xanthefic | Fic: Two Masters

Two Masters
By Xanthe
Part Four

Blake stepped forward and pointed at the post. Tony flinched. Walter looked at him thoughtfully and then untied the strip of dark red cloth from around his forehead.

“Would you find it easier if I blindfolded you?” he asked. “Might make you relax more, so you can lose yourself in the sensation instead of worrying about how everyone’s looking at you. You can always take it off if you don’t like it.”

Tony nodded. He liked the idea. This way he could pretend…

“Don’t go there,” Walter said, as if reading his mind. “It’s not him, Tony. He's not here. Give Blake a chance.”

Tony nodded again, and Walter gave him a reassuring smile. He turned Tony around and tied the fabric over his eyes. The darkness was a welcome relief; Tony felt himself relaxing immediately.

He felt hands on his shirt, tugging it over his head – he didn’t know if that was Walter or Blake - and then he was stripped naked to his waist. It should have felt embarrassing, or stupid, but it didn’t. The blindfold helped, blocking out his view of the crowded club and the people watching.

Someone pushed him gently but firmly towards the post, and placed his hands on the two leather straps. They were high, and he had to stand close to the post, but he liked the way it felt. His body felt exposed and vulnerable. He wondered how he looked, standing here, arms outstretched, waiting…

~*~

The guy in the vestibule glanced up as Gibbs walked in.

"I'm sorry, sir, this is a members' only club. Do you have an invitation for this evening's event?" the man asked politely. Gibbs just glared at him. The man's expression became flustered. "Uh…well…invitations aren't completely necessary on the first Saturday of the month, as it's our big, themed, party evening, so…"

Gibbs raised an impatient eyebrow.

"Okay…but because it's our themed evening, we do ask that guests wear appropriate outfits for the theme – and you're not."

Gibbs opened his jacket, grabbed the handle of the whip which he'd tucked into his pants, and drew it out. The man glanced at it and then back at him.

"Well, it's a little unorthodox, but you seem to have the right…uh…credentials," he squawked. "If you'd like to go down…"

Gibbs pushed past him without saying a word.

~*~

Tony hung onto the leather straps for dear life, keeping his eyes tightly closed behind the blindfold. There was silence in the room, and then he heard a rustling sound. He tried to remember what Walter had told him. If he didn't like it, all he had to do was let go of the strap and raise his hand…

Something whistled past his ear, and he heard the sound of leather on skin but felt nothing…then the sensation kicked in a second or two later. It stung a little, but it didn’t really hurt. He wondered what kind of a flogger Blake was using and wished he'd looked before Walter had blindfolded him.

Another whistle, and the flogger fell on his shoulders again. He closed his eyes behind the blindfold, trying to lose himself in the sensation. Blake began flogging him harder and faster, and Tony could tell immediately that he was no Walter Skinner. The flogging wasn’t smooth – it felt a little clumsy, a little stop-start. Sometimes the flogger wrapped awkwardly around his waist, making him gasp, and that jerked him out of his headspace.

He wasn’t sure if he was enjoying it or not. It wasn’t an ordeal, but it wasn’t exactly pleasurable, either. He wished he knew how to reach that high that Fox had clearly been on. Maybe it took time, or practice - or maybe it took a different kind of dom to help get him there.

He wondered if this was how it was supposed to feel. If so, it was kind of disappointing. Maybe the issue of who was holding the whip mattered more than he'd expected. He wondered whether to raise his hand and bring it to an end. It wasn't hurting enough to give him the kind of cathartic satisfaction that came from pain, but it wasn't delivering any pleasure either.

So what the hell was the point?

~*~

Gibbs ran down the first set of stairs, reached a landing, turned a corner, and found himself at the top of a flight of stairs leading down into a bar area. He paused to gaze down on the scene below – and all the muscles in his body tensed up immediately in response.

He didn't see the people, or the bizarre clothes some of them were wearing, or anything else. He just saw Tony, stripped to the waist, wearing a pair of sinfully tight black leather pants that moulded to his ass, leaving nothing to the imagination. His body was pressed up against a whipping post, and there was a blindfold around his eyes. And behind him…behind him, some bastard was raising a flogger and preparing to lay a stroke on Tony's exposed back.

In that moment, Gibbs got his answer. Tony had forced his hand, flushed him into the open, and brought him to this crossroads. Gibbs knew that he was going to do this, and do it properly. Tony had given him eight years of silent devotion – now it was time to reward him.

