Hiding in Plain Sight: 19/21
Oct. 26th, 2008 06:18 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xantheficTitle: Hiding in Plain Sight: Part Nineteen
Author: Xanthe
Fandom: SGA/NCIS crossover
Pairings: Gibbs/DiNozzo, John/Rodney, Carson/Caldwell, Teyla/Ronon, Ziva/McGee, and some other pairings that would spoil the story if I revealed them. Gibbs/Ducky friendship.
Rating: NC17 for explicit BDSM sex (m/m slash, femslash and het) and spanking.
Author's Notes
Summary: When a serial killer murders three marines on Atlantis, NCIS are called in to investigate. However, their arrival brings complications for everyone – revealing a lie, a prophecy, a secret and a nemesis.
Part Nineteen: “Et tu, Ducky?”
Hiding in Plain Sight
By Xanthe
Part Nineteen
Gibbs wasn’t used to R&R. At least back home he could work on his boat but out here, on Atlantis, he had a lot of time on his hands and not much to occupy it. So he spent the day doing what he did best – working.
He read through all his agents’ reports and filed them in a box in the smaller of the two lounges which he was now using as an evidence room. There were other boxes there too – all neatly labelled and filled with various bags of evidence. Gibbs wouldn’t be entirely happy until he got them signed in back at NCIS and they ceased to be his responsibility. They had taken a lot of stuff from Jordan’s quarters, including the P-90 he’d used to shoot Tim. Gibbs went through it all to make sure it had been properly tagged and catalogued.
He broke off to go and visit Tony at lunchtime. He took Tony some clothes, in preparation for his release from the infirmary the following day, and took him on their regular stroll down to the south pier. Then Gibbs dropped him back into Carson’s capable hands - although not before Tony had tried to talk him into getting him released a day early - and returned to his quarters to continue his inventory.
He was still working when Ducky dropped by late in the afternoon.
“You know what they say about all work and no play, Jethro,” Ducky commented, standing in the doorway.
“It makes Jethro a bastard?” he asked, looking up. “Because that’s what I usually get called.”
“Well, I’m fairly sure nobody ever called you dull,” Ducky chuckled. “That’s the way the saying usually goes.”
“I just wanted to make sure this was all exactly the way I like it,” Gibbs said, gesturing with his head at the boxes.
“Jethro, we’ve been working with you for many years – we know the way you like it done,” Ducky told him gently. “Was any of it done incorrectly?”
“Nope.” Gibbs shook his head. “But I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t check,” he added.
Ducky laughed, and then his expression changed. “Can we talk?” he asked softly. “It’s not about work – it’s personal.”
Gibbs gazed at him for a long moment, and then sighed. “Et tu, Ducky?” he said, spreading his arms in a gesture of despair.
Ducky gave him a sad little smile in return, then turned and led the way back to the main living room. Gibbs followed him, his gut tightening. This never got any easier – and this one, this was the one he had always known would hurt the most.
Ducky sat down at the dining table and pushed a warm cup of coffee in his direction, claiming a cup of tea for himself.
“Jethro, we both know that I’ve hidden behind your collar for far too long,” Ducky said. Gibbs took a sip of coffee, and gazed at his old friend.
“Yeah, I know,” he muttered.
“Fourteen years to be precise,” Ducky added. “I don’t suppose that any of us thought it would be this long when you fastened that strip of shirt around my neck all those years ago.”
“I guess not.” Gibbs shook his head. “Has it really been that long? Damn that makes me feel old. But he was always out there, Ducky, sending you those threatening letters, calling you, even until fairly recently. It never felt safe for you to take the collar off while he was alive, did it?”
“No. It didn’t.” Ducky shook his head. “And to be honest, I loved wearing it. I was always very proud to be your collared sub, Jethro.”
“But you aren’t a sub at all, Ducky. You’re a switch,” Gibbs pointed out. “And I’ve always respected that. Didn’t really understand it, but respected it.”
“I know,” Ducky chuckled. “I can’t say I’ve done a very good job of understanding it myself. Maybe I’m more of a sub than I like to admit – after all, I wore Randolph’s collar for twenty-five years and yours for fourteen.”
“And now you get a chance to explore who you really are,” Gibbs said. “How are things going with Woolsey?”
“He’s a charming man,” Ducky replied, and he looked younger and more animated than Gibbs could remember seeing him in a long time. “We’re neither of us at an age or of an inclination where we think of sharing plates and buckling on marriage belts and all that kind of thing, but it’s been good for both of us I think.”
“If anyone can help someone like him then it’s you,” Gibbs said. He didn’t know Woolsey that well but he knew a sub who had escaped a bullying top when he saw one.
“Yes, I have rather been there, done that,” Ducky replied, with a wry shake of his head.
“And when we go back home? What happens then?”
“Well we've only known each other a short time so we decided we wouldn’t expect too much of each other at this stage. If he wants to see other tops then that’s fine by me, and the same goes for me too, if a sub or top takes my fancy. However... he is intending to make a trip back to Earth regularly – this IOA committee want him to report in person on a monthly basis from now on. We can meet up then. He’s also said I’m welcome to spend vacation time on Atlantis so we can stay in touch and see how it goes. I’ll be thinking of retiring in a few years so who knows what I’ll decide to do then. There are worse places to retire to than the Pegasus galaxy!”
“It’s a long way to come for a visit, Ducky,” Gibbs pointed out.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll find a way, Jethro,” Ducky replied. “You always do, you know.”
“Yeah.” Gibbs took another sip of his coffee. He wasn’t great at dealing with his own emotions, he knew that, and this was tough.
“But my dear boy, I wouldn’t leave you in the lurch,” Ducky said. “You have been the best and truest friend a man could ask for. If you want me to keep the collar then I will.”
“No, Duck.” Gibbs shook his head. “Jordan’s dead, and he was always the main reason for you wearing it. It’s done its job. Like you said, I never intended to keep any of you for good when I first collared you.”
“No, indeed!” Ducky chuckled. “But you did a good job, Jethro. You saved us in various ways – all of us – and now you’re setting us free. You’re a man of honour, my friend.”
He got up, went over to where Gibbs was sitting, and knelt in front of him. “You put it there, Jethro,” he said softly. “I would very much like you to be the one to remove it.”
Gibbs reached out, and touched the plain black collar. Jordan had been right when he said they were cheap – Gibbs had bought them for a few dollars at Walmart. However, the sentiment behind them had never been cheap, and he knew his subs had understood that.
He pulled blindly on the buckle, wondering whether his eyesight had deteriorated overnight because he was having trouble seeing. He felt Ducky’s fingers gently cover his own and they opened the buckle together. Gibbs pulled the collar and it fell into his hand. He threw it onto the table and blinked, and his vision cleared. He wiped his hand across his eyes and was surprised when it came away wet. Ducky stood up.
“Thank you, my friend,” he said.
"Bye Ducky," Gibbs whispered hoarsely.
"Goodbye, Jethro." Ducky put a hand on Gibbs's shoulder and squeezed.
“This place must be jinxed or something,” Gibbs said, with a rueful shake of his head. “I had a whole fistful of collared subs when I arrived but now not one of ‘em is wearing my collar.”
“Well, technically speaking, that’s not entirely true,” Ducky pointed out. “Neither Tony nor you removed his collar, so legally and, I dare say, emotionally, his status remains rather undecided, doesn’t it?”
“Ah, hell. Tony doesn’t need saving any more than the rest of you now,” Gibbs said. “He’s grown up a lot lately.”
“You’re quite right; he doesn’t need saving any more,” Ducky agreed.
“So I guess I’m all out of people to save now,” Gibbs sighed.
“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, Jethro,” Ducky said quietly. “There’s still one more person.”
“Who?” Gibbs looked up at him, surprised.
“You, my dear boy,” Ducky murmured. “You.” He bent his head and kissed Gibbs’s hair before straightening up. “You deserve to be happy. Be as kind to yourself as you’ve been to all of us, Jethro - you’re worth it."
"Am I?" Gibbs looked up, straight into Ducky's eyes. "I couldn't save them, Ducky," he said hoarsely. "Shannon and Kelly. Protecting them was my job and I didn't do it. So why the hell do I deserve to be happy?"
Ducky took his face in his hands and held it firmly. "Oh Jethro. Is that what all this has been about? All these years? Oh my dear boy. No wonder you've been saving people ever since. Jethro - listen to me. Of *course* you deserve some happiness. You're a good man. You've always been a good man. What happened to Shannon and Kelly wasn't your fault. What happened to Tony, Tim and Abby wasn't your fault either. Now let it go, my dear boy. You must let it go - and that's not a suggestion, Jethro. It's an order." He bestowed a gentle kiss on Gibbs's forehead, and then released him. Gibbs raised an eyebrow.
"You giving me orders now, Ducky?"
"Yes, my dear boy - I am." Ducky gave a little smile. “And as for Tony's collar - there is another reason for collaring a sub apart from saving him, you know, Jethro."
“There is?” Gibbs raised an eyebrow. “Like what, Ducky?”
“Love, Jethro,” Ducky told him softly. “Love.”
He stroked Gibbs’s arm one last time, and then he turned and left.
Gibbs sat there for a moment, staring at where his last collared sub had been, feeling numb. He felt wetness on his cheeks and raised his arm angrily to wipe it away. He wasn’t used to this kind of emotion and had no idea what to do with it.
He found himself getting up and going back to the evidence room. He searched through the boxes until he found what he was looking for, and then he slammed the data stick into his laptop and watched.
The camera was fixed into position, so there were no fancy angles. He saw himself, standing on the south pier, looking out at the ocean. Tony was beside him. That much was what he remembered. Then Tony turned and walked away from him, towards Tim and Ziva, saying something. He was a good few feet away from him now. Tim pointed upwards, at a bird flying overhead, and at the same time gunshots rang out. Tony turned, so fast he was a blur, and flung himself on Gibbs. Gibbs remembered feeling all his breath leave his body as he went down; Tony was no lightweight. It had taken him a few seconds to get his breath back and by then Tony had turned, shielding Gibbs’s body with his own, and was reaching for his gun to start firing back, while gazing anxiously over at where Tim was lying on the ground, blood streaming from the wound on his arm.
Gibbs paused there, and then rewound and watched it again. Then again. Then, finally, he paused on it. Jordan had been right - Tony’s love for him had been right under his nose the whole time and on some level he'd even been aware of that – he’d just chosen not to acknowledge it. Then Jordan had hit him in the face with it and now - now what? He loved all the time he'd been spending with Tony recently, sharing little bits of himself, letting Tony in, just a little way. His heart knew what it wanted even if he was stubborn bastard enough to still try and resist. Maybe he'd been locked up inside this prison of grief and recrimination for so long that he had become comfortable inside it - and maybe Ducky was right; maybe it was time to give himself a break.
He got up, went into the bedroom, picked up his backpack and took out the little box he found in there. He walked out to the balcony and stood there, watching as the sun went down over the ocean, painting the sky in various shades of reds and golds as it sank down towards the horizon.
“Save myself?” he muttered, shaking his head. “If it was that easy I’d have done it years ago.”
He opened up the box and let Shannon’s collar ripple through his fingers. Tony was right too – he always had been a stubborn bastard, even as a little kid, and he still was. Maybe it wasn’t always a virtue though. Fifteen years was a long time to grieve. She wasn’t ever coming back; maybe it was finally time to let her go.
He picked up the collar and kissed it, one last time.
“Goodbye, Shannon,” he whispered, and then he raised his arm and threw the collar out, far out into the distance. He watched as it cleared the city’s gleaming turrets and landed in the ocean, where it sank immediately.
He wasn’t sure what he felt. Relief? Sadness? Maybe a bit of both. He did know what he had to do next though.
He strode down to General Sheppard’s quarters, and knocked on the door. The general opened it, a surprised look on his face.
“I need a favour,” Gibbs said.
~*~
Tony stood by the open door, glaring at Carson.
“If you’re releasing me then I don’t see why I can’t just go,” he said, through gritted teeth.
“And as I’ve told you a dozen times, son, I’m only releasing you when Gibbs arrives and signs you out,” Carson told him.
Tony narrowed his eyes, and pointed at his throat. “Do you *see* a collar around this neck, Carson? Huh? No. That’s because there isn’t one. So I don’t need any damn top to sign me out.”
Carson’s blue eyes, which he’d once thought avuncular and genial but had since come to realise were steely and no-nonsense, just gazed at him steadily.
“Son, don’t play semantics with me,” he said firmly. “I was there – I saw how that collar was removed.”
Tony bit on his lip; he hated being reminded of that.
“Now, you and Agent Gibbs might have some unfinished business to sort out but you have to respect the man for not just snapping a collar back on you while you were recuperating from being tortured and damn near raped and murdered!” Carson said, his eyes flashing. “You never, ever collar a sub without their consent, and he’s waited until you’re well enough to give full, informed consent, without the influence of pain meds or anything else. He’s acted like your top, and done everything a good top would do. He barely left your bedside those first few days, and he’s visited you every single damn day since. He’s been with you every step of the way through all the hard times - when you were screaming, when you had nightmares, when you were throwing up and when you were in pain, so don’t give me any bullshit about him not being your top.”
