NCIS: Five Hundred
Sep. 8th, 2012 10:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
clare_dragonflyTitle: Five Hundred
Rating: FRAO/NC-17
Characters: Michelle Lee/Jimmy Palmer
Prompt:![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
kink_bingo: wildcard (prostitution)
Summary: Jimmy really likes Michelle's outfit from going undercover. Tag to episode 4x08 "Once a Hero."
Author's Notes: Unbetaed, because I was too lazy to find an NCIS beta, so feel free to point out any typos. Also, feel free to suggest a better title because THIS ONE IS TERRIBLE I HATE TITLES.
On AO3
Jimmy was putting the last of the pipettes back into the drawer, thoroughly washed and neatly stacked, when Michelle came in. This was a frequent habit of theirs. Even when they met during the day, they often met again at night. Jimmy was not going to complain about this.
He heard the doors open and turned with a smile on his face, intending to compliment her on her heroism—he’d heard about her undercover work from Tony, and he was really impressed. But when he saw her, his jaw dropped and his mind emptied of the words he’d prepared.
She was still wearing the courtesan outfit.
She stood just inside the doors for a moment, smiling shyly, but when she saw his expression, her smile widened and her eyes twinkled in the dim light. She took a few slow steps toward him, her hips swaying, smoothing her hands over her dress. “You like, Mr. American Businessman?”
Jimmy closed his mouth with a snap and swallowed past his dry mouth. They’d talked about things like this, branching out, experimenting—but usually when they saw each other they were in too much of a hurry, or at least too impatient, to do anything other than tear off each other’s clothes and rut in the nearest unoccupied space. But tonight they had time, didn’t they?
And she looked so amazing in those clothes, so different from her usual refined, businesslike appearance. The dress skimmed her curves and showed her legs; the bright lipstick made her lips look fuller and infinitely kissable, even while they exaggerated the smallness and delicacy of her other features. The rest of the makeup and the way her hair was swept back made her look tantalizingly exotic, an adjective he’d never applied to Michelle before, despite the fact that her parents hadn’t been born in this country and she spoke fluent Chinese. And she’d lost the headband she’d been wearing when he saw her earlier in the elevator, which he’d thought really took away from the outfit. Even the fake, exaggerated accent she was putting on sounded sexy.
He wiped his hands on his pants and managed a nod. There should be a reply, right? What did an American businessman say to a prostitute he met in a foreign country? “Yeah, I… I do.” That probably wasn’t right at all.
Michelle didn’t seem to mind, though. “Yeah?” She took a few more sashaying steps forward, sliding her hands over her hips suggestively, then did a slow spin in place. She was even wearing heels. She never wore heels—not impractical, shiny, spike ones like this. It was always practical, low, sturdy shoes, not to mention pants that hid her legs. These heels bent her calves into a luxurious curve and accented her shapely ass—or maybe that was the dress. Despite Jimmy’s interest in fashion, he couldn’t tell which and he didn’t care. All he wanted to do was reach for it…
She slapped his hand away, spinning to face him again. “You pay before you touch, bad, bad man!” She wagged a finger at him, smirking. Of course, a real prostitute wouldn’t want to scare away her customer before he paid.
He smiled back, which wasn’t hard, except that all he wanted to do was stare. And something else was hard already, just looking at her. She could probably tell, even in the loose scrubs. No, he was an American businessman. He was wearing a suit and the jacket hid the bulge in his pants. He reached for an imaginary wallet in his back pocket. “How much?”
“One hour, five hundred dollar.”
“Five hundred?!” The squawk of surprise came out of him before he could stop it. He swallowed, trying to think of some way to justify what he’d just said, then realized that it made sense in his role. The American businessman didn’t want to pay any more than he absolutely had to, no matter how incredibly sexy the courtesan was.
“Oh, you don’t like that?” She spun again, one hand on her hip. “Too bad. You pay my price or you find somebody else.” She started to walk away, the sway of her hips even more exaggerated.
“Wait, wait.” He ran to catch up with her and opened his imaginary wallet. “Five hundred. Fine. That seems fair.” He handed her imaginary bills.
She smirked and tucked the imaginary bills into the shoulder of her dress. “Glad to see you come to your senses.” She stepped up to him, closing the small gap between them, and ground her hips against his. He gasped and grabbed at her waist to steady herself. “Come on, Mr. American man. I show you best place.”