His presence at the top of the stairs caused a stir, and people turned to stare – all except Tony, who was blindfolded - and the man flogging him, who was too engrossed in what he was doing.

Gibbs strode angrily down the stairs, and the crowd parted in front of him to let him through. He went up to the man flogging Tony and grabbed his outstretched arm, forcing him to pause in mid-swing. The guy turned, an angry expression on his face, but Gibbs just dug his fingers into the man's wrist until he gave a little whimper and backed down. Gibbs grabbed the flogger from his hand and threw it onto the floor with a disdainful flick of his fingers.

He saw Walter coming towards him and gazed at him stonily. Walter said a couple of quiet words to his rival, and the man melted back into the crowd. Gibbs turned towards Tony, who was still standing there, locked up in his own little world behind the blindfold. His back was a little pink, but clearly the flogging had just been in the warm-up stage.

Gibbs removed his jacket and handed it Walter.

"If he lets go of the strap and holds up his hand…" Walter began.

"I'll stop. I know." Gibbs nodded, unbuttoning his shirt sleeves and rolling them up to his elbows.

An expectant little buzz went up around the room. Gibbs ignored it. He hated performing to an audience, but Tony wanted to know what this was like, and he wasn't damn well going to disappoint him.

He flicked out the tail of the whip, turned back to where Tony was standing, waiting for him, and then raised his arm.

~*~

Tony was dimly aware that the room had gone quiet. He waited patiently, wondering if Blake was changing over to a different kind of whip, the way Walter had after he’d completed his warm up. He wrapped his hands more tightly around the leather straps and clung on for dear life, wondering what the hell was going to happen next.

The next stroke took him completely by surprise. It was definitely delivered by a different implement, but he had no idea what. It was like being stroked by a butter soft strip of leather, and it felt more like a caress than a whip lash. The next one was just as good. He relaxed against the post, opening up his shoulders for more.

Blake’s former clumsiness seemed to have disappeared. Now each stroke was expertly delivered and felt smooth, laid on with well-judged precision. The strokes started slow and predictable, warming his shoulders and back gently, and then the pace picked up. Tony gasped as the blows rained down faster, the tempo rising to a crescendo that took him to the very edge…and then slowly back down again, the pace decreasing.

Then it built up slowly once more. The strokes were harder now, and while Tony thought it might hurt later, when he came down, it didn’t hurt at the moment. It just felt good. His body was buzzing with endorphins, and he had to hold on tight to the leather straps, or he thought he might spin off into space.

His mind was hazy, floating away, and his entire body felt warm and relaxed. A little buzz was going around the room, and he was glad he couldn’t see the people watching him. Right here, right now, there was just him and the man standing behind him, rapping out this hard, beautiful, intoxicating rhythm on his bare skin.

The pace built up to another crescendo, and now it really was starting to hurt. Tony had no intention of raising his hand or stepping away though. This was between him and the man behind him. He felt as if they were dancing, or playing some piece of complicated music together, and he wasn’t going to be the one to break their invisible bond and bring it to an end.

He put his head back and yelled instead, allowing himself to really let go, the way Fox had let go. It felt so good, like punishment and pleasure all rolled into one. He thought of Jenny, and Gibbs, and Jeanne, and his whole damn stupid fuck-up of a life, and allowed the pain to wash it all away.

Soon, he could think of nothing except the savage kiss of the whip on his bare skin, and the commanding presence of the man behind him, making him take it. Then he was done. Spent. His arms felt heavy, and he hung from the leather straps, his head down, moaning softly to himself.

His tormentor seemed to sense that he'd had enough and the pace slowed and then stopped completely. He just dangled there, stupefied, completely out of it. He’d had no idea it could feel like this; that it could be so good, so intense, and so incredibly cathartic all at once.

He felt a hard body press up against his own, and he gave a hoarse shout as a cotton shirt rubbed against his deeply sensitised skin. Two hands closed over each of his, where they were still holding onto the leather straps for dear life. He knew that if he released his grasp he’d fall. His legs felt boneless – they couldn’t hold him up any more.

“You need to let go now, Tony,” a low, familiar voice said in his ear.

“Hmmm?” he gasped hazily.

“Let go. You’ll fall, but I’ve got you.”