“Fine.” Tony threw himself down on the chair by the door and gazed up at the ceiling. He knew Carson was right but he’d been waiting longingly for this day and he was disappointed Gibbs hadn’t come by straight after breakfast to pick him up.
The last time he’d seen his boss had been yesterday lunchtime when Gibbs had stopped by to take him for their regular walk to the south pier and to bring him some clothes, but then he’d gone back to work. Although what the hell work there was to do when the case had been wrapped up days ago was beyond Tony.
“Guy needs to get out more,” he muttered to himself as he sat there, long legs draped over the arms of the chair. Gibbs had brought him his favourite pair of faded denim jeans and his black shirt. He’d even brought him his tan coloured Timberlands. How Gibbs knew these clothes were his favourites Tony didn’t know, but they were.
It had felt so good to actually get dressed this morning. The bruising on his face had completely gone, and his shoulders and back no longer gave him any pain – the marks there would soon fade, hopefully without any permanent scarring.
He suspected that Carson had kept him in the infirmary for longer than was strictly necessary but he also knew the reason why. At times during his stay there Tony had seen, reflected in the doctor's eyes, the memory of what Carson had witnessed that day Jordan had tortured him. It was a forcible reminder that he wasn’t the only one who’d been traumatised by what had happened in that room. Tony knew that was why Carson wanted to make sure he had done everything in his power to restore Tony to full health before he would release him.
He also knew that they were all worried about his psychological state; he’d run rings around Dr Heightmeyer until Gibbs had stepped in and mercifully put the poor woman out of her misery by removing him from her patient list. As therapy had failed, Tony suspected that another reason Carson had kept him so long was to make sure he had come to terms with what had happened to him, and wasn’t a suicide risk.
“Damn overprotective tops,” Tony muttered under his breath, although he knew he wouldn’t have it any other way. He glanced at his watch to find that it was nearly noon. Gibbs was doing this to torture him, he was sure of it; just another of the little toppy tricks in Gibbs’s extensive arsenal.
Tony knew he was using petulance to hide his own anxiety. The whole collar thing would have to be resolved soon, one way or the other, and while he dreaded the conversation he knew it had to happen and he longed to get it out of the way.
“Worse than waiting for a hard punishment spanking,” he murmured, moving his head from side to side to loosen the tension in his neck. “Hate being kept waiting for the big ones.”
Carson, who was sitting on the side of one of the now empty beds, writing up notes on his chart, chuckled at that one.
“Relax son. I’m sure Gibbs will be here soon.”
“You don’t know Gibbs,” Tony said sourly. “This is his idea of fun. Trust me. And Carson – you can’t be more than three or four years older than me so what’s with the ‘son’ thing?”
“Son, this is my infirmary and I view every single one of my patients as my subs while they’re here, to be cared for to the utmost of my ability,” Carson told him.
“Really? That explains a lot,” Tony muttered.
“Aye – so my patients are ‘son’, or ‘lad’, or ‘lass’ to me, regardless of age, status or orientation,” Carson grinned.
“I’d love to see Gibbs in here as your patient then.” Tony fantasised about that idly for a few seconds.
“Please – don’t wish that on me,” Carson replied, in mock terror. “You’ve turned my hair grey all by yourself – he’d make me go white overnight.”
“Oh your hair isn’t grey, Doc,” Tony grinned, gazing at Carson’s sleek black hair. “It’s kind of a weird style, all pointy on top like that, but it’s not grey.”
Carson glared at him.
“Uh…did I say ‘weird’? That wasn’t the word I meant to use,” Tony said hurriedly.
“Did you open your mouth without engaging your brain again, DiNozzo?” a dry voice asked by the door. Gibbs had appeared, as usual, from nowhere, without making a sound.
“Yes boss, sorry boss,” Tony said. “Thank god you’re here, boss! And what the hell took you so long?” he added.
Gibbs grinned at him. “Impatient to be let out, DiNozzo?”
Tony made a face at him. Gibbs turned to Carson.
“Doc, you deserve a medal for putting up with him for so long,” he said.
“I can’t pretend it’s been easy,” Carson replied with a heartfelt sigh. “And I can’t say that I’m not a very happy man to have him signed out of my custody. Thank god he’s not going to be my responsibility any more. It’ll take me weeks to whip those nurses back into shape – he’s a terrible influence with that smart mouth of his and all his sneaking around, leading impressionable staff astray.”
“Tell me about it. I’ve had to put up with it for years,” Gibbs grinned.
“I’m standing right here,” Tony pointed out.
Carson handed Gibbs a sheet of paper, grinning broadly as he did so. Gibbs glanced at it, and then signed it with a terse flourish of his hand and gave the paper back to Carson.
“So now you are officially free, Tony,” Carson said. “And don't think you're the only one celebrating that news."
“Thanks doc,” Tony said, moving his hips in a little freedom dance. He grabbed Carson and kissed his cheek. “You’ve been great – kinda scary, but great.”
Gibbs rolled his eyes, shook Carson’s hand, and then led the way out of the room and into the main infirmary. Tony high-fived his favourite nurses on the way out. His body felt loose, healthy and relaxed and he was suddenly full of good spirits. He was free!
“DiNozzo!” Gibbs snapped, from over by the door. Tony finished doing a little celebratory lap around the infirmary and chased after his boss – Gibbs hated to be kept waiting.
He followed Gibbs along the hallways, back towards their quarters.
“So…if we asked nicely would Sheppard fly us around in one of those cool little spaceships?” he said, as they walked. “Abby says Lorne takes her all over the place - of course he’s a pilot which helps. I want to get out there and see things before we have to go home, boss. I mean, this is a completely different planet! Okay, so there seems to be a distinct lack of nightlife but I’m sure we can jazz things up, hold a few parties – right, boss?”
Gibbs glanced at him over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised.
“Or not,” Tony said, running to catch up.
They got back to their quarters and Tony felt a rush of déjà vu as they walked inside. He paused, and gazed around.
“Feels kind of strange to be back here, boss,” he murmured. “Last time I was here we were having that discussion about Jordan, and then we set off for that meeting…and man, that feels like a long time ago, boss. The room’s different.”
The investigator in him noticed that the place was tidier than it had been when he was last here – and emptier. Six people living together in a suite of rooms meant that there was always lots of stuff lying around – cups, shoes, files, PDAs, laptops, books…but there was little of that now.
What there was, lying on the dining table, was a plain black collar. Tony stiffened.
Gibbs turned, and saw where he was looking.
“Problem Tony?” he asked.
Tony took a deep breath. Now that the moment had come he knew what he had to do. He hadn’t been sure before but now they were here, and the collar was in front of him, it all seemed clear.
He went over to the table and picked up the collar, caressing the soft leather gently with his thumb.
“I liked how this felt around my throat,” he said quietly, gazing at Gibbs. “It’s all warm, and snug, and comfortable. I liked the way other subs looked at me when they knew I was wearing your collar – I liked that a lot. I liked how tops would chat me up, then back off when they met you and realised it was your collar I was wearing. I liked that it protected me, that you protected me from self-destructing by putting it on me. I liked all those things.”
He raised the collar to his nose, and inhaled the smell of the leather.
“But I can’t wear it again,” he said, looking straight at his boss.
Gibbs gave a little nod. “I understand,” he said.
“Not because I don’t want to – because you have no idea how tempting it is,” Tony said. Now he wasn’t hiding any more, because his cover had been blown several days ago, in a dank room at the bottom of a derelict tower on an alien world. Now he was the Tony DiNozzo he didn’t let anyone see very often because growing up he’d learned it was better to let people think he was a shallow rich kid who played the fool than to allow them to get close enough to hurt him.
“But, tempting though it is, the conditions that come with wearing your collar are too hard,” Tony said. “Last time around I thought I could handle it, and for a long time I could. I can’t do it any more though. It’d be selling myself short and I’ve been doing that my entire life. It’s time to find something real, instead of hanging on hoping for something that’s never gonna happen.”
Gibbs gave a little shake of his head. “I told Ducky you didn’t need saving any more,” he said. “I was right. You’ve come a long way, Tony.”
“Thanks boss.” Tony gave a little nod of his head, meaning it. Gibbs’s praise had always been important to him and he didn’t think that would ever change. “I still love the job – I still want to work with you, if you’ll have me,” he said.
“Think you can handle that? Working with me and not wearing my collar?” Gibbs asked.
“Maybe not. We’ll see,” Tony said thoughtfully. “So…” He glanced around the room. “I suppose this is goodbye. I’ll just grab my stuff – I’ll go ask Woolsey if I can be reassigned to some different quarters – I’m sure you won’t want me around, getting underfoot, now I’m not collared.”
He put the collar down, regretfully, on the table and then walked over to where his boss was standing.
“Should say thank you, boss – for everything,” he said. “I think we both know I wouldn’t still be alive today if you hadn’t put that collar on me back then. I’d have done something stupid, pissed off the wrong people, and been found lying in an alley with a bullet in my brain one dark night.”
“Yeah – I think you would,” Gibbs agreed, with a wry smile.
“Bye boss.” Tony put out a hand and patted Gibbs’s arm. He didn’t want to think about how good it felt to touch the man – that part of his life was over. He had to move on.
“Bye Tony,” Gibbs said, those sharp blue eyes of his betraying nothing.
Tony sighed, and walked over to his bedroom to collect his things. He had hoped for something more – a tear might be too much to ask for but perhaps some sign that Gibbs actually cared about losing him.
“Tony.” He paused as Gibbs said his name. “The collar on the table wasn’t yours,” Gibbs said. “It was Ducky’s.”
Tony turned, frowning. “You took Ducky’s collar off him?” he asked, bemused.
“We took it off together,” Gibbs said. “It was time, and it was what he wanted – what he needed.”
“Wow. Never thought that would happen.”
“He didn’t need saving any more than you do now,” Gibbs said softly. “I wasn’t going to offer you your old collar back, Tony.”
“Oh.” Tony felt a bit deflated by that.
“I was going to offer you a new one,” Gibbs said.
Tony frowned. Gibbs reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a little bag. He opened it, carefully fished out what was in it, and held it up. Tony gave a startled whistle. Gibbs was holding a beautiful collar made of two different kinds of gold, entwined together in strong, chunky links, one a warm red colour and the other shinier and almost silver in hue. At intervals there were smooth, solid, golden rectangles, shaped a little like abstract padlocks. It was sharp and classy – understated but an object of beauty.
“That looks expensive,” he murmured.
“It was,” Gibbs said. “I bought it from an Athosian craftsman on the mainland. That’s why I was late picking you up from the infirmary this morning. I had a very definite idea of what I wanted, you see. John Sheppard flew me over there last night and I told the Athosian guy how I wanted it to look and he said he’d work on it overnight and have it ready for me today. The different colours are new gold and old gold, linked together. I liked that.”
Tony moved closer, his heart beating a little too fast. He held out his hand and Gibbs dropped the collar into it. Up close, it was even more beautiful. He had never seen a collar like this – it was completely and utterly unique. He ran his fingers over the smooth metal and then glanced up at Gibbs.
“This collar – does it come with any conditions?” he asked. “Last one did.”
Gibbs shook his head. “No. This one is a little more traditional. This one isn’t about rescuing you, or saving you from yourself. This one…this one’s just about loving you," he said softly.
Tony stared at him. He’d never thought he’d hear anything like that from Gibbs’s lips. Gibbs leaned in close, and whispered into his ear.
“You wear this, I’ll want full body rights from you, DiNozzo,” he said, in a tone that went straight to Tony’s cock. “You’ll be mine – in the bedroom, at work, everywhere. Not for a year, or five years, but until the day you die. So think about it, Tony…think about it very carefully.”
Tony could feel the gold warming up between his fingers. He gazed at the collar for a long time, and then shook his head, and handed it back.
“See, thing is, I don’t think I can share,” he said. “I’ll happily belong to you but I’ll need you to belong to me too and that’s not going to happen while you have a bunch of other subs hanging from your leash.”
“No sharing,” Gibbs told him. “There are no other subs.”
“Abby?” Tony asked. Gibbs shook his head. “Ziva and Tim?” Tony said, bemused. Gibbs shook his head again. “What the hell happened while I was in the infirmary?” Tony grumbled. “I come back here and everything’s changed.”
“Everything *has* changed, Tony,” Gibbs told him. “Everything. You accept this collar and I promise you that I won’t collar any other sub. To be honest, I think I’ll have my hands too full to even think about it," he added with a wry grin.
“What about your first spouse?” Tony asked. “I respect her place in your life but I won’t compete with a ghost – and I’m guessing that’s why all your other relationships failed.”
“You guess right,” Gibbs agreed. “But this time it won’t be a problem, Tony.”
“How do I know that?”
“Because I haven’t been in love with anyone since Shannon – but I'm in love you.”
Gibbs wasn’t a hearts and flowers kind of man but he had always been direct and to the point. Tony doubted he’d ever get any big speeches but he would get simple statements of truth, and that was enough for him.
“Think about it, Tony,” Gibbs said, placing the collar back in his hand and closing his fingers around it. “No need to rush into anything. Take your time.”
