your g-spot with every pass and it’s too much--
“It’s not too much,” he chuckles, making you realize you’d said that out loud. His hand slides from your jaw to gently rest around the side of your throat, just holding you. “You can take it.”
Your head thrashes against the couch cushion as the pleasure builds and builds. You grip his arms tightly, trying to warn him but no words come out, only mindless mumbles and whines.
“I know, I know,” he soothes, one hand snaking down to rub circles on your clit. The touch practically lights your body on fire and then you’re clenching around him so hard that his rhythm falters. “Jesus.”
“Cumming,” you try to warn him, but it’s already happening.
“I can feel it-- Jesus, you’re trying to--” Gibbs doesn’t get to finish his sentence before his orgasm takes over, his hips pressed against your pelvis as he lets go inside of you. You squirm against the feeling, the warmth only prolonging your orgasm as you grind your hips down onto him, milking him for all he’s worth.
He grips your hips in both hands, forcing you to stop. “Sit still,” he says through gritted teeth. You feel another twitch as more cum leaks into you and you groan.
“Feels good,” you whine, trying to roll your hips again, your body not done yet, wanting to chase that feeling and have more. “Please?”
“Seriously?” he laughs above you, kissing your jaw, under your ear, your lips. “Give a man a minute to recover.”
“She wants more, doesn’t she?” Aaron’s amused voice comes from the kitchen.
“Y-Yeah,” Gibbs’s voice is shaky from feeling you clench around him. “Is she always like this?”
“Usually,” Hotch says, no doubt smiling.
But you’re not amused. Gibbs is still half hard inside of you and pressed right against your g-spot, and you want another. You want more.
“Please,” you pout. “Please, keep moving.”
He pulls out.
You have to fight the urge to dig your nails so hard into his shoulders that you draw blood.
“You gonna help me?” Gibbs calls out to Hotch. “Or are you tapping out?”
“I’m not tapping out,” Hotch says, deadly serious, and voice sounding closer now. “I was putting the food away for later. Move over.”
Gibbs puts up no fight (surprisingly) as he shifts off of you, gesturing for Hotch to fill the space. Your legs are a little numb from how hard Gibbs fucked you, so you don’t even bother trying to move.
A lazy smile flirts on your lips when Hotch hovers over you. “Hey you.”
“Hi honey,” he smiles. “Doing okay?”
You nod, reaching up to hold his face, pulling him down for a kiss. “Doing great.”
“Need a break?”
You shake your head.
“Need some water?”
You start to shake your head again, but Gibbs calls out from the kitchen, “Got it.”
You roll your eyes. “C’mere.”
Aaron lets you pull him down for more kisses, his tongue moving languidly against yours. Your arms loosely hook around his neck, back arching into his touch as his hands squeeze your waist, your breasts, thumbing over your nipples, fanning the fire already once again.
“Alright, get off her,” Gibbs’s words are gruff, but there’s a hint of teasing in them, too.
Aaron smiles into the last kiss before backing off, pulling you up with him. “You need to rehydrate.”
You roll your eyes but accept the glass of water anyway. “What about you guys?” you say in between sips.
“Don’t worry about us,” Gibbs says, hand stroking your knee.
“This is about you,” Hotch adds.
You smile around your next drink of water. You weren’t expecting to get the best case scenario out of tonight, but clearly you are.
“Since this is about me,” you say, feeling a little bold now that they’re both clearly here to stay, at least for tonight, “I’m gonna go pee, and when I’m done, the both of you better be in the bedroom. Got it?” You raise your eyebrows at them, waiting for their answers.
They share a look and a smirk.
“Yes ma’am,” they reply at the same time, heads snapping to one another when they realize they’ve echoed each other.
You leave them in the living room, knowing their eyes are on you as you walk down the hall.
You take your time in the bathroom, staring at yourself in the mirror for a moment, wondering how tonight is real. You never fantasized about having them both. You thought about having Hotch again; you thought about having Gibbs. But never at the same time. Until you had them both within arms’ reach tonight.
Now you don’t know how you never thought of this, even just to fantasize.
You wait and listen for any movement outside the door to indicate that they’ve followed into your room, but you hear nothing. Not that this surprises you because both men have an affinity for walking quietly and sneaking up on everyone -- though Gibbs does it more intentionally than Hotch, you think.
After giving it a few more moments, you open the bathroom door, coming face to face with Hotch who wastes zero time in lifting you over his shoulder.
“Excuse me!” you laugh, playfully hitting his back. “I can walk just fine.”
“Ohhh, then we haven’t been doing a good enough job, sweetheart,” Gibbs says from beside your bed.