He did as he was told, the way he always did when that voice gave him orders. He collapsed immediately, but a pair of strong hands held him up.

They stood there for a long while, until Tony got his breath back. White lights sparked behind his eyes in the darkness of the blindfold, and he was grateful for the support of that hard body against his own.

Then he was being moved, guided towards a chair. He sank onto it, relieved that he didn’t have to try and stand up any more. His body felt strange, disconnected, as if it didn't belong to him. It burned and ached, but it felt so incredibly good.

“Close your eyes – I’m going to remove the blindfold, and everything will seem too bright at first. Keep your eyes closed until you feel ready to open them,” that firm, authoritative voice said to him.

Tony tried to concentrate. There was something he should know, or maybe something he should say - something really obvious. He did as he was told anyway and closed his eyes. He felt fingers in his hair and then the blindfold was undone and removed.

“Keep them closed for a bit longer,” that voice said again. “And here - put your damn shirt on.”

He felt the shirt being slid over his head. His arms were guided into it, as if he was a child, and then the cool fabric settled against his warm, aching body.

“That's better. Can’t stand seeing all these damn idiots gawping at my sub’s body,” the voice said, in a possessive growl.

Tony’s eyes snapped open, and the room spun around him, seeming far too bright.

“Your sub?” Tony asked blearily, and at that exact same moment the room steadied, and he found himself looking into a pair of intense blue eyes.

“My sub,” Gibbs told him firmly. “Unless you’ve got any objections?” He raised an eyebrow.

Tony stared at him, completely and utterly bemused. He had no idea what was happening here. Where had Gibbs come from? What had happened to the other guy? Why was Gibbs looking at him like that? Had he just said…?

“No," he found himself replying. "No objections. Your sub.”

“Good.” Gibbs put his hand in his hair and gently smoothed it away from his sweaty forehead. Tony blinked at him in surprise; this wasn’t the Gibbs he knew so well.

Tony saw the long, soft whip in Gibbs’s hand and glanced back at the whipping post. He was suddenly overwhelmed by the memory of that breathtakingly intimate whipping.

“That…uh…that was you?”

Gibbs nodded. “Most of it. I took over from the idiot who doesn’t know one end of a whip from another. Don’t *ever* let another dom go near you again, Tony. Drives me nuts. Makes me want to kill people.”

“Wouldn’t have had to if I’d thought you were interested,” Tony muttered.

Gibbs slapped the back of his head. “Don’t be an idiot. Now, I’m gonna have a word with Walter, and then I’m taking you home.”

“Home?” Tony was still as high as a kite, and he wasn’t entirely sure what Gibbs meant by that.

“Home. My place. You’re coming back with me, so we can figure out exactly how this is going to work.”

Gibbs looked around to find Walter and then beckoned him over.

"That was quite an entrance," Walter said, with an amused little grin. "Glad you came to your senses in time, Jethro." Gibbs glared at him, and Tony winced.

Fox came over and crouched in front of him. "Hey – you back with us yet?" he asked, with a broad grin.

"Not yet." Tony grinned back at him, feeling hazy and happy despite his confusion over what the hell was going on. Walter and Gibbs were having some kind of tense, stand-off conversation, but Tony couldn't follow what they were saying. "What happened?" he asked Fox. "Where did Gibbs come from?"

Fox chuckled. "Oh, it was good – the best entertainment they've seen around here in a long time. There was you, stretched out half-naked against the post, and Blake…well, he's no Walter Skinner – or Jethro Gibbs, either, come to that." He gave a little wink. "Then Gibbs just appeared at the top of the stairs. Why the hell didn't you tell me the man is such a natural dom? No wonder you have the hots for him. He's not even dressed for the event, but nobody dared turn him away. I think Walter might have warned Hammer that he could be on his way."

Tony glanced up at Gibbs, to see that he was wearing his usual ensemble of jeans and a dark shirt over a white tee shirt. He looked just like he did every day at work – except for the whip dangling incongruously from his hand – the whip he'd just used so expertly on Tony.

"Did Walter give him that?" Tony asked.

Fox shook his head. "No – he was holding it when he came in."

"Gibbs owns a whip?" Tony frowned.

Fox laughed out loud. "Tony, I think you need to get your head around the fact that Gibbs isn't a novice at this. In fact, judging by that extremely expert whipping he just gave you, I'd say he's an old hand - and he's clearly been trained by the best."