He nodded, bemused, then leaned down to kiss her, but she’d already turned again—how was she balancing so well on those impossible heels?—and taken him by the hand. She led him out of Autopsy and, to his surprise, into the elevator. Where was she taking him? And wouldn’t someone see them?
When they got up to the main floor, though, it seemed deserted. There was a janitor in the far corner, but the lighting was dim and not even Agent Gibbs’ team were at their desks. He wanted to ask Michelle where everyone was, but she seemed to be enjoying the fantasy so much, he didn’t want to break it.
“Here, this nice hotel,” she said, opening a door. “Plenty of room for two of us.”
They were at her office. She went inside ahead of him, then stopped and locked the door when he was inside. Well, if they were going to have an imaginary hotel room, this made sense, didn’t it? “Yes,” he agreed. “This is a nice hotel.”
She turned her back to him, but this time, from the set of her shoulders, he guessed she wasn’t teasing him by walking away. “You do my buttons.”
Buttons? Oh, there were tiny buttons along the back of the dress. He set to them with a will. They were tricky, but he had clever fingers—it would be hard to make it as an ME’s assistant without them—and soon he was revealing the creamy, beautiful skin of her back. Then the last button came undone, and she slipped the dress off her shoulders and onto the floor.
He gasped when she turned around. She wasn’t wearing a bra, just a pair of barely-there panties and stockings held up by garters. He reached for her, stroking his hands down her body, and this time she let him bend down and kiss her.
Both the imaginary hotel room and the reality of the office building fell away. It was just her body in his arms, his lips on her lips, and then her hands on him, tugging off his clothing. He groaned at the feeling of her warm hands on his skin, then groaned again when she broke the kiss and pulled away. She tossed his shirt aside, then knelt in a way that made the blood rush away from his head and pulled down his pants and boxers in one smooth movement.
Then she stood up again and sashayed around the desk, sing-songing, “One minute!”
She opened and closed a drawer, and when she returned, she had a condom in her hand. She tore off the wrapper and tossed it in the trash, then knelt again. She pressed it onto the tip of his cock, then slid it all the rest of the way down with her mouth.
It was all he could do to keep his balance, with her hot, wet mouth going further and further down and his cock getting impossibly harder. He couldn’t also stop himself from groaning out her name. “Michelle…”
The condom in place, she slid her mouth back up and looked up at him, that mischievous grin returning. “That my name today, Mr. American businessman?”
He grinned back, glad she’d found a way to fit his slip into the play. “If you don’t mind.”
“Oh, I use any name you want. Now you come down here with me, on this nice soft bed.” She took his hand and tugged him down. He went willingly, kneeling down in front of her, then slid his hands down her shoulders and onto her breasts. She moaned and giggled, a high-pitched, wanton sound he hadn’t heard from her before.
He shifted his position to be closer to her side, then slipped one hand under her shoulders and the other under her ass. First he gave it a squeeze, then he lifted her up, tilting her back so her legs flew out from underneath her. She laughed with real pleasure this time, and he relished the pleasure in her eyes when he set her back down. Now she was breathing as hard as he was.
He kissed her neck, then continued his way down her body until he reached the tiny panties. He had a little trouble getting them past the garters, but the sight of those sheer stockings adorning her legs was so delicious he just had to leave them in place.
As soon as he’d gotten them past her shoes, she spread her thighs and reached down to part her labia with her fingers. “Come on, Mr. American, don’t you want me?”
“Yes, I do,” he whispered, unable to say anything else, mesmerized by the sight of Michelle touching herself. His cock was throbbing and he thought he might start shaking soon. So he crawled up to her, looked into her sparkling brown eyes, and thrust into her without further pause.
They both gasped at the sensation, and his arms really did start shaking, so he dropped down onto his elbows. This position had the benefit of letting his chest brush against Michelle’s tight nipples, and as he started to move back and forth she gasped again and clutched at the back of his neck.
He didn’t last long, but that was okay. He’d had a good time, and Michelle seemed to be, too. After a few minutes, he sat up enough to toss out the condom, then lay back down next to her, ignoring the scratchy carpet against her skin—if she could deal with it, he could, too. “That was wonderful, Michelle,” he said, grinning, because why end the roleplay now?
She smirked back at him, evidently thinking the same thing. “Worth five hundred dollars?”
“Every penny,” he said, and kissed her.
She grabbed him and hugged him tight after they broke the kiss. “I knew you liked the outfit,” she whispered.
“It’s a pretty amazing outfit,” he whispered back.
“But maybe next time you can dress up.”