Hotch tosses you onto your bed gently, though it is hard enough to make you bounce. You grin when Gibbs hovers over you with a wolfish grin.
“We’ll do better,” Hotch says, kneeling onto the end of the bed, stroking your calves. “Want to tell Gibbs about something we used to do?”
You see the dark green envy flash across Gibbs’s eyes, and you know it was intentional on Hotch’s part. It makes heat flood your entire body, the way Gibbs stares you down, eyes raking over every part of your face.
“What?” Gibbs says, all heat directed to Hotch but the word is spoken barely an inch from your lips. “What did you do?”
Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately, because it makes the envy flare in Gibbs’s eyes), you have no idea what exactly Hotch is referring to because the two of you did a lot when you were sleeping with one another. The panic is clear in your body to Hotch as you squirm a little, your legs trying to wriggle out of his grasp.
Aaron’s hand circles your ankle, holding you in place. “Well, Gibbs, sometimes when I’d be inside her, she’d want something in her mouth too, but fingers just weren’t enough. Were they, honey?”
Your eyes go wide with the memory of Aaron’s hips slamming into yours while he guided one of your dildos down your throat.
“Won’t need to use one of your toys this time,” Hotch continues. “Will we?”
You watch, slightly mortified, as it dawns on Gibbs what exactly Hotch is implying. And then he’s covering your lips with his, groaning into your mouth.
“Where do you want us?” Gibbs whispers against you, tugging on your bottom lip.
“I want to taste you,” you smirk. “You didn’t let me earlier.”
He chuckles at that. “Alright, you win.”
You yelp, neither of them offering any warning before you’re tugged sideways on the bed so your head hangs slightly over the edge. Gibbs stands in front of your mouth and it sends a thrill through you, hands automatically reaching for him.
Hotch kneels between your legs, spreading your thighs and hooking them over his hips. “Ready, honey?” His thumbs stroke your calves gently, a stark contrast to what you know is about to happen.
You nod furiously, trying to tilt your head to taste Gibbs, but he bats you away again.
“Hey, eyes on me,” he orders, waiting for you to look up at him.
Aaron easily slides home just as you meet Gibbs’s gaze, your eyes rolling in the back of your head. Your mouth falls open in a moan that makes Aaron chuckle, hands palming your hips to lift them, meeting his slow thrusts.
Gibbs strokes your face gently, your eyes fluttering open. “Tap me if it’s too much, got it?”
You nod, eyes lighting up now that he’s offering you what you’ve wanted all night. You reach for him again to wrap your hands around him, but he shakes his head, grabbing your wrists. He places your hands on his thighs with a stern look.
“I’m doing all the work, you just hold on,” he says, lips twitching. “Got it?”
You nod again, relishing in the feeling of Aaron’s deep thrusts, how gentle he is despite how far he reaches inside you. And then, finally, Gibbs guides his cock into your mouth.
Your eyes instantly roll back when you feel him on your tongue. You don’t know what it is, why you’ve enjoyed having something in your mouth at the same time as your pussy, but it’s addicting. You forgot how much you loved it, even though you only did it a handful of times with Aaron, always a little too embarrassed to ask for it again. But clearly he noticed how much you enjoyed it.
It’s pure bliss for you, feeling the weight of them both inside of you at the same time, matching each other’s thrusts. The steady grip of Aaron’s hands on your hips paired with the gentle hold Gibbs has on your head to support your neck. Both caring for you while they fuck you into oblivion.
Gibbs pulls back only for a moment, Hotch slowing down as well so they can ask if you’re still with them.
“I’m great,” you say, voice hoarse, a lopsided smile crossing your face. You rock your hips up when Aaron slows down too much, whimpering when he pins you down. “Want to feel you guys cum in me.”
“You first, honey, you know the rules,” Hotch coos, one hand splaying over your stomach so he can rub circles on your clit. “Then we’ll give you what you want.”
You’re close already just from feeling them in you and all over you and hearing them lose their composure because of you.
“Can you do that?” Hotch asks, knowing damn well that you can. You know he can feel you clenching every time he applies just a bit more pressure to your clit.
You squirm against him all the same, nodding. “Y-Yeah, I can, just-- Need you to move.”
The two men share a silent conversation before Gibbs is tipping your head back again, feeding his cock back into your mouth.
This time, they start talking. Not to you. To each other.
“I’ve never felt her like this,” Aaron says through a groan, pressing as deep as he can into you.
“You’re welcome,” Gibbs says, so smug while he hits the back of your throat just as Aaron grinds against your g-spot, both motions making your eyes roll. “God, I thought she had an oral fixation, didn’t realize it was this bad.”