He turned and went out onto the balcony, leaving Tony alone in the room. Tony sat down at the table and gazed at the collar in his hand, hardly able to believe that this was happening to him. What would it be like to be Gibbs's properly collared sub, he wondered? Different to the past five years, that was for sure. He wondered what it would feel like to give full body rights to the man standing out there. He’d never given body rights to any top in his life before, and the thought of it both thrilled and scared him.
All the same, he was a sub to his bones, as he had said many times before, and he had always wanted to find a top to match him. If anyone was that top it was Gibbs. He rolled the collar over in his hand, and that was when he saw the engraving, in copperplate letters, on one of the gold padlocks: Leroy Jethro Gibbs.
If he accepted this collar he’d belong to this man and wear his name around his neck so everyone could see who had collared him. He turned over the chain and saw the engraving on the other side – just one word, but it made his heart skip a beat: Beloved.
He got up and went out onto the balcony. Gibbs didn’t turn around – he just kept gazing out at the ocean.
“The answer’s no,” Tony said. Gibbs turned, his eyes flashing, and Tony laughed. “Don’t be an idiot,” he said. “Like the answer was ever going to be anything other than yes.”
Gibbs’s hand connected, resoundingly, with the back of his head and Tony grinned and winced at the same time. He handed the collar back to Gibbs.
“You sure about this, Tony?” Gibbs asked. “Because before I put this on you there’s some stuff you should know.”
Tony frowned. “What kind of stuff?”
“I’m a demanding top,” Gibbs began. Tony laughed out loud.
“You don’t say? And five years working with you would have given me the idea you’re a pussycat how?” he asked.
“Ex-spouses all said the same thing,” Gibbs shrugged. “They all said I’m unreasonable, stubborn, obsessed with my work, and a whole lot of other things.”
“Oh they just didn’t know how to handle you,” Tony said confidently.
“And you think you do?” Gibbs raised a challenging eyebrow. Tony grinned at him.
“Oh yeah,” he said. “But, while we’re on the subject – are you sure about this too? I’m not an easy sub to top. I have issues.”
It was Gibbs’s turn to laugh. “I’ve handled your issues for five years, Tony. I think I have them all figured out.”
“I have trust issues,” Tony said, counting that one off on his fingers. Gibbs gazed at him speculatively.
“You trust me?” he asked.
“With my life,” Tony answered, with a firm nod.
“Then that’s not a problem. Next?”
“I have commitment issues,” Tony pointed out.
“Tony, you haven’t slept with a top in five years and all because I put my collar on you. I don’t think we need to worry about the commitment issues, do you?” Gibbs asked.
“I guess not,” Tony said, with a little grin. “I have daddy issues,” he continued, counting that one off on his fingers. Gibbs laughed again.
“You think, DiNozzo?” He rolled his eyes expressively. “Do I look like your father, Tony?”
“Hell no!”
“Do I act like your father, Tony?”
“Never,” Tony said, shaking his head.
“Then I don’t think that’ll be a problem, do you?” Gibbs raised an eyebrow.
“Depends,” Tony said, in a more thoughtful tone. “I know you like your JD but do you ever get drunk?”
Gibbs shifted a little, gazing at him searchingly. “Sometimes,” he said.
“That’s fine – I get drunk too, sometimes. Thing is…when you get drunk, I’ll be sleeping on the couch. And those full body rights? They won’t apply when you’re drunk. Just so we’re clear.”
Gibbs nodded thoughtfully. “We’re clear, Tony, and that sounds fine and reasonable to me.”
“And if you ever hit me while you’re drunk then I’ll hit you right back, then take off the collar and you won’t ever see me again,” Tony continued, in a deadly serious tone.
Gibbs’s expression darkened. “Hey - I don’t *ever* abuse subs – drunk or sober,” he said. “Got that?”
“Yeah. I got it.” Tony nodded. “Sorry. Just had to be clear.”
Gibbs nodded. “You were, Tony. I get it – and I understand.”
Tony looked at him for a long time and Gibbs looked back as they got the measure of each other, not as boss and subordinate any more but as potential lovers and life partners. They both had their demons but Tony thought they were demons they could slay if they tried.
“So, if we’re agreed that we’re both a nightmare to take on…” Tony sank down on his knees, and gazed up at Gibbs. “Would you please collar me, boss?” he asked.
“Jethro,” Gibbs corrected him. “I’m not collaring you as your boss. I’m collaring you as your top.”
Tony nodded. “Please collar me, Jethro,” he said. He had thought that it would feel strange, using Gibbs’s first name for the first time, but it didn’t. It felt totally natural.
Gibbs looked down at him for a moment, the sun glinting off the golden collar in his hand. Then he moved around, so he was standing behind Tony, the back of Tony’s head pressing against his groin. Tony put his head right back, and gazed up at him. Trust Gibbs to manoeuvre him into a position of such abject surrender, neck exposed as he looked up and behind him.
Gibbs stroked his throat, fingertips sending spikes of electricity through Tony’s body. He knelt there, facing out to sea, arms behind his back, head back, throat naked…waiting. Gibbs undid the collar, and Tony closed his eyes and offered up his neck to his top.
Tony felt the gold links of the collar slide around his neck as easily as if he’d been wearing it for years. He heard a little click and then the collar was in place. He took a deep breath, and opened his eyes again. He was a collared sub. Gibbs’s collared sub. Gibbs’s *only* collared sub…and he had a sudden realisation of all that might entail.
On collaring, a sub gave themselves to their top, totally and completely. By accepting a top’s collar they agreed to all the demands a top might make on their body, and consented to submit and surrender to whatever their top wanted to do to them. His body now belonged, in the most basic way, to Leroy Jethro Gibbs – and that was a good thought and a scary thought at one and the same time.
Gibbs seemed to read those thoughts.
“I’ve never given a sub a safe word in my life and I’m not about to start now,” Gibbs told him.
“I didn’t think for a second you would,” Tony replied. “I’m guessing that’s the way you’ve always liked to play.”
“Oh, I don’t play, Tony,” Gibbs said, a feral smile on his lips. “I don’t play, I don’t do scenes, and I don’t use toys.”
“What’s wrong with toys?” Tony asked, surprised. Most tops used toys and most subs liked it; he certainly did.
“I don’t need ‘em,” Gibbs said. “If there’s something you particularly like I’m happy to do it for you occasionally, but it’s not my thing. I’m sexually dominant, Tony, and trust me, I’ll be able to dominate you just fine without using any toys.”
Tony had no doubt at all that that was true. “So…no cock rings?” he risked asking.
Gibbs circled him, one hand on his shoulder. “If I ask you to hold it, I expect you to hold it without help,” he whispered into Tony’s ear. Tony’s cock gave a little lurch for freedom at the tone of his voice.
“Nipple clamps?” Tony asked, his mouth going dry. Gibbs’s fingers slid across the front of his shirt, found his nipples, and pinched, hard. Tony swallowed back a yelp.
“That’s what my fingers are for,” Gibbs told him.
“Cuffs? Everyone needs cuffs, surely?” Tony croaked.
Gibbs slid his hands down Tony’s shoulders, gathered his wrists in a vice-like grip, and held his hands behind his back. “Feel like you can escape?” he asked.
“No,” Tony whispered, his cock now hard as iron, pressing painfully against the front of his jeans. “What about butt plugs, or dildos?” he dared to ask, his voice sounding more like a squeak to his own ears.
Gibbs leaned forward, and spoke straight into his ear. “And what’s wrong with my hard cock up your ass?” he asked.
“Oh, nothing,” Tony said, wondering if he’d died and gone to heaven. “Nothing at all.”
“Good.” Gibbs’s warm breath ghosted over his ear, making him shiver.
“You’ve got a strap though – and a paddle,” Tony pointed out. “I’ve been on the receiving end of those more times than I can count. And there’s that damn cane you keep in your basement - you’ve used that on me a few times, although admittedly only when I really screwed up – and, hey, what about that switch you had me cut for you that time when we working that case in Shenandoah National Park?”
“Oh they’re not toys – they’re tools of the trade, and with you they’re a necessity,” Gibbs said, a dangerous kind of smile in his voice. “I’m also an expert with a flogger, the bullwhip and, my personal favourite, the single-tailed whip. Even so, most of the time all you’ll feel is the flat of my hand on your bare ass, Tony.”
“And given how hard your hand is I’m guessing it’s pretty much all you need,” Tony sighed.
“Usually works,” Gibbs agreed.
He put a hand under Tony’s elbow and drew him up to his feet, then pulled Tony’s arm, turning him around so he was facing him. Then he stepped in close – too close - so close that Tony could feel his shirt brushing against him, and the warmth of his body. Gibbs was looking at Tony like he was prey and it felt strange, after all these years of being the one doing the hunting, to suddenly have the tables turned and be hunted instead.
“So,” Tony said, trying to get some control back. “It’s, what, about just after one? I’m thinking you were planning on some lunch, maybe followed by a walk – it’s a nice day out there.”
Gibbs grinned at him, his blue eyes so close and so intense that Tony wanted to back away – only to find he was rooted to the spot by that mesmerising stare.
“Oh no.” Gibbs shook his head. “Oh no, Tony. You’ve been propositioning me just about every day for five years and today’s the day you get to deliver. I’ve been waiting a long time for this and I don’t care what time of the damn day it is. You’re mine and I’m going to take you. Right now.”
“Okay.” Tony swallowed hard. “See, you think that’s scaring me but really it’s just turning me on.”
“Actually, it’s doing both,” Gibbs said confidently.
He took hold of Tony’s hand and led him to the bedroom and Tony went, feeling as if his legs were made of jello. This had been such a long time coming that it seemed hard to believe the moment was finally here.
“Five years is kind of a long time,” Tony said, as Gibbs pulled him into the bedroom. “Be gentle with me, boss.”
Gibbs laughed out loud. “Oh, I don’t think so, Tony,” he said. “And Tony – if you ever call me ‘boss’ in the bedroom again, I’ll spank your ass until they can see it glowing from outer space.”
“Right. Jethro. Okay.” Tony nodded nervously.
Gibbs took off his jacket and Tony watched him, transfixed. Gibbs was wearing a plain black shirt and black pants beneath the black jacket – his sexiest ensemble and one Tony had always found pretty hot - not least the big, shiny gleaming buckle of his belt. Gibbs threw the jacket over the armchair and then turned towards him, undoing his shirt sleeves as he walked. Tony took a step back, and then another – that predatory look in Gibbs’s eyes was unnerving.
“So it’s been five years for me but how long for you?” Tony asked, trying to coax some normality back into Gibbs's hungry eyes, freaked out by just how single-minded Gibbs looked right now.
“Awhile – but not as long as that."
“I knew it!” Tony said. “It’s Ducky isn’t it? I knew you and he…ummf”
He shut up as Gibbs pushed him against the wall and placed a hand over his mouth.
“And this is why I don’t need a gag, either,” Gibbs told him with a grin. “And also - this.” He removed his hand but only to replace it with his mouth. Tony sighed and was glad of the wall now, holding him up, as Gibbs kissed him on the lips for the first time.
It wasn’t anything like what he had fantasised about – it was so much better. Gibbs’s mouth was determined and expert, Gibbs’s body was pressed up close against his, pinning him in place, and Gibbs’s tongue was ruthlessly efficient at opening him up and gaining an entrance he was all too happy to allow.
As he kissed him, Gibbs ran his hands down Tony’s arms, reached his wrists, grasped them firmly in his own, and pushed them up over Tony’s head. Now he leaned in even closer, his body firm and solid against Tony’s, his leg pressed between Tony’s legs, their groins touching. He held Tony’s hands in his own, keeping them pressed against the wall, and Tony had just the briefest flash of realisation that Gibbs hadn’t been kidding when he said he would dominate Tony without the need for toys. Gibbs could wield his personality, his hard body, and the sheer force of his iron determination like deadly weapons in the battle for his sub’s total surrender.
Tony was happy to give him that surrender. He relaxed beneath the kiss, allowing Gibbs to take control, giving it all up to him. His body started to unwind as he trusted Gibbs to hold him there, against the wall. Gibbs would keep him up. Gibbs owned his body now – all he had to do was give in.
This wasn’t like any kind of foreplay he’d experienced before and Tony had another realisation that he was in the presence of a master top here. Teasing and playing were out of the question; Gibbs would demand nothing less than everything he had, and he hoped he wouldn’t disappoint the man. This wasn’t a scene, and Tony wouldn’t be able to flirt and wheedle his way through it to get what he wanted. He would have to take whatever Gibbs wanted to do to him and that thought was more arousing than he’d have imagined possible.
Gibbs finished kissing him and drew back, and Tony was about to say something glib to diffuse the sheer intensity of the situation when next thing he knew he’d been flipped around, as easy as anything, and he was now facing the wall, head angled to one side. Gibbs pushed his hands up the wall, his own hands covering Tony's, and leaned in close.
“Stop fighting me,” he whispered in Tony’s ear.
“I’m not!” Tony protested.