"Walter?" Tony glanced up at the two doms again. Their body language was less strained now, but Gibbs still looked kind of pissed. Walter, on the other hand, was about the only person Tony had ever met who seemed unfazed by Gibbs's death stares. He was just standing there, arms folded across his chest, face impassive, as Gibbs talked to him in a low, gruff voice.

"Yeah. Walter. I have a feeling that Gibbs has played hardcore before – and I suspect that Walter was the one who taught him how. Although, I think Gibbs has been out of the game for awhile, judging by a few things Walter's said. Took you to tempt him back in."

"And he's pissed about that. Oh shit. He's gonna kill me," Tony sighed.

"Really? Looked to me more like he wanted to drag you back to his cave by the hair and fuck you into the ground," Fox replied, grinning again.

Tony closed his eyes and swallowed hard at that thought.

"You should have seen him when he first came in," Fox continued. "Keep your eyes closed, and let me paint the scene for you, because this was good. So, he's standing at the top of the stairs, and you…you're stretched out below, and then Gibbs sees you…and boy, the expression on his face – you're lucky you were blindfolded, Tony."

Tony gave a little moan; a pissed-off Gibbs was not a good thing. Fox laughed.

"I wasn't sure if he was gonna grab you and haul you the hell outta here, or stay and finish the whipping. I’m glad he chose to stay – that was one hell of a well-paced whipping and damn good to watch. You're lucky, Tony – you have a lot of those to look forward to."

Tony's eyes snapped open again. "You think?" he muttered feebly. Fox was still grinning at him.

"Oh yeah. You’ve been claimed, Tony. Welcome to your life as a sub."

"Is it too late to run?" Tony glanced around, looking for the exit.

"Oh, I don't think Gibbs is the kind of man you can run from." Fox laughed. Then he leaned forward, and spoke directly into Tony's ear. "I envy you, starting out like this. It's good – if you surrender to it, and don't fight it. I was an idiot – thought I could play Walter in the beginning. Thought I could hide from him. It didn’t work, and it caused us both a lot of pain until I got my head around the fact that I was his, and that was all I really wanted to be." He traced his fingers over a faded scar on his chest as he spoke.

"Christ, Fox…" Tony leaned forward and examined the scar in more detail. "That looks like…he didn't carve his initials into you, did he?" He glanced up at Walter, horrified.

"No." Fox shook his head. "He didn't. Someone else did – to hurt him – to hurt us both. Walter took care of me after, although God knows I didn't deserve it. I was an idiot, and I paid for it, but he stuck by me all the same and never gave up on me. This scar reminds me of that all the time – and the fact that he turned it into something good. Something positive came out of it, in the end."

"Think I'll be so lucky?" Tony asked, glancing up at Gibbs. Gibbs turned, and gazed at him at that exact same moment, and Tony flushed and looked away again, unable to meet his boss's eyes.

"You'll be fine," Fox replied. "Might be some bumps on the road but trust me, the journey will be worth it."

Gibbs finished talking to Walter and turned back towards Tony.

"Oh no…what the hell happens next?" Tony hissed.

Fox grinned. "Well, judging by the way he's looking at you, he's going to haul you off and show you exactly what belonging to Leroy Jethro Gibbs means. Good luck, Tony. You're going to need it!"

He gave a wide, knowing smile, patted Tony's head patronisingly, and then hopped back over to his master's side.

Gibbs crouched down in front of Tony, his gaze assessing. "You still flying?" he asked. "Or are you coming back down now?"

"A bit of both," Tony muttered.

"Think you can walk?"

Tony nodded.

"Good. Then let's go."

Gibbs stood back and watched as Tony got shakily to his feet. Gibbs put a hand under his elbow to steady him, and Tony held onto Gibbs's shoulder as the world swayed around him. Gibbs smelled good – and Tony was suddenly aware of how hard his muscles were beneath his fingers and how close he was. Close enough to… Gibbs's blue eyes were looking at him, as hard and unreadable as ever.

Tony released his grip on Gibbs's shoulder, stood up straight, and then took a couple of deep breaths. Gibbs furled up the long, soft whip in his hand, and Tony stared, unable to take his eyes off it. Gibbs picked up his jacket, hiding the whip beneath it, and then jerked his head at Tony. "Follow me," he said tersely, turning to go.