“Best thing in the world, isn’t she?” Aaron replies, and the sweetness has your lips twitching into a half-smile around Gibbs. “Prettiest girl.”
Gibbs pulls back just to hear your little whine before he cuts it off by thrusting back in. “How does she feel? Close?”
“Right on the edge,” Hotch sings, still rocking into you, still thumbing your clit. “Come on, sweetheart.”
You’re squirming more and more, like you’re trying to run from them and pull them closer at the same time.
Gibbs feels it in your throat when you cum because all of your muscles relax and he slips impossibly deep, head falling back as your body shakes. He pulls back until his head is on your tongue, not wanting to cum down your throat in this position.
“There she is,” Hotch breathes, still circling your clit, still thrusting right against your g-spot to prolong your orgasm. He doesn’t stop until you’re pushing his hand away from your clit. “Okay, okay,” he whispers, soothing you by lacing your fingers together. “Had enough?”
You nod, then shake your head, then nod again. “Wanna feel you guys first.” You pause, head tipping back, baring your throat to him.
Gibbs bends down first for a kiss, checking in, thumbing the tears from the corners of your eyes. Hotch readjusts, lifting your legs so your ankles are over his shoulders, so he can press a kiss to the joint before continuing.
When they start again, you’re not so sure you’ll be able to come again after so many times. Your body is beginning to feel entirely wrung out, limbs going limp.
They play you like a fiddle, but take care of you even while they chase their own highs. You hear them talking to each other again, but it quickly devolves into them talking to you, praising you.
“So good, asking us to do this,” Aaron coos.
“So good for letting us do this,” Gibbs echoes. “Feels amazing.”
“Always feels like Heaven, honey.”
You preen into their touches, into Gibbs’s gentle hands on your neck, into Aaron’s soft touch on your thighs. Maybe it’s the new position, maybe it’s their sweet talking, but it gets you there once again.
Feeling you spasm around him has Aaron shuddering through his orgasm, pressing his hips against yours as close as they’ll go. Gibbs basks in the warmth of your throat for a moment longer before pulling back, spilling over your tongue, then your chin, neck, and chest.
You let out the happiest, content sigh when you feel both of them reach their own release. The two men share a mystified smile.
Your legs shake as Hotch lowers them, your core fluttering around him as he pulls out gingerly, smoothing his hands over your stomach, shushing you.
You let them manhandle you one more time, but now so you can curl up in between them on the bed. You bury your face in Gibbs chest the second he lays down, and you tug Hotch’s arm further around your waist as he settles in behind you.
You’re a smiling mess as Gibbs presses a kiss to your forehead, just as Hotch kisses the crown of your head.
“So…” You pause, unable to stop the mischievous giggle that leaves your lips. “I think that was a tie.”
“A tie?” Gibbs is so incredulous that it makes you laugh harder, hysterical now.
Hotch tightens his arm around your waist. “We’ll just have to try again.”
“She’ll pick the right side,” Gibbs says, kissing your forehead again. “Won’t you?”
He looks deep into your eyes, but all you do is smile at him, giving him no sort of answer that he wants.
“She will,” Hotch says from behind you, possessiveness dripping from his words. “She knows where she belongs.”
Yeah, you think with a smug smile. Right in the middle.
older! neighbor jack who's having a midlife crisis over his love for you.
older! neighbor jack who "accidentally" leaves his shutters open when he's cooking so he can catch you drooling at his biceps.
older! neighbor jack who will always drive you home after a night out.
older! neighbor jack who tucks you in at night, leaving a cup of water on your nightstand.
older! neighbor jack who would notice you getting closer to him over time, touching him more, looking at him through your lashes.
older! neighbor jack who would reluctantly let you crash at his place when you felt lonely but would sleep on the couch so you could be comfy.
older! neighbor jack who's questioning his morals when you grab his face so he can no longer look away from you.
older! neighbor jack who lets you fall asleep on his lap on movie nights.
older! neighbor jack who rubs your back and carries you to bed.
older! neighbor jack who stutters out an "i can't, honey" when you ask him to stay.
older! neighbor jack who spends his entire shift texting you back after you try to flirt with him. "No, you shouldn't be thinking about me like that."
older! neighbor jack who has to slam his phone down after you send him a picture of your shirtless body.
older! neighbor jack who has no clue what to say. "Honey, were you supposed to send that to me?"
older! neighbor jack who's walking home at the end of his shift, picking up his phone and sending you a stupid 'dad' selfie. "Leave your door unlocked."
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