“Stop thinking, stop second guessing me, and stop trying to have control. Just give in.” He kissed the back of Tony’s neck, making him shiver, and all the time he kept Tony pinned there, against the wall, his hands flat on Tony’s hands, utterly unmovable even if Tony had wanted to struggle – which he didn’t. Gibbs’s body was heavy on his own and he could feel his top’s hard cock pressed against his buttocks.
Gibbs continued kissing the sensitive spot between his new collar and his hairline, and Tony sighed, loving the way it felt to have such a dominant partner pinning him against the wall. Gibbs moved his head and nibbled the tip of Tony’s earlobe affectionately, then bit a little harder. Tony gave a little yowl and Gibbs sucked the abused tip of flesh, warming and soothing it.
Then he pulled Tony around again, and, wrapping one hand in Tony’s hair to keep him in place he used his other hand to rip down the front of Tony’s shirt, sending buttons flying.
“Hey…favourite shirt!” Tony protested.
“I know,” Gibbs said. “But it was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He flashed Tony another one of those feral grins and flipped him again, pulling him free of the shirt at the exact same time. He flung the shirt on the chair without missing a beat.
Tony had never been undressed so expertly in his entire life. He wondered where Gibbs had learned this particular skill but before he had time to think about it Gibbs was back on him, one hand planted square in the centre of his back, pushing him against the wall again, face first, and the other tangled up in his hair, making it impossible to move.
He felt Gibbs’s mouth on his shoulders, and then gently teasing the healing wounds on his back.
“This hurt?” Gibbs asked softly.
“No,” Tony replied honestly.
“Good. You tell me if it does. I never want to hurt you by accident – only by design.”
Tony shivered because that sounded both good and bad and he liked that particular combination all too well.
Gibbs was like an octopus, Tony thought, because he was sure the man had more than two hands. It certainly felt that way; he seemed to have one hand on his fly and another tangled in his hair, and he was sure he could feel more hands all over his body but maybe that was just his imagination. Gibbs undid his belt and fly, and next thing he knew his jeans were pooled around his ankles.
Gibbs pulled him away from the wall and then flipped him around and pushed him so that he landed expertly on the bed, jeans tangled up in his Timberlands. Tony reached down to try and untangle them and found his hand seized in a firm grip, and then thrust firmly back over his head.
“See, thing is,” Gibbs told him, leaning over him, that feral look still in his eyes, “I don’t like seeing anyone else’s hands on my sub except my own – and that includes yours.”
Tony gazed at him, wide-eyed. “You don’t want me to touch myself, Jethro?” he asked. “What - ever?”
“Not when I’m touching you,” Gibbs replied. “When I’m not you can do what you like, but when you’re in bed with me your body is mine and I’m the only one who gets to touch it. I’m a little possessive that way.”
“A little?” Tony rolled his eyes. Gibbs grinned.
“You’ll get used to it.”
Tony sank back down on the bed, thumping his head on the pillow. He felt Gibbs’s fingers make short work of the laces on his boots and then they were gone, and so were his socks. His jeans followed suit, leaving him completely naked save for the collar around his neck. He was aware of his hard cock standing almost flat against his belly, seriously turned on by what was happening to him.
“Now that is a good look for you,” Gibbs said, standing over him, looking down.
“One of us is overdressed for this particular party,” Tony said, reaching up and getting as far as Gibbs’s shiny silver belt buckle before his questing fingers were pushed away.
“And another thing you’ll have to learn about me,” Gibbs told him, sitting down on the bed beside him, still holding his hand firmly between his fingers, pressing it back into the mattress. “I really like to be in control.”
“I kind of knew that one already,” Tony said, making a face.
“Then stop trying to take it back,” Gibbs said tersely. “Because this is the first and most important lesson that you’re going to learn, and you’re going to learn it today, even if it takes us all day and all night to get the message home. You’re mine now, boy. You belong to me, body and soul, and submission isn’t optional – it’s mandatory.”
Tony barely had time to process what that might really mean before Gibbs’s mouth was on top of his again, claiming another deep kiss. He loved being naked and exposed, bare skin pressed up against the cool cotton of Gibbs’s shirt, and he loved the taste of Gibbs on his lips. Gibbs’s scent was one of coffee and leather and sawdust – even after weeks away from his beloved boat he still had the faint scent of the woodshed about him. All of those were mingled with good, honest sweat, and it turned Tony on. He lay there and just accepted the kiss, welcoming Gibbs’s deep, probing tongue and the weight of the man as he leaned on him, pinning him into the mattress.
Gibbs was a tall, solid man, but Tony probably had an inch on him in height and several more pounds in weight. Even so, Tony didn’t doubt for a moment that Gibbs could keep him pinned down without any problem at all, by sheer force of will if nothing else. He had finally found a top who could really *top* him, without him having to pretend. He had no safe word, and he knew the only way Gibbs would stop was if Tony removed his collar – and if did that, he was pretty sure Gibbs would never allow him to have it back.
He didn’t want to remove his collar though – he liked the thrill it gave him to be this naked and vulnerable under his top’s expert caresses. It was the kind of thrill he’d been looking for all his life and never experienced before. He had no doubt that Gibbs would keep his word and that by the end of this day he would have learned how to find the true submission he’d always longed for; he also suspected it might not be an easy lesson to learn.
“Close your eyes, Tony,” Gibbs said, and Tony obeyed him instantly. He felt the mattress shift and Gibbs get up, and then heard some jerky sounds which he suspected might be Gibbs getting undressed. Finally, he heard the nightstand drawer being opened and he shivered, suspecting his top was getting out lube. He was startled by a sharp tap on his head, and his eyes flew open.
“See, you’re still not getting it,” Gibbs told him. “You don’t want to be thinking about what I’m doing – you don't need to be thinking at all. All that you should be doing is submitting. Never mind – I’ll get you there, one way or another.”
That sounded kind of ominous but Tony couldn’t focus on analysing it because Gibbs was standing next to him…and - oh shit - he was completely naked. Gibbs had seen him naked before, several times, but Tony had never had that pleasure where Gibbs was concerned. Now he took his time, almost inhaling the sight of his top.
Gibbs might be fifteen years older than him but years in the Marines and NCIS had kept him fit and toned. There wasn’t an ounce of spare flesh on him and his stomach was washboard trim. He had a smattering of silver curls on his broad chest, firm shoulders, and biceps that were toned but not overly muscled. He had long, lean legs which led up to…Tony gave a satisfied sigh. He wasn’t obsessed with size but he was pleased that Gibbs was bigger than average. His cock was hard, as hard as Tony’s, and almost as vertical right now, curving up pleasingly from a thatch of wiry dark hair.
“Like what you see, Tony?” Gibbs asked, in an amused tone.
“Uh…yes, boss…sorry, Jethro…” Tony stammered, unable to take his eyes off his top’s naked body. He wondered what Gibbs’s ass looked like – it always seemed nice and peachy when he’d followed it into the elevator numerous times back at NCIS, and he hoped he’d get a good look at it if Gibbs would only turn around.
“Good…because from where I’m standing you look pretty fine too,” Gibbs said, and that predatory look was back in his eyes again. “Now, this is where we find out who you are, Tony.”
“We do?” Tony asked, frowning. “Because I thought we were having sex.”
“Yeah, we are,” Gibbs chuckled. “But I’ve waited a long time for a sub like you, Tony – one with something to really give up, and I’ll make you give it up – I’ll make you give everything up to me. You ready for that?”
“Uh…I'm not sure,” Tony squeaked.
“It’ll be sweet, taking you to that place,” Gibbs said, sitting down on the bed beside him. “I won’t stop until you’re there, Tony. Might be a long hard ride but we’ll get there. It’ll be nice not to have to hold back, nice knowing you can take everything I throw at you.”
“You know this how?” Tony asked, feeling seriously scared by whatever was about to happen next. Gibbs smiled, and stroked a dangerous fingertip down his chest, pausing to squeeze his fingers around Tony’s right nipple, eliciting a hoarse shout from his sub.
“Because I know you, Tony,” Gibbs whispered, moving his head close so his mouth was right by Tony’s ear. “And I’m about to get to know you a whole lot better.”
He was on the move again, covering Tony’s body with sweeping movements of his hands, seemingly in every place at once. Tony put his head back, feeling his new collar clink satisfyingly around his throat and the sweat start to trickle down his body.
He heard the pop of the lube cap being removed, and then his legs were pushed apart, and cool, slick lubricant was being slid into his body on the tip of Gibbs’s index finger.
“Relax…we have a long way to go yet,” Gibbs told him, finger working in deeper.
“Like I said…been a long time,” Tony sighed, trying to loosen up. He guessed it was like riding a bike and you never forgot but five years was one hell of a wait. “Maybe Jordan was right – maybe I am virginal again,” he joked, and the next minute he wished he hadn’t, as Gibbs’s hand slammed down beside his head and Gibbs’s blue eyes came into view, looking really pissed off.
“Don’t say his name to me,” Gibbs growled. “You’re mine…I don’t want to think of his filthy hands groping you, his thieving fingers taking your collar from you, his damn tongue on your body – on *my* sub’s body.”
Tony gazed up at him, realising, perhaps for the first time, that while Gibbs might not show his emotions often, they were as strong as you might expect from a top as powerful as him.
“Hey…easy,” Tony said softly. “I didn’t mean anything by it. He’s gone, Jethro – he’s dead now. He paid for what he did to me – you made him pay, remember?”
The intensity flared in Gibbs’s eyes for a moment and then faded, and he stroked his hand gently through Tony’s hair.
“Nearly lost you, Tony…and it damn near killed me,” he said, by way, Tony suspected, of apology. He felt oddly affected by Gibbs’s obvious distress – Gibbs had told him he loved him but this was the first time he’d really seen the depth of his top's feelings and it was strangely comforting. “Having to stand there and watch,” Gibbs whispered, his voice choking. “Watching him touch you, hurt you, and half kill you.”
“But I’m fine now,” Tony soothed. Gibbs continued stroking his hair, and then dipped his head and claimed a sweet, tender kiss from Tony’s mouth. This was unlike his previous kisses, which had been raw and commanding – this was a kiss of comfort; for himself as much as for his sub, Tony suspected.
Then that side of Gibbs disappeared, almost instantly, to be replaced by the dangerous, feral top again. He slid another finger into Tony’s ass and Tony sighed and relaxed, opening up his body easily. This was easy – Tony loved being fucked, and knew he was going to love it even more if Gibbs was the one doing the fucking.
“What did you say about trusting me?” Gibbs whispered, fingers exploring deep into Tony’s body.
“Trust you with my life, Jethro,” Tony replied, feeling hazy as another finger slipped in. Oh god this was good.
Gibbs finger-fucked him for a few minutes until Tony was boneless and relaxed on the bed. His cock was still hard against his belly but he had a feeling he wouldn’t be coming any time soon so he just enjoyed the sensation without trying to push towards orgasm. He thought Gibbs would probably deny him his climax as a punishment if he tried to do that in any case.
Then Gibbs removed his fingers, and Tony gave a soft moan of protest.
“Ssh…I’ve been patient for long enough, Tony DiNozzo. Time I claimed you now,” Gibbs told him, in a low, throaty growl of a voice.
He pushed Tony’s legs open, rested them on his shoulders, and then settled down comfortably between them.
Tony gazed up at the ceiling, clenching the sheets in his fingers in anticipation of what was coming.
“Look at me, Tony,” Gibbs ordered, and Tony looked down to see Gibbs gazing at him. “I want you to keep looking at me while I take you,” Gibbs told him. “Don’t take your eyes off me.”
He spread Tony’s buttocks with his hands, and then pressed his hard, lubed cock into Tony’s entrance. He went slowly, and Tony hissed as he breached the ring of muscle and then slid in, deeper, inching his way in. There was a momentary familiar burn, and then Gibbs was inside him, pushing further.
Gibbs adjusted his position, and then, without warning, he thrust in deep, with one big shove of his hips, and at the same time propelled his body forward so that his hands were on either side of Tony’s head, and his body was completely covering Tony’s body, chest against chest, Tony’s cock trapped between their bellies. Gibbs’s eyes were now only a few inches away from Tony’s, and that searching gaze seemed unbearably close.
Gibbs shifted a little, manoeuvring himself into a more comfortable position, and then he thrust in again, right up to the hilt.
Tony had expected to be fucked into the mattress, to be taken fast and hard until he was screaming out his top’s name – but that didn’t happen. All that happened was that Gibbs rested a considerable amount of his body weight on Tony, pushing his hard cock as deep inside him as it was possible to go, and then he stayed there, totally covering Tony with his body, arms resting on either side of Tony’s head.
It felt too close, too intense, and Tony shifted, trying to ease the many different aches in his body, and move away from Gibbs’s searching gaze.
“No, Tony - take it,” Gibbs told him.
Tony stared up at him. Was this some kind of test? How long could Gibbs hold it, he wondered? The man was good but he was only human – how long could he stay this hard without thrusting?
“In case you’re wondering, and I think you are…I can hold it for as long as it takes,” Gibbs told him.
“As long as what takes?” Tony panted, wriggling slightly. Gibbs took hold of Tony’s head between his hands, and held him still.
“I said take it,” he repeated. “I’ll know when we’re done.”