"Yes, Master," Tony muttered under his breath. Fox heard that and gave him a delighted smile and a thumbs up gesture. Tony made a face at him, and then he took his life in his hands and followed his new dom slowly out of the bar.

The cold night air was like a slap to his face, especially as he was so warm after the whipping. Tony shivered and wrapped his arms around his body. He ran after Gibbs, who was striding far ahead of him. Gibbs reached his car and got in, and Tony got in beside him.

There was silence. Tony grimaced.

"So…look…I was curious. I suppose Walter told you that I stole Commander Yates's card to get in there last night? I know that I'm in all kinds of trouble, but I was just…you didn't have to come down here and do that…I don't know what Walter said to you, but…"

Gibbs turned in his seat and shot him a dark stare. Tony trailed off.

"We'll talk when we get home," Gibbs told him.

"Right…only…I thought I should…"

"What did I just say?" Gibbs asked.

"Uh – that we'd talk when we got home?"

"So why are you still talking?"

Tony bit on his lip. This didn't look good. He nodded and fastened his seatbelt in silence.

The drive back to Gibbs's house seemed to take forever. Tony glanced sideways at his new dom every so often, to see if he could gauge his mood, but it seemed to be an even more intense version of Gibbs's usual 'very pissed off', so that didn't help. Tony wrapped his arms around his body even more tightly, for comfort as much as warmth.

He was both relieved and apprehensive when they reached Gibbs's house. Gibbs still didn't speak to him, and Tony followed on behind, wondering what the hell would happen next. Was Gibbs going to kick his ass for stealing the ID card and for making him go down to the bar to rescue Tony from his own insanity? Or was he going to throw him over the nearest hard surface and fuck him senseless?

What he actually did took Tony completely by surprise. He strode into the living room, turned to Tony, and said; "Take your shirt off."

Tony blinked. "Uh…Why? Back there you wanted me to put it on, and I'm kind of cold, so I’d prefer to keep it on now…"

Gibbs moved so fast that Tony didn't even see him coming. Suddenly he found himself staring into a pair of very close, very pissed off blue eyes.

"It's not a debate, DiNozzo. It's not a damn request, either! You’re my sub, and I just gave you an order. As you’re new I’ll explain it, but I don’t expect to explain myself in future. Back there, I wanted you to put the shirt on because I don't like anyone – and I mean *anyone* - ogling my sub's body. Now we're home, and you took a sound whipping tonight, so I want to see if your back is okay, or if it needs some attention. Now, I repeat – take your shirt off."

Tony swallowed hard and gave a silent nod. He took off the shirt, gingerly, aware that his back was hurting more now that he was cold and the high from the whipping was fading.

Gibbs put a hand on his arm and turned him around so that he could examine his back. Tony felt his cool fingers spidering across his skin, and he flushed. Gibbs didn’t usually touch him in this intimate way, so the caress made him acutely aware that their relationship had changed - radically. It also reminded him of the incredible intimacy of that whipping. He felt as if he’d shared something with Gibbs back there, something dark and powerful, something he wanted to taste again – and soon. Gibbs's fingers were firm but gentle. When he’d finished, he turned Tony around again.

"Skin wasn't broken. Nice to see I haven't lost my touch. You'll feel it more in the morning." He looked straight at Tony and gave a feral kind of smile. "How did it feel?" he asked, his blue eyes suddenly looking very intense. "Back there - my whip on your body. How did it feel? Was it good? Was it what you wanted?"

Tony swallowed down a moan. "No, it wasn't good," he said. Gibbs's eyes flashed. Tony grinned. "It was better than good – it was *incredible*. It was exactly what I wanted. But you know how it was - you were there."

Gibbs gave another one of those feral smiles, looking very pleased with himself. He reached out and brushed Tony's hair with his fingertips. "Yeah. I was there. I'd forgotten what that felt like. The power exchange. You got off on that too, didn't you, Tony? I could tell by the way you were breathing and those little moaning sounds you were making. You were all caught up in it. Felt like it was just you and me, despite all those damn onlookers."

Tony nodded, transfixed by the Gibbs standing in front of him. This new Gibbs seemed to understand the darkness of Tony's desires and be only too happy to fulfil them for him.

"I want more," Tony whispered, his gaze never leaving Gibbs's blue eyes. "Will you give me that? Please? I need it, Gibbs."

"Being whipped?" Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. Please. And anything else you want to hand out."

"Anything?" Gibbs asked dangerously.

