DISCLAIMER: NCIS and its characters are the property of CBS, no infringement intended.
WARNING: This one is a little outside normal... Contains blood play. Don't blame me; blame my subconscious and the muse. They's conspiring, I tells ya.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Pay attention to the warning! *points up* Don't read it if you think you'll be squicked; you'll have only yourself to blame! *looks over* There, I think that's enough shooing... if anyone is still around... read on! :D
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
SPOILERS: Bete Noire, Twilight, Kill Ari

By Geonn


I watch her, studying her outline against the harsh light of her computer monitor. Her pigtails rise from her head, looking like the perked ears of a dog. She couldn't hear my approach, not over the pounding beat of the music. She's bent over now, focusing on some minutia on the table in front of her. I'm right behind her, at arm's length, can smell her perfume, can sense her more acutely than before.

She's alive in a sense I never noticed before, distracted by my own vitality. Life, once it has left you, becomes an overwhelming odor that you can never quite describe or escape. I'm on her now, my breast to her back. She gasps as my hand closes on her forehead, pulling her head back against my collar.

Her heart is pounding. Dear God, I can feel it against my palm and its burning against me. I need it. I lean down and kiss her cheek, feeling her relax as she recognizes me for who I am. Caitlin, colloquially Kate. Her Kate, the one she opened from her shell, the one she molded into the person I was when I died.

She doesn't struggle, her hand coming up to rest on my forearm. Not to stop me, to hold me there, to put us into contact. I bend down, caressing her hair as I tilt her head to the side. She bares her neck to me, totally trusting, the veins in her neck practically neon-lit as I bow my head to worship her.

I close my lips around the spider web, my teeth digging into the spires of it. Abby whimpers so quietly that I feel it more than hear it, her fingertips digging in a little tighter as my teeth pierce her flesh. I find a vein immediately, severing it with my teeth and repressing an orgasmic groan as the sweet coppery taste floods my mouth. Like biting down on my tongue, a surge of blood flows past my cheeks.

I have to force myself to swallow, pushing past the gag reflex as I drink Abby, take her completely. My teeth leave her and my tongue probes the wound, forcing more blood out. I had fought myself the entire way up here from the morgue, telling myself this would be hideously wrong, that I would never be forgiven, that I couldn't take this step. But now, all I wanted was more. More taste, more of Abby. I can taste her in her blood, the spirit of her. I reach down with my free hand and caress her breast, feeling the nipple rock-hard through her t-shirt and bra.

I release her head and neck, reluctantly turning her chair around to face me. I lift my wrist to her and she nicks it with her fingernail. The blood that has refused to flow through my veins pearls against my pale flesh and she lowers her mouth to it. Warm lips, the lips of the living, press against my skin and she sucks on me, she draws the blood out and the vacuum pulls the blood through my veins.

I'm weak, horny, I want her, I need to have her, I need more of her blood. I see the blood on her neck and I want to attack her again. But I can't. I pull her bloody lips from my wrist and kiss her hard, mingling our copper-tinged tongues. I pull back and stroke her hair, smile at her and hold my hand against her wounded neck. She closes her eyes and tilts her head against my arm, kissing the forearm and leaving a smeared lip-print of blood.

"Good-bye, Abby," I say.

They're the first words I've spoken since my death... and the last.

Abby blinked and focused on the table in front of her, slowly sitting up. What a dream... vivid, unmistakably erotic... she shivered at the memory and reached up, touching her neck as if to ensure it was a dream. Rubbing her eyes, she slipped off the stool intending to walk over to her desk.

She paused when she glanced down at the floor. Something on the tile... she dropped to one knee and touched it, heart pounding as she realized what it was.

A single pearl of black-red blood.

Still wet.

Abby looked at her finger, the blood smeared against it looking crimson and incriminating. Her heart pounded as her mind tried to think up a reasonable scenario, couldn't, and simply refused to admit what she was seeing.

Heart pounding, she brought the finger to her lips and brushed her tongue across it. She swallowed and whispered, "Bye, Kate."

The End

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