Tony felt as if time had stopped still as he lay there, on his back on the bed, his long legs resting, bent, on Gibbs’s shoulders, his top’s hard cock lodged deep inside him, and Gibbs’s weight on his chest, holding him down. He couldn’t move – he was totally trapped there.
He felt the sweat begin to pour off him. His ass felt as if it had been stretched wide open by the force and weight of his top, and the angle of penetration was so deep that all he could feel was Gibbs’s hard cock inside him, pulsing deep within his body. He longed for the release of Gibbs moving his hips back, even if only for a second and even if he thrust straight back in again, but that didn’t happen.
Instead, Gibbs began to rock gently, which served only to make it feel like his cock was penetrating even deeper into Tony’s body.
“Oh shit,” Tony said, trying to wriggle sideways again – anything to escape the intensity of what was happening.
“Give it up to me, Tony,” Gibbs said. He was holding Tony’s head in his hands, and his thumbs gently stroked over Tony’s cheeks.
“I can’t do this…please…you have to let me up,” Tony begged. Gibbs shook his head.
“Not going to happen,” he said.
Tony had never safe-worded out of a scene in his life but this wasn’t a scene and he was suddenly very aware that he didn’t have a safe-word. Gibbs was going to make him take this and he had no choice but to surrender.
His body ached from being held down, his hole felt stretched as wide as it would go, and he was having a hard time adjusting to the depth of this penetration. He’d been fucked in this position before, but never *pinned*, and held down, and nobody had ever found this particular angle before. He guessed that it was partly because Gibbs’s cock was a good length and breadth, but it was also the precision of the entry. Gibbs had known exactly what he was aiming for when he’d pushed into Tony, and Tony couldn’t help but feel a healthy respect for any top this skilled. Now he really understood why Gibbs felt he didn’t need toys – why would he, when he could work a sub this expertly with just his own body?
End of Part Nineteen
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Hiding in Plain Sight: Part Twenty
Author: Xanthe
Fandom: SGA/NCIS crossover
Pairings: Gibbs/DiNozzo, John/Rodney, Carson/Caldwell, Teyla/Ronon, Ziva/McGee, and some other pairings that would spoil the story if I revealed them. Gibbs/Ducky friendship.
Rating: NC17 for explicit BDSM sex (m/m slash, femslash and het) and spanking.
Author's Notes
Summary: When a serial killer murders three marines on Atlantis, NCIS are called in to investigate. However, their arrival brings complications for everyone – revealing a lie, a prophecy, a secret and a nemesis.
Part Nineteen: “Et tu, Ducky?”
Hiding in Plain Sight
By Xanthe
Part Nineteen
Gibbs wasn’t used to R&R. At least back home he could work on his boat but out here, on Atlantis, he had a lot of time on his hands and not much to occupy it. So he spent the day doing what he did best – working.
He read through all his agents’ reports and filed them in a box in the smaller of the two lounges which he was now using as an evidence room. There were other boxes there too – all neatly labelled and filled with various bags of evidence. Gibbs wouldn’t be entirely happy until he got them signed in back at NCIS and they ceased to be his responsibility. They had taken a lot of stuff from Jordan’s quarters, including the P-90 he’d used to shoot Tim. Gibbs went through it all to make sure it had been properly tagged and catalogued.
He broke off to go and visit Tony at lunchtime. He took Tony some clothes, in preparation for his release from the infirmary the following day, and took him on their regular stroll down to the south pier. Then Gibbs dropped him back into Carson’s capable hands - although not before Tony had tried to talk him into getting him released a day early - and returned to his quarters to continue his inventory.
He was still working when Ducky dropped by late in the afternoon.
“You know what they say about all work and no play, Jethro,” Ducky commented, standing in the doorway.
“It makes Jethro a bastard?” he asked, looking up. “Because that’s what I usually get called.”
“Well, I’m fairly sure nobody ever called you dull,” Ducky chuckled. “That’s the way the saying usually goes.”
“I just wanted to make sure this was all exactly the way I like it,” Gibbs said, gesturing with his head at the boxes.
“Jethro, we’ve been working with you for many years – we know the way you like it done,” Ducky told him gently. “Was any of it done incorrectly?”
“Nope.” Gibbs shook his head. “But I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t check,” he added.
Ducky laughed, and then his expression changed. “Can we talk?” he asked softly. “It’s not about work – it’s personal.”
Gibbs gazed at him for a long moment, and then sighed. “Et tu, Ducky?” he said, spreading his arms in a gesture of despair.
Ducky gave him a sad little smile in return, then turned and led the way back to the main living room. Gibbs followed him, his gut tightening. This never got any easier – and this one, this was the one he had always known would hurt the most.
Ducky sat down at the dining table and pushed a warm cup of coffee in his direction, claiming a cup of tea for himself.
“Jethro, we both know that I’ve hidden behind your collar for far too long,” Ducky said. Gibbs took a sip of coffee, and gazed at his old friend.
“Yeah, I know,” he muttered.
“Fourteen years to be precise,” Ducky added. “I don’t suppose that any of us thought it would be this long when you fastened that strip of shirt around my neck all those years ago.”
“I guess not.” Gibbs shook his head. “Has it really been that long? Damn that makes me feel old. But he was always out there, Ducky, sending you those threatening letters, calling you, even until fairly recently. It never felt safe for you to take the collar off while he was alive, did it?”
“No. It didn’t.” Ducky shook his head. “And to be honest, I loved wearing it. I was always very proud to be your collared sub, Jethro.”
“But you aren’t a sub at all, Ducky. You’re a switch,” Gibbs pointed out. “And I’ve always respected that. Didn’t really understand it, but respected it.”
“I know,” Ducky chuckled. “I can’t say I’ve done a very good job of understanding it myself. Maybe I’m more of a sub than I like to admit – after all, I wore Randolph’s collar for twenty-five years and yours for fourteen.”
“And now you get a chance to explore who you really are,” Gibbs said. “How are things going with Woolsey?”
“He’s a charming man,” Ducky replied, and he looked younger and more animated than Gibbs could remember seeing him in a long time. “We’re neither of us at an age or of an inclination where we think of sharing plates and buckling on marriage belts and all that kind of thing, but it’s been good for both of us I think.”
“If anyone can help someone like him then it’s you,” Gibbs said. He didn’t know Woolsey that well but he knew a sub who had escaped a bullying top when he saw one.
“Yes, I have rather been there, done that,” Ducky replied, with a wry shake of his head.
“And when we go back home? What happens then?”
“Well we've only known each other a short time so we decided we wouldn’t expect too much of each other at this stage. If he wants to see other tops then that’s fine by me, and the same goes for me too, if a sub or top takes my fancy. However... he is intending to make a trip back to Earth regularly – this IOA committee want him to report in person on a monthly basis from now on. We can meet up then. He’s also said I’m welcome to spend vacation time on Atlantis so we can stay in touch and see how it goes. I’ll be thinking of retiring in a few years so who knows what I’ll decide to do then. There are worse places to retire to than the Pegasus galaxy!”
“It’s a long way to come for a visit, Ducky,” Gibbs pointed out.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll find a way, Jethro,” Ducky replied. “You always do, you know.”
“Yeah.” Gibbs took another sip of his coffee. He wasn’t great at dealing with his own emotions, he knew that, and this was tough.
“But my dear boy, I wouldn’t leave you in the lurch,” Ducky said. “You have been the best and truest friend a man could ask for. If you want me to keep the collar then I will.”
“No, Duck.” Gibbs shook his head. “Jordan’s dead, and he was always the main reason for you wearing it. It’s done its job. Like you said, I never intended to keep any of you for good when I first collared you.”
“No, indeed!” Ducky chuckled. “But you did a good job, Jethro. You saved us in various ways – all of us – and now you’re setting us free. You’re a man of honour, my friend.”
He got up, went over to where Gibbs was sitting, and knelt in front of him. “You put it there, Jethro,” he said softly. “I would very much like you to be the one to remove it.”
Gibbs reached out, and touched the plain black collar. Jordan had been right when he said they were cheap – Gibbs had bought them for a few dollars at Walmart. However, the sentiment behind them had never been cheap, and he knew his subs had understood that.
He pulled blindly on the buckle, wondering whether his eyesight had deteriorated overnight because he was having trouble seeing. He felt Ducky’s fingers gently cover his own and they opened the buckle together. Gibbs pulled the collar and it fell into his hand. He threw it onto the table and blinked, and his vision cleared. He wiped his hand across his eyes and was surprised when it came away wet. Ducky stood up.
“Thank you, my friend,” he said.
"Bye Ducky," Gibbs whispered hoarsely.
"Goodbye, Jethro." Ducky put a hand on Gibbs's shoulder and squeezed.
“This place must be jinxed or something,” Gibbs said, with a rueful shake of his head. “I had a whole fistful of collared subs when I arrived but now not one of ‘em is wearing my collar.”
“Well, technically speaking, that’s not entirely true,” Ducky pointed out. “Neither Tony nor you removed his collar, so legally and, I dare say, emotionally, his status remains rather undecided, doesn’t it?”
“Ah, hell. Tony doesn’t need saving any more than the rest of you now,” Gibbs said. “He’s grown up a lot lately.”
“You’re quite right; he doesn’t need saving any more,” Ducky agreed.
“So I guess I’m all out of people to save now,” Gibbs sighed.
“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, Jethro,” Ducky said quietly. “There’s still one more person.”
“Who?” Gibbs looked up at him, surprised.
“You, my dear boy,” Ducky murmured. “You.” He bent his head and kissed Gibbs’s hair before straightening up. “You deserve to be happy. Be as kind to yourself as you’ve been to all of us, Jethro - you’re worth it."
"Am I?" Gibbs looked up, straight into Ducky's eyes. "I couldn't save them, Ducky," he said hoarsely. "Shannon and Kelly. Protecting them was my job and I didn't do it. So why the hell do I deserve to be happy?"
Ducky took his face in his hands and held it firmly. "Oh Jethro. Is that what all this has been about? All these years? Oh my dear boy. No wonder you've been saving people ever since. Jethro - listen to me. Of *course* you deserve some happiness. You're a good man. You've always been a good man. What happened to Shannon and Kelly wasn't your fault. What happened to Tony, Tim and Abby wasn't your fault either. Now let it go, my dear boy. You must let it go - and that's not a suggestion, Jethro. It's an order." He bestowed a gentle kiss on Gibbs's forehead, and then released him. Gibbs raised an eyebrow.
"You giving me orders now, Ducky?"
"Yes, my dear boy - I am." Ducky gave a little smile. “And as for Tony's collar - there is another reason for collaring a sub apart from saving him, you know, Jethro."
“There is?” Gibbs raised an eyebrow. “Like what, Ducky?”
“Love, Jethro,” Ducky told him softly. “Love.”
He stroked Gibbs’s arm one last time, and then he turned and left.
Gibbs sat there for a moment, staring at where his last collared sub had been, feeling numb. He felt wetness on his cheeks and raised his arm angrily to wipe it away. He wasn’t used to this kind of emotion and had no idea what to do with it.
He found himself getting up and going back to the evidence room. He searched through the boxes until he found what he was looking for, and then he slammed the data stick into his laptop and watched.
The camera was fixed into position, so there were no fancy angles. He saw himself, standing on the south pier, looking out at the ocean. Tony was beside him. That much was what he remembered. Then Tony turned and walked away from him, towards Tim and Ziva, saying something. He was a good few feet away from him now. Tim pointed upwards, at a bird flying overhead, and at the same time gunshots rang out. Tony turned, so fast he was a blur, and flung himself on Gibbs. Gibbs remembered feeling all his breath leave his body as he went down; Tony was no lightweight. It had taken him a few seconds to get his breath back and by then Tony had turned, shielding Gibbs’s body with his own, and was reaching for his gun to start firing back, while gazing anxiously over at where Tim was lying on the ground, blood streaming from the wound on his arm.
Gibbs paused there, and then rewound and watched it again. Then again. Then, finally, he paused on it. Jordan had been right - Tony’s love for him had been right under his nose the whole time and on some level he'd even been aware of that – he’d just chosen not to acknowledge it. Then Jordan had hit him in the face with it and now - now what? He loved all the time he'd been spending with Tony recently, sharing little bits of himself, letting Tony in, just a little way. His heart knew what it wanted even if he was stubborn bastard enough to still try and resist. Maybe he'd been locked up inside this prison of grief and recrimination for so long that he had become comfortable inside it - and maybe Ducky was right; maybe it was time to give himself a break.
He got up, went into the bedroom, picked up his backpack and took out the little box he found in there. He walked out to the balcony and stood there, watching as the sun went down over the ocean, painting the sky in various shades of reds and golds as it sank down towards the horizon.
“Save myself?” he muttered, shaking his head. “If it was that easy I’d have done it years ago.”
He opened up the box and let Shannon’s collar ripple through his fingers. Tony was right too – he always had been a stubborn bastard, even as a little kid, and he still was. Maybe it wasn’t always a virtue though. Fifteen years was a long time to grieve. She wasn’t ever coming back; maybe it was finally time to let her go.
He picked up the collar and kissed it, one last time.
