JETHRO x JENNY

(Smut ahead! You have been warned)

~*~*~

" You're a bad man Jethro, "

Safehouse, Paris, France

They had just relocated to a cramped attic in the middle of Paris, on surveillance duty. With the restricted living conditions and short tempers, an argument was inevitable.

"You've taken digs at my competence all day, why sugar-coat it now?" Jenny stood up, folding her arms, glaring at Jethro. "Tell me why I'm not good enough."

She didn't give him any time to come up with a snappy response, her anger boiling over.

"I trust my instincts, you second guess me, you, God, you—" She faltered and he interrupted her sharply.

"So hold your own! This is a partnership, I have to know you trust yourself—"

She didn't even know what they were talking about anymore. The words sounded like they had a double meaning. He reached out and tried to stop her from backing away from him but she jerked back, not trusting herself to be near him.

"Jen," he barked sharply, warningly, just as her foot hit the edge of the attic's exit, disrupting her balance. Her breath hitched as she stumbled, forcing her eyes shut, her mind prepared for a vicious fall.

Before she knew what had happened, Jethro had her around the waist, pulling her against him as he backed away from the hole in the floor.

She pulled back but his hand shifted from her waist to her back. She released his shoulders and moved her hands to his face, jerking his head down to her and turning her head up to press her mouth to his.

He responded instantly, running his tongue along her bottom lip and coaxing her mouth open; her knees buckled and she let her hands fall from his face to his shoulders again, drawing his shirt into her hands and pulling him closer until all of him was pressed against her.

He didn't give her more than a second to breathe; he took her open mouth under his again.

Jenny pulled at his shirt, fumbling with the material. She dropped her hands to the hem and jerked it upward, attempting to get it off of him without breaking the kiss. He pulled back, his hands going to her top, and started yanking upwards as she threw his against the wall, her small hands falling against his bare skin and sliding over him eagerly. He groaned as he disposed of her shirt and pulled her back with his hand in her hair.

"Bed," she choked before he smothered her again, his lips demanding and possessive, charged with the same repressed lust and desire that coursed through her.

She hooked her fingers into the waistband of his jeans, working her thumb against the button as the back of her knees hit the bed and Jethro threw her back onto it. He reached for the top of her jeans and tugged, pulling them off and leaving her in her bra and underwear before him, his eyes raking hungrily over her body.

She got his jeans off and threw them to the side, running her hand over the cotton material of his boxers and around to his navel. His muscles contracted and she slid her hand under the material, dipping lower. He pushed her head back gently, his lips falling to her jaw and her neck; his arm slipped under her to the clasp of her bra and he unsnapped it, drawing a smirk from her as she thought fleetingly of their earlier conversation.

Jethro drew the straps down her shoulders, kissing her where they had been, his hand following her skin from her neck to her stomach and back up again, brushing her ribs and the side of her breast. She moaned, heat pooling in the pit of her stomach. She wrapped her leg around one of his, his name escaping her lips in a hoarse whisper as he cupped her breast in one hand, his other weaving between them, flirting with the sparse silk covering her.

Silk and restrictive cotton were disposed of, thrown carelessly across the room; she didn't have time to think about what they were doing, she just wanted him to do it.

He shifted so she felt him pressed against her and shivered, turning her head to find his dark, cobalt eyes on her. She disentangled her leg and wrapped one around his waist, digging her heel into his back, pulling him closer, wrapping an arm around his neck to lace into his hair, pulling him close for another breath-taking kiss that had them both moaning in anticipation.

"What the hell are you waiting for?" she asked throatily, nipping his ear with her teeth, kissing his jaw, wrapping her other long leg around his waist.

He pushed into her and she gasped, throwing her head back, her hands tightening behind his head, in his hair. He gave her barely a second to adjust before he pulled out agonizingly and thrust back in, burying himself in her.

"God, Jethro!"

He didn't have the control or the restraint to take it slow. She threaded her fingers in his hair, pulled his mouth down to hers and kissed him, moaning against his lips every time he thrust.

Her eyes fluttered and she dipped her head to his shoulder. He felt her muscles tighten around him; her hands gripped tighter at his skin, the fever of her hot, slick skin urging his pace on.

"Christ...Jen," he choked out, questioning, his shoulders shaking. She tilted her head to his ear, moaned his name loudly in response, her breath hitching.

He wanted her screaming. This was the fulfilment of a fantasy that had been playing in the back of their minds for months and he wanted this memory burned in her mind.

He found her hands and held them together in one of his, tightening his fingers around her wrists like a rope, pushing them over her head so her knuckles brushed against the bed frame. She bit her lip and gasped, her legs slipping at his waist.

He felt her coming undone around him and his arms buckled; he pushed against her hard, cresting with her, his shoulders shuddering with this release. He loosened his grip on her hands and felt his muscles relax as he collapsed.

She drew her breath sharply, wincing as his warmth left her, suddenly cold where she had once been miserably hot. Jenny closed her eyes, swallowing, her breathing erratic.

She drew her lip between her teeth, listening to his harsh breathing, for once completely unconcerned with the consequences of her actions. She was speechless at how fast it had happened, how easily and naturally.