"Anything."

Gibbs gazed at him for a long time, as if assessing exactly what he meant by that, and then he nodded, and his fingers tangled in Tony's hair again, smoothing it.

"I can do that," he said softly.

The moment passed, and he drew back, glanced down, and frowned. He slid his fingers carefully over the right side of Tony’s torso, and Tony took a sharp intake of breath. He looked down to see some grazed bruising that he hadn't realised was there.

"Wrap marks," Gibbs growled. "But not from my damn whip – must have been that goddamn amateur who got there before me."

He looked furious, and Tony winced at his tone. Gibbs stalked out of the room, muttering a few curses under his breath as he went. Tony wondered whether he was supposed to stay here or follow. He felt really stupid standing here, half-naked, in these ridiculously tight leather pants.

Gibbs returned a second later with a tube of some kind of ointment. He smeared some on his fingers and then touched them gently to Tony’s bruising and rubbed the ointment in.

"Nobody ever touches you again – got that?"

"Uh…I guess," Tony replied, with a shrug.

"No – that's not good enough," Gibbs snapped. "Nobody touches you again – do you understand?"

"Yes. I understand." Tony nodded.

"Good." Gibbs exhaled a deep breath. "Damn it. I knew this would happen. Walter has no idea how I get when I…" He broke off. Tony raised an eyebrow. "When I have a sub," Gibbs finished.

"So you've done this before?" Tony asked quietly. His stomach did a little flip as he wondered who Gibbs had been with before him. Who had he whipped with those expert hands of his? Who had he caressed with that narrow strip of leather? One of his ex-wives? Someone at work? Jenny…?

"Yes, Tony, I've done this before. You haven't though. And I wanted to keep it that way," Gibbs grunted.

"Why?" Tony reached for his shirt again.

"Because I don't think you have any idea what you're letting yourself in for."

Gibbs snatched the shirt out of his hand and tossed it onto the nearby couch. Then he put his hand in Tony's hair and thrust him up against the wall. Tony went, feeling like a rabbit trapped by a wolf.

"I didn't tell you that you could put the shirt back on," Gibbs hissed. His face was close to Tony’s, and he was more intimidating and intense than Tony had ever seen him in their working lives – and that was saying something.

"Uh…I…just thought…" Tony began.

"No. That's just it." Gibbs put a finger over his mouth. Tony swallowed hard. "I don't want you to think. This isn't work, Tony. There are a different set of rules for you to follow here."

Tony groaned. "Not more rules, Boss…"

"Ssh." Gibbs shook the fistful of hair he was holding, and Tony twisted in his grasp. Gibbs pressed his hard body against Tony's semi-naked one. He opened Tony's legs with his knee and pushed up against him, so that their groins were touching. Tony felt himself go hard immediately. Gibbs grinned at him. "That’s a good start. You're my sub now, Tony. In the morning, we're going to talk about exactly what that means, but for now it's late, I'm tired, and you're barely standing. Just understand one thing: your ass belongs to me now."

"Always did, Boss," Tony muttered weakly.

"Well now that's going to take on a whole new meaning."

Gibbs tightened his grasp on Tony's hair, pulled his head forward, and kissed him, hard, on the mouth. Tony gasped, surprised by the unexpected move. Gibbs opened Tony’s lips expertly with his own and slid his tongue between them. Tony let him in, relaxing in his grip. He couldn't move – he was pressed up against the wall by Gibbs’s strong body, and Gibbs's hand was in his hair, holding him tightly in place.

It wasn't so much a kiss as a statement of intent. Gibbs left Tony in no doubt about who was in charge and what was expected of him. It was dangerous, but that made it all the more thrilling. Gibbs demanded control, insisting that Tony yield totally to him, and Tony gave him everything he asked for. Gibbs continued to kiss him long past the point of Tony's surrender, and Tony hung there, shocked and dazed, as Gibbs claimed him with his mouth.

When Gibbs finally released him, Tony just stared at him, too stunned to speak. If he’d had any doubts about Gibbs truly intending to take him as his sub, they disappeared in that instant.

"Looks like we've found a way of shutting you up." Gibbs grinned, patting Tony's cheek affectionately. "One way at least. I have several more. Now – it's late, and you're in no fit state to have the conversation we need to have right now. Follow me."