“Goodbye, Shannon,” he whispered, and then he raised his arm and threw the collar out, far out into the distance. He watched as it cleared the city’s gleaming turrets and landed in the ocean, where it sank immediately.
He wasn’t sure what he felt. Relief? Sadness? Maybe a bit of both. He did know what he had to do next though.
He strode down to General Sheppard’s quarters, and knocked on the door. The general opened it, a surprised look on his face.
“I need a favour,” Gibbs said.
~*~
Tony stood by the open door, glaring at Carson.
“If you’re releasing me then I don’t see why I can’t just go,” he said, through gritted teeth.
“And as I’ve told you a dozen times, son, I’m only releasing you when Gibbs arrives and signs you out,” Carson told him.
Tony narrowed his eyes, and pointed at his throat. “Do you *see* a collar around this neck, Carson? Huh? No. That’s because there isn’t one. So I don’t need any damn top to sign me out.”
Carson’s blue eyes, which he’d once thought avuncular and genial but had since come to realise were steely and no-nonsense, just gazed at him steadily.
“Son, don’t play semantics with me,” he said firmly. “I was there – I saw how that collar was removed.”
Tony bit on his lip; he hated being reminded of that.
“Now, you and Agent Gibbs might have some unfinished business to sort out but you have to respect the man for not just snapping a collar back on you while you were recuperating from being tortured and damn near raped and murdered!” Carson said, his eyes flashing. “You never, ever collar a sub without their consent, and he’s waited until you’re well enough to give full, informed consent, without the influence of pain meds or anything else. He’s acted like your top, and done everything a good top would do. He barely left your bedside those first few days, and he’s visited you every single damn day since. He’s been with you every step of the way through all the hard times - when you were screaming, when you had nightmares, when you were throwing up and when you were in pain, so don’t give me any bullshit about him not being your top.”
“Fine.” Tony threw himself down on the chair by the door and gazed up at the ceiling. He knew Carson was right but he’d been waiting longingly for this day and he was disappointed Gibbs hadn’t come by straight after breakfast to pick him up.
The last time he’d seen his boss had been yesterday lunchtime when Gibbs had stopped by to take him for their regular walk to the south pier and to bring him some clothes, but then he’d gone back to work. Although what the hell work there was to do when the case had been wrapped up days ago was beyond Tony.
“Guy needs to get out more,” he muttered to himself as he sat there, long legs draped over the arms of the chair. Gibbs had brought him his favourite pair of faded denim jeans and his black shirt. He’d even brought him his tan coloured Timberlands. How Gibbs knew these clothes were his favourites Tony didn’t know, but they were.
It had felt so good to actually get dressed this morning. The bruising on his face had completely gone, and his shoulders and back no longer gave him any pain – the marks there would soon fade, hopefully without any permanent scarring.
He suspected that Carson had kept him in the infirmary for longer than was strictly necessary but he also knew the reason why. At times during his stay there Tony had seen, reflected in the doctor's eyes, the memory of what Carson had witnessed that day Jordan had tortured him. It was a forcible reminder that he wasn’t the only one who’d been traumatised by what had happened in that room. Tony knew that was why Carson wanted to make sure he had done everything in his power to restore Tony to full health before he would release him.
He also knew that they were all worried about his psychological state; he’d run rings around Dr Heightmeyer until Gibbs had stepped in and mercifully put the poor woman out of her misery by removing him from her patient list. As therapy had failed, Tony suspected that another reason Carson had kept him so long was to make sure he had come to terms with what had happened to him, and wasn’t a suicide risk.
“Damn overprotective tops,” Tony muttered under his breath, although he knew he wouldn’t have it any other way. He glanced at his watch to find that it was nearly noon. Gibbs was doing this to torture him, he was sure of it; just another of the little toppy tricks in Gibbs’s extensive arsenal.
Tony knew he was using petulance to hide his own anxiety. The whole collar thing would have to be resolved soon, one way or the other, and while he dreaded the conversation he knew it had to happen and he longed to get it out of the way.
“Worse than waiting for a hard punishment spanking,” he murmured, moving his head from side to side to loosen the tension in his neck. “Hate being kept waiting for the big ones.”
Carson, who was sitting on the side of one of the now empty beds, writing up notes on his chart, chuckled at that one.
“Relax son. I’m sure Gibbs will be here soon.”
“You don’t know Gibbs,” Tony said sourly. “This is his idea of fun. Trust me. And Carson – you can’t be more than three or four years older than me so what’s with the ‘son’ thing?”
“Son, this is my infirmary and I view every single one of my patients as my subs while they’re here, to be cared for to the utmost of my ability,” Carson told him.
“Really? That explains a lot,” Tony muttered.
“Aye – so my patients are ‘son’, or ‘lad’, or ‘lass’ to me, regardless of age, status or orientation,” Carson grinned.
“I’d love to see Gibbs in here as your patient then.” Tony fantasised about that idly for a few seconds.
“Please – don’t wish that on me,” Carson replied, in mock terror. “You’ve turned my hair grey all by yourself – he’d make me go white overnight.”
“Oh your hair isn’t grey, Doc,” Tony grinned, gazing at Carson’s sleek black hair. “It’s kind of a weird style, all pointy on top like that, but it’s not grey.”
Carson glared at him.
“Uh…did I say ‘weird’? That wasn’t the word I meant to use,” Tony said hurriedly.
“Did you open your mouth without engaging your brain again, DiNozzo?” a dry voice asked by the door. Gibbs had appeared, as usual, from nowhere, without making a sound.
“Yes boss, sorry boss,” Tony said. “Thank god you’re here, boss! And what the hell took you so long?” he added.
Gibbs grinned at him. “Impatient to be let out, DiNozzo?”
Tony made a face at him. Gibbs turned to Carson.
“Doc, you deserve a medal for putting up with him for so long,” he said.
“I can’t pretend it’s been easy,” Carson replied with a heartfelt sigh. “And I can’t say that I’m not a very happy man to have him signed out of my custody. Thank god he’s not going to be my responsibility any more. It’ll take me weeks to whip those nurses back into shape – he’s a terrible influence with that smart mouth of his and all his sneaking around, leading impressionable staff astray.”
“Tell me about it. I’ve had to put up with it for years,” Gibbs grinned.
“I’m standing right here,” Tony pointed out.
Carson handed Gibbs a sheet of paper, grinning broadly as he did so. Gibbs glanced at it, and then signed it with a terse flourish of his hand and gave the paper back to Carson.
“So now you are officially free, Tony,” Carson said. “And don't think you're the only one celebrating that news."
“Thanks doc,” Tony said, moving his hips in a little freedom dance. He grabbed Carson and kissed his cheek. “You’ve been great – kinda scary, but great.”
Gibbs rolled his eyes, shook Carson’s hand, and then led the way out of the room and into the main infirmary. Tony high-fived his favourite nurses on the way out. His body felt loose, healthy and relaxed and he was suddenly full of good spirits. He was free!
“DiNozzo!” Gibbs snapped, from over by the door. Tony finished doing a little celebratory lap around the infirmary and chased after his boss – Gibbs hated to be kept waiting.
He followed Gibbs along the hallways, back towards their quarters.
“So…if we asked nicely would Sheppard fly us around in one of those cool little spaceships?” he said, as they walked. “Abby says Lorne takes her all over the place - of course he’s a pilot which helps. I want to get out there and see things before we have to go home, boss. I mean, this is a completely different planet! Okay, so there seems to be a distinct lack of nightlife but I’m sure we can jazz things up, hold a few parties – right, boss?”
Gibbs glanced at him over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised.
“Or not,” Tony said, running to catch up.
They got back to their quarters and Tony felt a rush of déjà vu as they walked inside. He paused, and gazed around.
“Feels kind of strange to be back here, boss,” he murmured. “Last time I was here we were having that discussion about Jordan, and then we set off for that meeting…and man, that feels like a long time ago, boss. The room’s different.”
The investigator in him noticed that the place was tidier than it had been when he was last here – and emptier. Six people living together in a suite of rooms meant that there was always lots of stuff lying around – cups, shoes, files, PDAs, laptops, books…but there was little of that now.
What there was, lying on the dining table, was a plain black collar. Tony stiffened.
Gibbs turned, and saw where he was looking.
“Problem Tony?” he asked.
Tony took a deep breath. Now that the moment had come he knew what he had to do. He hadn’t been sure before but now they were here, and the collar was in front of him, it all seemed clear.
He went over to the table and picked up the collar, caressing the soft leather gently with his thumb.
“I liked how this felt around my throat,” he said quietly, gazing at Gibbs. “It’s all warm, and snug, and comfortable. I liked the way other subs looked at me when they knew I was wearing your collar – I liked that a lot. I liked how tops would chat me up, then back off when they met you and realised it was your collar I was wearing. I liked that it protected me, that you protected me from self-destructing by putting it on me. I liked all those things.”
He raised the collar to his nose, and inhaled the smell of the leather.
“But I can’t wear it again,” he said, looking straight at his boss.
Gibbs gave a little nod. “I understand,” he said.
“Not because I don’t want to – because you have no idea how tempting it is,” Tony said. Now he wasn’t hiding any more, because his cover had been blown several days ago, in a dank room at the bottom of a derelict tower on an alien world. Now he was the Tony DiNozzo he didn’t let anyone see very often because growing up he’d learned it was better to let people think he was a shallow rich kid who played the fool than to allow them to get close enough to hurt him.
“But, tempting though it is, the conditions that come with wearing your collar are too hard,” Tony said. “Last time around I thought I could handle it, and for a long time I could. I can’t do it any more though. It’d be selling myself short and I’ve been doing that my entire life. It’s time to find something real, instead of hanging on hoping for something that’s never gonna happen.”
Gibbs gave a little shake of his head. “I told Ducky you didn’t need saving any more,” he said. “I was right. You’ve come a long way, Tony.”
“Thanks boss.” Tony gave a little nod of his head, meaning it. Gibbs’s praise had always been important to him and he didn’t think that would ever change. “I still love the job – I still want to work with you, if you’ll have me,” he said.
“Think you can handle that? Working with me and not wearing my collar?” Gibbs asked.
“Maybe not. We’ll see,” Tony said thoughtfully. “So…” He glanced around the room. “I suppose this is goodbye. I’ll just grab my stuff – I’ll go ask Woolsey if I can be reassigned to some different quarters – I’m sure you won’t want me around, getting underfoot, now I’m not collared.”
He put the collar down, regretfully, on the table and then walked over to where his boss was standing.
“Should say thank you, boss – for everything,” he said. “I think we both know I wouldn’t still be alive today if you hadn’t put that collar on me back then. I’d have done something stupid, pissed off the wrong people, and been found lying in an alley with a bullet in my brain one dark night.”
“Yeah – I think you would,” Gibbs agreed, with a wry smile.
“Bye boss.” Tony put out a hand and patted Gibbs’s arm. He didn’t want to think about how good it felt to touch the man – that part of his life was over. He had to move on.
“Bye Tony,” Gibbs said, those sharp blue eyes of his betraying nothing.
Tony sighed, and walked over to his bedroom to collect his things. He had hoped for something more – a tear might be too much to ask for but perhaps some sign that Gibbs actually cared about losing him.
“Tony.” He paused as Gibbs said his name. “The collar on the table wasn’t yours,” Gibbs said. “It was Ducky’s.”
Tony turned, frowning. “You took Ducky’s collar off him?” he asked, bemused.
“We took it off together,” Gibbs said. “It was time, and it was what he wanted – what he needed.”
“Wow. Never thought that would happen.”
“He didn’t need saving any more than you do now,” Gibbs said softly. “I wasn’t going to offer you your old collar back, Tony.”
“Oh.” Tony felt a bit deflated by that.
“I was going to offer you a new one,” Gibbs said.
Tony frowned. Gibbs reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a little bag. He opened it, carefully fished out what was in it, and held it up. Tony gave a startled whistle. Gibbs was holding a beautiful collar made of two different kinds of gold, entwined together in strong, chunky links, one a warm red colour and the other shinier and almost silver in hue. At intervals there were smooth, solid, golden rectangles, shaped a little like abstract padlocks. It was sharp and classy – understated but an object of beauty.
“That looks expensive,” he murmured.
“It was,” Gibbs said. “I bought it from an Athosian craftsman on the mainland. That’s why I was late picking you up from the infirmary this morning. I had a very definite idea of what I wanted, you see. John Sheppard flew me over there last night and I told the Athosian guy how I wanted it to look and he said he’d work on it overnight and have it ready for me today. The different colours are new gold and old gold, linked together. I liked that.”
Tony moved closer, his heart beating a little too fast. He held out his hand and Gibbs dropped the collar into it. Up close, it was even more beautiful. He had never seen a collar like this – it was completely and utterly unique. He ran his fingers over the smooth metal and then glanced up at Gibbs.
“This collar – does it come with any conditions?” he asked. “Last one did.”
Gibbs shook his head. “No. This one is a little more traditional. This one isn’t about rescuing you, or saving you from yourself. This one…this one’s just about loving you," he said softly.
Tony stared at him. He’d never thought he’d hear anything like that from Gibbs’s lips. Gibbs leaned in close, and whispered into his ear.