He laughed softly into her hair. “Just tell me what to wear. I’ll be there.”
Rating: FRAO/NC-17
Characters: Michelle Lee/Jimmy Palmer
Prompt:
kink_bingo: wildcard (prostitution)Summary: Jimmy really likes Michelle's outfit from going undercover. Tag to episode 4x08 "Once a Hero."
Author's Notes: Unbetaed, because I was too lazy to find an NCIS beta, so feel free to point out any typos. Also, feel free to suggest a better title because THIS ONE IS TERRIBLE I HATE TITLES.
On AO3
Jimmy was putting the last of the pipettes back into the drawer, thoroughly washed and neatly stacked, when Michelle came in. This was a frequent habit of theirs. Even when they met during the day, they often met again at night. Jimmy was not going to complain about this.
He heard the doors open and turned with a smile on his face, intending to compliment her on her heroism—he’d heard about her undercover work from Tony, and he was really impressed. But when he saw her, his jaw dropped and his mind emptied of the words he’d prepared.
She was still wearing the courtesan outfit.
She stood just inside the doors for a moment, smiling shyly, but when she saw his expression, her smile widened and her eyes twinkled in the dim light. She took a few slow steps toward him, her hips swaying, smoothing her hands over her dress. “You like, Mr. American Businessman?”
Jimmy closed his mouth with a snap and swallowed past his dry mouth. They’d talked about things like this, branching out, experimenting—but usually when they saw each other they were in too much of a hurry, or at least too impatient, to do anything other than tear off each other’s clothes and rut in the nearest unoccupied space. But tonight they had time, didn’t they?
And she looked so amazing in those clothes, so different from her usual refined, businesslike appearance. The dress skimmed her curves and showed her legs; the bright lipstick made her lips look fuller and infinitely kissable, even while they exaggerated the smallness and delicacy of her other features. The rest of the makeup and the way her hair was swept back made her look tantalizingly exotic, an adjective he’d never applied to Michelle before, despite the fact that her parents hadn’t been born in this country and she spoke fluent Chinese. And she’d lost the headband she’d been wearing when he saw her earlier in the elevator, which he’d thought really took away from the outfit. Even the fake, exaggerated accent she was putting on sounded sexy.
He wiped his hands on his pants and managed a nod. There should be a reply, right? What did an American businessman say to a prostitute he met in a foreign country? “Yeah, I… I do.” That probably wasn’t right at all.
Michelle didn’t seem to mind, though. “Yeah?” She took a few more sashaying steps forward, sliding her hands over her hips suggestively, then did a slow spin in place. She was even wearing heels. She never wore heels—not impractical, shiny, spike ones like this. It was always practical, low, sturdy shoes, not to mention pants that hid her legs. These heels bent her calves into a luxurious curve and accented her shapely ass—or maybe that was the dress. Despite Jimmy’s interest in fashion, he couldn’t tell which and he didn’t care. All he wanted to do was reach for it…
She slapped his hand away, spinning to face him again. “You pay before you touch, bad, bad man!” She wagged a finger at him, smirking. Of course, a real prostitute wouldn’t want to scare away her customer before he paid.
He smiled back, which wasn’t hard, except that all he wanted to do was stare. And something else was hard already, just looking at her. She could probably tell, even in the loose scrubs. No, he was an American businessman. He was wearing a suit and the jacket hid the bulge in his pants. He reached for an imaginary wallet in his back pocket. “How much?”
“One hour, five hundred dollar.”
“Five hundred?!” The squawk of surprise came out of him before he could stop it. He swallowed, trying to think of some way to justify what he’d just said, then realized that it made sense in his role. The American businessman didn’t want to pay any more than he absolutely had to, no matter how incredibly sexy the courtesan was.
“Oh, you don’t like that?” She spun again, one hand on her hip. “Too bad. You pay my price or you find somebody else.” She started to walk away, the sway of her hips even more exaggerated.
“Wait, wait.” He ran to catch up with her and opened his imaginary wallet. “Five hundred. Fine. That seems fair.” He handed her imaginary bills.
She smirked and tucked the imaginary bills into the shoulder of her dress. “Glad to see you come to your senses.” She stepped up to him, closing the small gap between them, and ground her hips against his. He gasped and grabbed at her waist to steady herself. “Come on, Mr. American man. I show you best place.”
He nodded, bemused, then leaned down to kiss her, but she’d already turned again—how was she balancing so well on those impossible heels?—and taken him by the hand. She led him out of Autopsy and, to his surprise, into the elevator. Where was she taking him? And wouldn’t someone see them?