Tony did as he was told, following on in a haze as Gibbs walked up the stairs. His jaw ached from that raw, powerful kiss, his head stung from where Gibbs had grasped his hair, and his back was sore, but he felt like he was walking on air.

Gibbs grabbed a small, single mattress from one of the other bedrooms, and dragged it along the hallway. He threw it into the main bedroom, and then he threw some blankets and a pillow on top of it.

"You'll sleep there tonight," he ordered. “Where I can keep an eye on you.”

Tony felt a stab of disappointment. "Don't I get to sleep in the bed with you?"

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Who the hell do you think you are? My fifth wife? You're my sub, Tony, and you'll sleep on the floor until I decide I want you in my bed."

Tony was too tired to argue, and he had a feeling that wasn't a good idea anyway. He peeled himself out of his leather pants, so he was just wearing his boxers, and threw himself down onto the makeshift bed on the floor. He was suddenly exhausted and wanted nothing more than to fall into the welcome oblivion of a deep sleep. He stretched out on his stomach and rested his chin on the back of his arm.

Gibbs disappeared into the en-suite bathroom and returned with a bottle of some kind of green gel. He crouched down next to Tony and applied the gel to Tony's back. Tony gave a little yelp as the cold liquid descended on his warm skin.

"You'll thank me for it in the morning," Gibbs chuckled, as he carefully worked the icy gel into Tony’s tender flesh. "You might be sore for a few days, but I think it was worth it. Yes?"

"Hmmm?" Tony blinked up at him.

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Forget it. Sleep."

Tony barely heard him. He closed his eyes and was aware of the blanket being pulled up over his body. Then he felt a hand gently smooth his hair.

"Good night, boy," Gibbs said softly. Tony leaned into that gently caressing hand, and he heard a sad little sigh. "Damn you, Tony," Gibbs whispered. "You are going to be far too easy to love."

~*~

Gibbs walked slowly back downstairs. He made himself some coffee and went to sit down in the living room. Tony's shirt was still on the back of the couch where he'd thrown it. Gibbs picked it up and inhaled the scent of it, remembering how it had felt to hold Tony against the wall and kiss him. It had been so long since he'd last had a sub that he'd forgotten just how good it felt to have an eager body pressing up against him. He'd forgotten how much it turned him on to dominate a willing partner and feel them submit to him.

He longed to get started on Tony – to strip him naked, explore him body and soul, and make him his own, but he was aware that Tony was a novice. It was like building a boat. You couldn't rush it; you had to start slow and put in the long hours of loving hard work before it started to take shape.

With the pleasures came the responsibilities - and Gibbs was all too well aware of those. He had never trained a sub from scratch before; Jenny had been his initiation into this world, and she'd shown him what she wanted and, in headstrong Jenny style, had moved on when she'd got what she needed from him. Stan had been more steadfast, but he had already been an experienced sub when he and Gibbs first played. Tony was different – and Gibbs wanted to make sure he did this right. He couldn’t afford to screw this up.

Gibbs finished his coffee, grabbed a couple of garbage sacks, and went back upstairs to the spare room. He opened up the wooden trunk in his closet and emptied the contents into the sacks. He wasn't sure why he'd kept this stuff for all these years anyway, but he didn't need it any more. He intended to make a fresh start with Tony; the only thing he'd keep was the whip he'd used tonight to give Tony his first ever whipping. Everything else could go. He didn’t want any reminders of the past. Tony was his blank slate.

He placed the whip in the trunk and took the sacks of garbage downstairs. The act of clearing out made him feel strangely liberated from the past. This wasn't going to be a repeat of Stan, or Jenny, or any of his ex-wives. This was going to be different. Walter had told him to keep Tony, and, after getting a taste of his submission during that long, sweet kiss, Gibbs intended to do just that.

He was about to head back upstairs to the bedroom when he hesitated and turned to the basement instead. He ran down the stairs, went over to his work bench, and opened up the top drawer. Inside was a large, brown envelope. Gibbs drew it out, threw it down on top of the work bench, and then hesitated again. He remembered when Ziva had first joined his team, how she'd come to his basement one evening, holding this envelope.

"You asked me about the dossier I made on you," she said. He glanced at the envelope and shrugged.

"Keep it. I trust you." He turned back to his boat, signalling that the conversation was over. She didn't leave.

"This is not that dossier," she told him. He glanced at her over his shoulder, eyebrows raised. "As you know, I did dossiers on all of you," she said. "You and all of your team."