“You wear this, I’ll want full body rights from you, DiNozzo,” he said, in a tone that went straight to Tony’s cock. “You’ll be mine – in the bedroom, at work, everywhere. Not for a year, or five years, but until the day you die. So think about it, Tony…think about it very carefully.”
Tony could feel the gold warming up between his fingers. He gazed at the collar for a long time, and then shook his head, and handed it back.
“See, thing is, I don’t think I can share,” he said. “I’ll happily belong to you but I’ll need you to belong to me too and that’s not going to happen while you have a bunch of other subs hanging from your leash.”
“No sharing,” Gibbs told him. “There are no other subs.”
“Abby?” Tony asked. Gibbs shook his head. “Ziva and Tim?” Tony said, bemused. Gibbs shook his head again. “What the hell happened while I was in the infirmary?” Tony grumbled. “I come back here and everything’s changed.”
“Everything *has* changed, Tony,” Gibbs told him. “Everything. You accept this collar and I promise you that I won’t collar any other sub. To be honest, I think I’ll have my hands too full to even think about it," he added with a wry grin.
“What about your first spouse?” Tony asked. “I respect her place in your life but I won’t compete with a ghost – and I’m guessing that’s why all your other relationships failed.”
“You guess right,” Gibbs agreed. “But this time it won’t be a problem, Tony.”
“How do I know that?”
“Because I haven’t been in love with anyone since Shannon – but I'm in love you.”
Gibbs wasn’t a hearts and flowers kind of man but he had always been direct and to the point. Tony doubted he’d ever get any big speeches but he would get simple statements of truth, and that was enough for him.
“Think about it, Tony,” Gibbs said, placing the collar back in his hand and closing his fingers around it. “No need to rush into anything. Take your time.”
He turned and went out onto the balcony, leaving Tony alone in the room. Tony sat down at the table and gazed at the collar in his hand, hardly able to believe that this was happening to him. What would it be like to be Gibbs's properly collared sub, he wondered? Different to the past five years, that was for sure. He wondered what it would feel like to give full body rights to the man standing out there. He’d never given body rights to any top in his life before, and the thought of it both thrilled and scared him.
All the same, he was a sub to his bones, as he had said many times before, and he had always wanted to find a top to match him. If anyone was that top it was Gibbs. He rolled the collar over in his hand, and that was when he saw the engraving, in copperplate letters, on one of the gold padlocks: Leroy Jethro Gibbs.
If he accepted this collar he’d belong to this man and wear his name around his neck so everyone could see who had collared him. He turned over the chain and saw the engraving on the other side – just one word, but it made his heart skip a beat: Beloved.
He got up and went out onto the balcony. Gibbs didn’t turn around – he just kept gazing out at the ocean.
“The answer’s no,” Tony said. Gibbs turned, his eyes flashing, and Tony laughed. “Don’t be an idiot,” he said. “Like the answer was ever going to be anything other than yes.”
Gibbs’s hand connected, resoundingly, with the back of his head and Tony grinned and winced at the same time. He handed the collar back to Gibbs.
“You sure about this, Tony?” Gibbs asked. “Because before I put this on you there’s some stuff you should know.”
Tony frowned. “What kind of stuff?”
“I’m a demanding top,” Gibbs began. Tony laughed out loud.
“You don’t say? And five years working with you would have given me the idea you’re a pussycat how?” he asked.
“Ex-spouses all said the same thing,” Gibbs shrugged. “They all said I’m unreasonable, stubborn, obsessed with my work, and a whole lot of other things.”
“Oh they just didn’t know how to handle you,” Tony said confidently.
“And you think you do?” Gibbs raised a challenging eyebrow. Tony grinned at him.
“Oh yeah,” he said. “But, while we’re on the subject – are you sure about this too? I’m not an easy sub to top. I have issues.”
It was Gibbs’s turn to laugh. “I’ve handled your issues for five years, Tony. I think I have them all figured out.”
“I have trust issues,” Tony said, counting that one off on his fingers. Gibbs gazed at him speculatively.
“You trust me?” he asked.
“With my life,” Tony answered, with a firm nod.
“Then that’s not a problem. Next?”
“I have commitment issues,” Tony pointed out.
“Tony, you haven’t slept with a top in five years and all because I put my collar on you. I don’t think we need to worry about the commitment issues, do you?” Gibbs asked.
“I guess not,” Tony said, with a little grin. “I have daddy issues,” he continued, counting that one off on his fingers. Gibbs laughed again.
“You think, DiNozzo?” He rolled his eyes expressively. “Do I look like your father, Tony?”
“Hell no!”
“Do I act like your father, Tony?”
“Never,” Tony said, shaking his head.
“Then I don’t think that’ll be a problem, do you?” Gibbs raised an eyebrow.
“Depends,” Tony said, in a more thoughtful tone. “I know you like your JD but do you ever get drunk?”
Gibbs shifted a little, gazing at him searchingly. “Sometimes,” he said.
“That’s fine – I get drunk too, sometimes. Thing is…when you get drunk, I’ll be sleeping on the couch. And those full body rights? They won’t apply when you’re drunk. Just so we’re clear.”
Gibbs nodded thoughtfully. “We’re clear, Tony, and that sounds fine and reasonable to me.”
“And if you ever hit me while you’re drunk then I’ll hit you right back, then take off the collar and you won’t ever see me again,” Tony continued, in a deadly serious tone.
Gibbs’s expression darkened. “Hey - I don’t *ever* abuse subs – drunk or sober,” he said. “Got that?”
“Yeah. I got it.” Tony nodded. “Sorry. Just had to be clear.”
Gibbs nodded. “You were, Tony. I get it – and I understand.”
Tony looked at him for a long time and Gibbs looked back as they got the measure of each other, not as boss and subordinate any more but as potential lovers and life partners. They both had their demons but Tony thought they were demons they could slay if they tried.
“So, if we’re agreed that we’re both a nightmare to take on…” Tony sank down on his knees, and gazed up at Gibbs. “Would you please collar me, boss?” he asked.
“Jethro,” Gibbs corrected him. “I’m not collaring you as your boss. I’m collaring you as your top.”
Tony nodded. “Please collar me, Jethro,” he said. He had thought that it would feel strange, using Gibbs’s first name for the first time, but it didn’t. It felt totally natural.
Gibbs looked down at him for a moment, the sun glinting off the golden collar in his hand. Then he moved around, so he was standing behind Tony, the back of Tony’s head pressing against his groin. Tony put his head right back, and gazed up at him. Trust Gibbs to manoeuvre him into a position of such abject surrender, neck exposed as he looked up and behind him.
Gibbs stroked his throat, fingertips sending spikes of electricity through Tony’s body. He knelt there, facing out to sea, arms behind his back, head back, throat naked…waiting. Gibbs undid the collar, and Tony closed his eyes and offered up his neck to his top.
Tony felt the gold links of the collar slide around his neck as easily as if he’d been wearing it for years. He heard a little click and then the collar was in place. He took a deep breath, and opened his eyes again. He was a collared sub. Gibbs’s collared sub. Gibbs’s *only* collared sub…and he had a sudden realisation of all that might entail.
On collaring, a sub gave themselves to their top, totally and completely. By accepting a top’s collar they agreed to all the demands a top might make on their body, and consented to submit and surrender to whatever their top wanted to do to them. His body now belonged, in the most basic way, to Leroy Jethro Gibbs – and that was a good thought and a scary thought at one and the same time.
Gibbs seemed to read those thoughts.
“I’ve never given a sub a safe word in my life and I’m not about to start now,” Gibbs told him.
“I didn’t think for a second you would,” Tony replied. “I’m guessing that’s the way you’ve always liked to play.”
“Oh, I don’t play, Tony,” Gibbs said, a feral smile on his lips. “I don’t play, I don’t do scenes, and I don’t use toys.”
“What’s wrong with toys?” Tony asked, surprised. Most tops used toys and most subs liked it; he certainly did.
“I don’t need ‘em,” Gibbs said. “If there’s something you particularly like I’m happy to do it for you occasionally, but it’s not my thing. I’m sexually dominant, Tony, and trust me, I’ll be able to dominate you just fine without using any toys.”
Tony had no doubt at all that that was true. “So…no cock rings?” he risked asking.
Gibbs circled him, one hand on his shoulder. “If I ask you to hold it, I expect you to hold it without help,” he whispered into Tony’s ear. Tony’s cock gave a little lurch for freedom at the tone of his voice.
“Nipple clamps?” Tony asked, his mouth going dry. Gibbs’s fingers slid across the front of his shirt, found his nipples, and pinched, hard. Tony swallowed back a yelp.
“That’s what my fingers are for,” Gibbs told him.
“Cuffs? Everyone needs cuffs, surely?” Tony croaked.
Gibbs slid his hands down Tony’s shoulders, gathered his wrists in a vice-like grip, and held his hands behind his back. “Feel like you can escape?” he asked.
“No,” Tony whispered, his cock now hard as iron, pressing painfully against the front of his jeans. “What about butt plugs, or dildos?” he dared to ask, his voice sounding more like a squeak to his own ears.
Gibbs leaned forward, and spoke straight into his ear. “And what’s wrong with my hard cock up your ass?” he asked.
“Oh, nothing,” Tony said, wondering if he’d died and gone to heaven. “Nothing at all.”
“Good.” Gibbs’s warm breath ghosted over his ear, making him shiver.
“You’ve got a strap though – and a paddle,” Tony pointed out. “I’ve been on the receiving end of those more times than I can count. And there’s that damn cane you keep in your basement - you’ve used that on me a few times, although admittedly only when I really screwed up – and, hey, what about that switch you had me cut for you that time when we working that case in Shenandoah National Park?”
“Oh they’re not toys – they’re tools of the trade, and with you they’re a necessity,” Gibbs said, a dangerous kind of smile in his voice. “I’m also an expert with a flogger, the bullwhip and, my personal favourite, the single-tailed whip. Even so, most of the time all you’ll feel is the flat of my hand on your bare ass, Tony.”
“And given how hard your hand is I’m guessing it’s pretty much all you need,” Tony sighed.
“Usually works,” Gibbs agreed.
He put a hand under Tony’s elbow and drew him up to his feet, then pulled Tony’s arm, turning him around so he was facing him. Then he stepped in close – too close - so close that Tony could feel his shirt brushing against him, and the warmth of his body. Gibbs was looking at Tony like he was prey and it felt strange, after all these years of being the one doing the hunting, to suddenly have the tables turned and be hunted instead.
“So,” Tony said, trying to get some control back. “It’s, what, about just after one? I’m thinking you were planning on some lunch, maybe followed by a walk – it’s a nice day out there.”
Gibbs grinned at him, his blue eyes so close and so intense that Tony wanted to back away – only to find he was rooted to the spot by that mesmerising stare.
“Oh no.” Gibbs shook his head. “Oh no, Tony. You’ve been propositioning me just about every day for five years and today’s the day you get to deliver. I’ve been waiting a long time for this and I don’t care what time of the damn day it is. You’re mine and I’m going to take you. Right now.”
“Okay.” Tony swallowed hard. “See, you think that’s scaring me but really it’s just turning me on.”
“Actually, it’s doing both,” Gibbs said confidently.
He took hold of Tony’s hand and led him to the bedroom and Tony went, feeling as if his legs were made of jello. This had been such a long time coming that it seemed hard to believe the moment was finally here.
“Five years is kind of a long time,” Tony said, as Gibbs pulled him into the bedroom. “Be gentle with me, boss.”
Gibbs laughed out loud. “Oh, I don’t think so, Tony,” he said. “And Tony – if you ever call me ‘boss’ in the bedroom again, I’ll spank your ass until they can see it glowing from outer space.”
“Right. Jethro. Okay.” Tony nodded nervously.
Gibbs took off his jacket and Tony watched him, transfixed. Gibbs was wearing a plain black shirt and black pants beneath the black jacket – his sexiest ensemble and one Tony had always found pretty hot - not least the big, shiny gleaming buckle of his belt. Gibbs threw the jacket over the armchair and then turned towards him, undoing his shirt sleeves as he walked. Tony took a step back, and then another – that predatory look in Gibbs’s eyes was unnerving.
“So it’s been five years for me but how long for you?” Tony asked, trying to coax some normality back into Gibbs's hungry eyes, freaked out by just how single-minded Gibbs looked right now.
“Awhile – but not as long as that."
“I knew it!” Tony said. “It’s Ducky isn’t it? I knew you and he…ummf”
He shut up as Gibbs pushed him against the wall and placed a hand over his mouth.
“And this is why I don’t need a gag, either,” Gibbs told him with a grin. “And also - this.” He removed his hand but only to replace it with his mouth. Tony sighed and was glad of the wall now, holding him up, as Gibbs kissed him on the lips for the first time.
It wasn’t anything like what he had fantasised about – it was so much better. Gibbs’s mouth was determined and expert, Gibbs’s body was pressed up close against his, pinning him in place, and Gibbs’s tongue was ruthlessly efficient at opening him up and gaining an entrance he was all too happy to allow.