When they got up to the main floor, though, it seemed deserted. There was a janitor in the far corner, but the lighting was dim and not even Agent Gibbs’ team were at their desks. He wanted to ask Michelle where everyone was, but she seemed to be enjoying the fantasy so much, he didn’t want to break it.
“Here, this nice hotel,” she said, opening a door. “Plenty of room for two of us.”
They were at her office. She went inside ahead of him, then stopped and locked the door when he was inside. Well, if they were going to have an imaginary hotel room, this made sense, didn’t it? “Yes,” he agreed. “This is a nice hotel.”
She turned her back to him, but this time, from the set of her shoulders, he guessed she wasn’t teasing him by walking away. “You do my buttons.”
Buttons? Oh, there were tiny buttons along the back of the dress. He set to them with a will. They were tricky, but he had clever fingers—it would be hard to make it as an ME’s assistant without them—and soon he was revealing the creamy, beautiful skin of her back. Then the last button came undone, and she slipped the dress off her shoulders and onto the floor.
He gasped when she turned around. She wasn’t wearing a bra, just a pair of barely-there panties and stockings held up by garters. He reached for her, stroking his hands down her body, and this time she let him bend down and kiss her.
Both the imaginary hotel room and the reality of the office building fell away. It was just her body in his arms, his lips on her lips, and then her hands on him, tugging off his clothing. He groaned at the feeling of her warm hands on his skin, then groaned again when she broke the kiss and pulled away. She tossed his shirt aside, then knelt in a way that made the blood rush away from his head and pulled down his pants and boxers in one smooth movement.
Then she stood up again and sashayed around the desk, sing-songing, “One minute!”
She opened and closed a drawer, and when she returned, she had a condom in her hand. She tore off the wrapper and tossed it in the trash, then knelt again. She pressed it onto the tip of his cock, then slid it all the rest of the way down with her mouth.
It was all he could do to keep his balance, with her hot, wet mouth going further and further down and his cock getting impossibly harder. He couldn’t also stop himself from groaning out her name. “Michelle…”
The condom in place, she slid her mouth back up and looked up at him, that mischievous grin returning. “That my name today, Mr. American businessman?”
He grinned back, glad she’d found a way to fit his slip into the play. “If you don’t mind.”
“Oh, I use any name you want. Now you come down here with me, on this nice soft bed.” She took his hand and tugged him down. He went willingly, kneeling down in front of her, then slid his hands down her shoulders and onto her breasts. She moaned and giggled, a high-pitched, wanton sound he hadn’t heard from her before.
He shifted his position to be closer to her side, then slipped one hand under her shoulders and the other under her ass. First he gave it a squeeze, then he lifted her up, tilting her back so her legs flew out from underneath her. She laughed with real pleasure this time, and he relished the pleasure in her eyes when he set her back down. Now she was breathing as hard as he was.
He kissed her neck, then continued his way down her body until he reached the tiny panties. He had a little trouble getting them past the garters, but the sight of those sheer stockings adorning her legs was so delicious he just had to leave them in place.
As soon as he’d gotten them past her shoes, she spread her thighs and reached down to part her labia with her fingers. “Come on, Mr. American, don’t you want me?”
“Yes, I do,” he whispered, unable to say anything else, mesmerized by the sight of Michelle touching herself. His cock was throbbing and he thought he might start shaking soon. So he crawled up to her, looked into her sparkling brown eyes, and thrust into her without further pause.
They both gasped at the sensation, and his arms really did start shaking, so he dropped down onto his elbows. This position had the benefit of letting his chest brush against Michelle’s tight nipples, and as he started to move back and forth she gasped again and clutched at the back of his neck.
He didn’t last long, but that was okay. He’d had a good time, and Michelle seemed to be, too. After a few minutes, he sat up enough to toss out the condom, then lay back down next to her, ignoring the scratchy carpet against her skin—if she could deal with it, he could, too. “That was wonderful, Michelle,” he said, grinning, because why end the roleplay now?
She smirked back at him, evidently thinking the same thing. “Worth five hundred dollars?”
“Every penny,” he said, and kissed her.
She grabbed him and hugged him tight after they broke the kiss. “I knew you liked the outfit,” she whispered.
“It’s a pretty amazing outfit,” he whispered back.
“But maybe next time you can dress up.”
He laughed softly into her hair. “Just tell me what to wear. I’ll be there.”