Lightheaded, she sighed slowly, finally catching her breath, the feelings crashing over her one at a time: disbelief, dizziness, ecstasy, lust again. Shifting slightly, so he moved his leg from between hers and lifted his head, looking at her indecipherably, she laughed.

She was amazed at how comfortable this was, how she melted to him, blithely unconcerned that she'd just recklessly made love to her boss in a dusty attic, potentially jeopardizing a mission.

He was caught up in thoughts of her body wrapped around him, her hands brushing against his skin and her how her tempting, seductive mouth had tasted when he'd finally been able to take it under her. He responded at the thought, trailing his hand lightly over her navel and lower, touching sensitive skin. She shifted towards him, rolling on her side a little, but he leaned over her and pushed her back to her original position.

"Bad, Jethro," she said chidingly, her lips turning up in a smirk.

She felt him smile into her shoulder, his hair tickling her neck and chest, his hand still lingering teasingly at her thighs. He shifted and placed his legs on either side of her, so he was on top of her again, walking his hand up from her thigh to her breasts, his eyes drinking her in with interest in the now almost dark room.

"We probably shouldn't do it again," he said wickedly, drawing the back of his hand down her side, shaking his head in mock dejection as he bent to kiss her again, lingering on her bottom lip until she moaned softly.

"Probably not," she whispered, stressing the first word. She let his hands roam her.

He murmured something unintelligible against her neck and scraped his teeth gently against her skin, sending a wave of heat down her spine. His mouth moved lazily lower and she faltered for a moment, closing her eyes briefly before she wrapped an arm around his bicep lightly and upset his weight, flipping him over under her and pressing his shoulder back into the mattress.

His eyes went wide with surprise, the look on his face surprisingly cute and endearing. You would think he wasn't used to women taking the lead. She smirked and lifted an eyebrow drawing her nails lightly from his shoulder to his stomach, where his muscles tightened again.

"You don't mind," she asked, faking concern, "do you?"

His shocked look faded quickly to roguish and he reached up to place his hands on her thighs, stroking up leisurely, his fingertips sinking into her skin.

"Can't complain about the view," he quipped, his hands moving up her stomach.

Jenny leaned forward slowly, pressing her mouth against his chest as his hands roamed over her again, his touch teasing and sensual.

She hardly remembered they'd been at each other's throats ten minutes ago. She should be concerned about her job, their work ethic, the initial stupidity of letting this happen, but she wasn't. All she was concerned about was his hand fisting into her damp hair and his lips against her ear as he moaned her name.

She kissed down his chest, her stomach stirring, wanting him again, and again after that if just to sate the intoxicating fantasies she'd been having for months now. He shifted under her, his fingers slipping through her hair. She worked for a hand between them and gripped him until his breathing was strangled and short.

"God, Jen, what the hell are you waiting for?" he asked gruffly, throwing her words back in her face as her mouth lingered at his navel, testing how long they could wait. She looked up and smirked wickedly, pressing open-mouthed kisses back up his torso until she reached his neck and straightened up, drawing his hands to her hips.

"I want it," she said, lacing her fingers through his and gripping him tightly, shifting her hips so she was almost on top of him, watching the agony in his face, "slow."

He groaned, pushing her hips down, his adrenaline surging at the thought of drawing this out. It was too much to feel her around him and be still, to wait; she pressed his hands against her waist and let go of him, pressing her hands against his chest. He bucked against her, his fingers tightening into her ribs, ignoring the brief look of discomfort in her emerald eyes.

She moved slowly, too slowly, her nails tightening into his skin, leaving crescent-moon marks below his shoulders. His hips moved against hers again, eliciting a moan from her. He roughly slid his hands down to her thighs, teasing her, watching her draw her lip between her teeth and furrow her brow. She lifted an arm above her head, pushing her hair back, throwing it messily over her fair shoulders before she leaned forward, her pace quickening, and pushed his hands behind his head as he had hers.

Jethro gripped the metal frame tightly, his knuckles turning white, nails digging into his own palms.

"Jethro," she mumbled against him, her voice breaking, her breath hitching at his reaction, laughing softly.

"Jenny," he moaned hoarsely, throwing his head back, arching into her this time, desperate to feel her clench around him again. She curled her hands into the mattress behind his shoulders, dropping her head to the place between his shoulder and neck with a low keen, her tongue brushing against his skin.

She wormed a hand underneath him, flattening it against his back, pushing against him. She gasped as he thrust, moving her other hand to lie against his, wrapping her fingers around his on the metal frame. Unable to control it any longer, he let go of the frame, holding her hand in his to flip her over and take her hard, unwinding her easily, like it was the first time again.

His shoulders slumped, his head falling to her shoulder, mumbling her name thickly against skin that was once again warm and wet. She arched against him again as he rolled off of her, falling onto his back and jerking her roughly with him.

Jenny curled against his hot skin, shifting onto her side, her mouth open against his neck as she rested next to him. His breathing slowed easier this time, his fingers stroked up and down her spine lazily, his eyes closed. Sleep pulled at her eyes, exhaustion and post-coital bliss chasing away any remaining remnants of bitterness or irritation.

His hand came to a rest low on her back, flattening against her hip, his thumb tracing circles on her skin. Jenny gently blew her hair out of her face, no longer annoyed with it—no longer annoyed with anything—and let herself fall asleep.