"I know that. So?" He climbed down off the boat again, gazing at her intently.

"Mossad dossiers are very different to NCIS personnel files. We dig far deeper and go back further. We do a full psychological profile."

"Okay." He frowned at her, wondering where this was going.

"There were only two real items of note in the dossiers I did on your team. What happened to your first wife and daughter was one."

His jaw tightened in annoyance.

"And then there was this. I thought you would like to see the dossier, in case you were not already aware of its contents." She held it out, but he made no move to take it. He just stared at her. "Uh…" she faltered, arm still outstretched."This is…this is by way of letting you know that you can trust me. That I am on your team now, and that I answer to you."

"You sure as hell do," he snapped, still glaring at her.

"I thought…have I got something wrong?" she asked, looking confused.

"I don't spy on members of my team, Ziva!"

"I am sorry. My intention was good. I felt this was information you might like to know. Maybe you know it already, but if not, then I think you should be aware of it, as the team leader. It is an area of potential weakness…it could be used against him…in a psychologically pressured situation…"

"Ziva, we aren't Mossad!" he told her sharply. "We spend most of our time investigating crimes, and I am fully confident of the ability of all the members of my team to do just that."

"Sometimes your work requires more…" she began. He quelled her with a look. "I understand." She withdrew her hand and turned to go.

"Leave it," he ordered. She turned, a question in her eyes. "The dossier – leave it here. I don't want it falling into the wrong hands."

She nodded, her dark hair falling over her face. She offered the brown envelope to him again, but he just jerked his head, tersely, in the direction of the work bench. She placed it there and turned to go once more.

"Ziva."

She paused and stood there, waiting, her back still turned to him.

"I don't know what's in this dossier, but whatever the hell it is I don't expect you to mention its contents again – not to me or to anyone else. Whatever you know, I want you to forget it. Understood?"

She glanced at him over her shoulder. "Understood," she said quietly.

He watched as she left the basement, and then he returned to his boat. Only when he'd finished for the night a few hours later, did he finally turn back to his work bench and look at the envelope lying there.

Who was it, he wondered? Which member of his team had something in his past that Mossad felt left him open to exploitation? Ducky? McGee? Tony? Hell – Jimmy? Not Abby – Ziva had said 'he'.

He threw down his hammer, went over to the workbench, and picked up the dossier. There was no name on the outside. He opened the envelope and pulled out the file inside. It was bulky – but then he had no doubt that Mossad's research methods were extremely thorough. He didn't open the file – he just turned it over, saw the picture attached to the front, and felt that muscle in his jaw twitch again.

Of all the people on his team, this was the one person he hadn't wanted it to be, but also the person who surprised him the least. He shoved the dossier back in the envelope without looking at it and then stowed it away at the back of his workbench drawer, behind a couple of old paint brushes.

That had been over three years ago, and he hadn’t touched it since. Now, Gibbs stared down at the envelope, and then he opened it and drew out the file again. Tony smiled up at him from the picture attached to the front.

Gibbs gazed at it for a long time. He had known Tony was hiding something ever since he'd first met him. Ziva seemed to think that it was some kind of weakness that could be exploited by someone who didn't have Tony's best interests at heart. Tony was Gibbs's sub now, and the last thing Gibbs wanted to do was unwittingly trigger something for him. If he knew what the dangers were in advance, then he could avoid them.

Gibbs returned the dossier to the envelope and threw it back in the drawer. Whatever was in that file, he'd give Tony a chance to talk to him about it first. It might take awhile, but Gibbs would prefer to hear it from Tony than read about it in a Mossad dossier. He'd keep the file as a last resort and hope that he never had to open it. He was Tony’s dom; he wanted Tony to trust him and reading up on him wasn’t the best way of going about it. He'd only consider looking at that file if he thought Tony's safety and wellbeing were at stake.

Gibbs left the basement and walked back up the stairs. He undressed in the bathroom and then went silently into the bedroom. Tony was lying where he'd left him, in a messy heap on the mattress on the floor. One of his arms was flung out, and the blanket was scrunched up around his thighs. Gibbs crouched down beside him and pulled the blanket back up so that it was covering him. Then he sat back on his haunches and looked down on his sleeping sub.

"You're mine now, Tony," he said softly. "I just hope you're ready to find out exactly what that means."

~*~

End of part four
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Two Masters - Part Five