As he kissed him, Gibbs ran his hands down Tony’s arms, reached his wrists, grasped them firmly in his own, and pushed them up over Tony’s head. Now he leaned in even closer, his body firm and solid against Tony’s, his leg pressed between Tony’s legs, their groins touching. He held Tony’s hands in his own, keeping them pressed against the wall, and Tony had just the briefest flash of realisation that Gibbs hadn’t been kidding when he said he would dominate Tony without the need for toys. Gibbs could wield his personality, his hard body, and the sheer force of his iron determination like deadly weapons in the battle for his sub’s total surrender.
Tony was happy to give him that surrender. He relaxed beneath the kiss, allowing Gibbs to take control, giving it all up to him. His body started to unwind as he trusted Gibbs to hold him there, against the wall. Gibbs would keep him up. Gibbs owned his body now – all he had to do was give in.
This wasn’t like any kind of foreplay he’d experienced before and Tony had another realisation that he was in the presence of a master top here. Teasing and playing were out of the question; Gibbs would demand nothing less than everything he had, and he hoped he wouldn’t disappoint the man. This wasn’t a scene, and Tony wouldn’t be able to flirt and wheedle his way through it to get what he wanted. He would have to take whatever Gibbs wanted to do to him and that thought was more arousing than he’d have imagined possible.
Gibbs finished kissing him and drew back, and Tony was about to say something glib to diffuse the sheer intensity of the situation when next thing he knew he’d been flipped around, as easy as anything, and he was now facing the wall, head angled to one side. Gibbs pushed his hands up the wall, his own hands covering Tony's, and leaned in close.
“Stop fighting me,” he whispered in Tony’s ear.
“I’m not!” Tony protested.
“Stop thinking, stop second guessing me, and stop trying to have control. Just give in.” He kissed the back of Tony’s neck, making him shiver, and all the time he kept Tony pinned there, against the wall, his hands flat on Tony’s hands, utterly unmovable even if Tony had wanted to struggle – which he didn’t. Gibbs’s body was heavy on his own and he could feel his top’s hard cock pressed against his buttocks.
Gibbs continued kissing the sensitive spot between his new collar and his hairline, and Tony sighed, loving the way it felt to have such a dominant partner pinning him against the wall. Gibbs moved his head and nibbled the tip of Tony’s earlobe affectionately, then bit a little harder. Tony gave a little yowl and Gibbs sucked the abused tip of flesh, warming and soothing it.
Then he pulled Tony around again, and, wrapping one hand in Tony’s hair to keep him in place he used his other hand to rip down the front of Tony’s shirt, sending buttons flying.
“Hey…favourite shirt!” Tony protested.
“I know,” Gibbs said. “But it was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He flashed Tony another one of those feral grins and flipped him again, pulling him free of the shirt at the exact same time. He flung the shirt on the chair without missing a beat.
Tony had never been undressed so expertly in his entire life. He wondered where Gibbs had learned this particular skill but before he had time to think about it Gibbs was back on him, one hand planted square in the centre of his back, pushing him against the wall again, face first, and the other tangled up in his hair, making it impossible to move.
He felt Gibbs’s mouth on his shoulders, and then gently teasing the healing wounds on his back.
“This hurt?” Gibbs asked softly.
“No,” Tony replied honestly.
“Good. You tell me if it does. I never want to hurt you by accident – only by design.”
Tony shivered because that sounded both good and bad and he liked that particular combination all too well.
Gibbs was like an octopus, Tony thought, because he was sure the man had more than two hands. It certainly felt that way; he seemed to have one hand on his fly and another tangled in his hair, and he was sure he could feel more hands all over his body but maybe that was just his imagination. Gibbs undid his belt and fly, and next thing he knew his jeans were pooled around his ankles.
Gibbs pulled him away from the wall and then flipped him around and pushed him so that he landed expertly on the bed, jeans tangled up in his Timberlands. Tony reached down to try and untangle them and found his hand seized in a firm grip, and then thrust firmly back over his head.
“See, thing is,” Gibbs told him, leaning over him, that feral look still in his eyes, “I don’t like seeing anyone else’s hands on my sub except my own – and that includes yours.”
Tony gazed at him, wide-eyed. “You don’t want me to touch myself, Jethro?” he asked. “What - ever?”
“Not when I’m touching you,” Gibbs replied. “When I’m not you can do what you like, but when you’re in bed with me your body is mine and I’m the only one who gets to touch it. I’m a little possessive that way.”
“A little?” Tony rolled his eyes. Gibbs grinned.
“You’ll get used to it.”
Tony sank back down on the bed, thumping his head on the pillow. He felt Gibbs’s fingers make short work of the laces on his boots and then they were gone, and so were his socks. His jeans followed suit, leaving him completely naked save for the collar around his neck. He was aware of his hard cock standing almost flat against his belly, seriously turned on by what was happening to him.
“Now that is a good look for you,” Gibbs said, standing over him, looking down.
“One of us is overdressed for this particular party,” Tony said, reaching up and getting as far as Gibbs’s shiny silver belt buckle before his questing fingers were pushed away.
“And another thing you’ll have to learn about me,” Gibbs told him, sitting down on the bed beside him, still holding his hand firmly between his fingers, pressing it back into the mattress. “I really like to be in control.”
“I kind of knew that one already,” Tony said, making a face.
“Then stop trying to take it back,” Gibbs said tersely. “Because this is the first and most important lesson that you’re going to learn, and you’re going to learn it today, even if it takes us all day and all night to get the message home. You’re mine now, boy. You belong to me, body and soul, and submission isn’t optional – it’s mandatory.”
Tony barely had time to process what that might really mean before Gibbs’s mouth was on top of his again, claiming another deep kiss. He loved being naked and exposed, bare skin pressed up against the cool cotton of Gibbs’s shirt, and he loved the taste of Gibbs on his lips. Gibbs’s scent was one of coffee and leather and sawdust – even after weeks away from his beloved boat he still had the faint scent of the woodshed about him. All of those were mingled with good, honest sweat, and it turned Tony on. He lay there and just accepted the kiss, welcoming Gibbs’s deep, probing tongue and the weight of the man as he leaned on him, pinning him into the mattress.
Gibbs was a tall, solid man, but Tony probably had an inch on him in height and several more pounds in weight. Even so, Tony didn’t doubt for a moment that Gibbs could keep him pinned down without any problem at all, by sheer force of will if nothing else. He had finally found a top who could really *top* him, without him having to pretend. He had no safe word, and he knew the only way Gibbs would stop was if Tony removed his collar – and if did that, he was pretty sure Gibbs would never allow him to have it back.
He didn’t want to remove his collar though – he liked the thrill it gave him to be this naked and vulnerable under his top’s expert caresses. It was the kind of thrill he’d been looking for all his life and never experienced before. He had no doubt that Gibbs would keep his word and that by the end of this day he would have learned how to find the true submission he’d always longed for; he also suspected it might not be an easy lesson to learn.
“Close your eyes, Tony,” Gibbs said, and Tony obeyed him instantly. He felt the mattress shift and Gibbs get up, and then heard some jerky sounds which he suspected might be Gibbs getting undressed. Finally, he heard the nightstand drawer being opened and he shivered, suspecting his top was getting out lube. He was startled by a sharp tap on his head, and his eyes flew open.
“See, you’re still not getting it,” Gibbs told him. “You don’t want to be thinking about what I’m doing – you don't need to be thinking at all. All that you should be doing is submitting. Never mind – I’ll get you there, one way or another.”
That sounded kind of ominous but Tony couldn’t focus on analysing it because Gibbs was standing next to him…and - oh shit - he was completely naked. Gibbs had seen him naked before, several times, but Tony had never had that pleasure where Gibbs was concerned. Now he took his time, almost inhaling the sight of his top.
Gibbs might be fifteen years older than him but years in the Marines and NCIS had kept him fit and toned. There wasn’t an ounce of spare flesh on him and his stomach was washboard trim. He had a smattering of silver curls on his broad chest, firm shoulders, and biceps that were toned but not overly muscled. He had long, lean legs which led up to…Tony gave a satisfied sigh. He wasn’t obsessed with size but he was pleased that Gibbs was bigger than average. His cock was hard, as hard as Tony’s, and almost as vertical right now, curving up pleasingly from a thatch of wiry dark hair.
“Like what you see, Tony?” Gibbs asked, in an amused tone.
“Uh…yes, boss…sorry, Jethro…” Tony stammered, unable to take his eyes off his top’s naked body. He wondered what Gibbs’s ass looked like – it always seemed nice and peachy when he’d followed it into the elevator numerous times back at NCIS, and he hoped he’d get a good look at it if Gibbs would only turn around.
“Good…because from where I’m standing you look pretty fine too,” Gibbs said, and that predatory look was back in his eyes again. “Now, this is where we find out who you are, Tony.”
“We do?” Tony asked, frowning. “Because I thought we were having sex.”
“Yeah, we are,” Gibbs chuckled. “But I’ve waited a long time for a sub like you, Tony – one with something to really give up, and I’ll make you give it up – I’ll make you give everything up to me. You ready for that?”
“Uh…I'm not sure,” Tony squeaked.
“It’ll be sweet, taking you to that place,” Gibbs said, sitting down on the bed beside him. “I won’t stop until you’re there, Tony. Might be a long hard ride but we’ll get there. It’ll be nice not to have to hold back, nice knowing you can take everything I throw at you.”
“You know this how?” Tony asked, feeling seriously scared by whatever was about to happen next. Gibbs smiled, and stroked a dangerous fingertip down his chest, pausing to squeeze his fingers around Tony’s right nipple, eliciting a hoarse shout from his sub.
“Because I know you, Tony,” Gibbs whispered, moving his head close so his mouth was right by Tony’s ear. “And I’m about to get to know you a whole lot better.”
He was on the move again, covering Tony’s body with sweeping movements of his hands, seemingly in every place at once. Tony put his head back, feeling his new collar clink satisfyingly around his throat and the sweat start to trickle down his body.
He heard the pop of the lube cap being removed, and then his legs were pushed apart, and cool, slick lubricant was being slid into his body on the tip of Gibbs’s index finger.
“Relax…we have a long way to go yet,” Gibbs told him, finger working in deeper.
“Like I said…been a long time,” Tony sighed, trying to loosen up. He guessed it was like riding a bike and you never forgot but five years was one hell of a wait. “Maybe Jordan was right – maybe I am virginal again,” he joked, and the next minute he wished he hadn’t, as Gibbs’s hand slammed down beside his head and Gibbs’s blue eyes came into view, looking really pissed off.
“Don’t say his name to me,” Gibbs growled. “You’re mine…I don’t want to think of his filthy hands groping you, his thieving fingers taking your collar from you, his damn tongue on your body – on *my* sub’s body.”
Tony gazed up at him, realising, perhaps for the first time, that while Gibbs might not show his emotions often, they were as strong as you might expect from a top as powerful as him.
“Hey…easy,” Tony said softly. “I didn’t mean anything by it. He’s gone, Jethro – he’s dead now. He paid for what he did to me – you made him pay, remember?”
The intensity flared in Gibbs’s eyes for a moment and then faded, and he stroked his hand gently through Tony’s hair.
“Nearly lost you, Tony…and it damn near killed me,” he said, by way, Tony suspected, of apology. He felt oddly affected by Gibbs’s obvious distress – Gibbs had told him he loved him but this was the first time he’d really seen the depth of his top's feelings and it was strangely comforting. “Having to stand there and watch,” Gibbs whispered, his voice choking. “Watching him touch you, hurt you, and half kill you.”
“But I’m fine now,” Tony soothed. Gibbs continued stroking his hair, and then dipped his head and claimed a sweet, tender kiss from Tony’s mouth. This was unlike his previous kisses, which had been raw and commanding – this was a kiss of comfort; for himself as much as for his sub, Tony suspected.
Then that side of Gibbs disappeared, almost instantly, to be replaced by the dangerous, feral top again. He slid another finger into Tony’s ass and Tony sighed and relaxed, opening up his body easily. This was easy – Tony loved being fucked, and knew he was going to love it even more if Gibbs was the one doing the fucking.
“What did you say about trusting me?” Gibbs whispered, fingers exploring deep into Tony’s body.
“Trust you with my life, Jethro,” Tony replied, feeling hazy as another finger slipped in. Oh god this was good.
Gibbs finger-fucked him for a few minutes until Tony was boneless and relaxed on the bed. His cock was still hard against his belly but he had a feeling he wouldn’t be coming any time soon so he just enjoyed the sensation without trying to push towards orgasm. He thought Gibbs would probably deny him his climax as a punishment if he tried to do that in any case.
Then Gibbs removed his fingers, and Tony gave a soft moan of protest.
“Ssh…I’ve been patient for long enough, Tony DiNozzo. Time I claimed you now,” Gibbs told him, in a low, throaty growl of a voice.
He pushed Tony’s legs open, rested them on his shoulders, and then settled down comfortably between them.
Tony gazed up at the ceiling, clenching the sheets in his fingers in anticipation of what was coming.
“Look at me, Tony,” Gibbs ordered, and Tony looked down to see Gibbs gazing at him. “I want you to keep looking at me while I take you,” Gibbs told him. “Don’t take your eyes off me.”
He spread Tony’s buttocks with his hands, and then pressed his hard, lubed cock into Tony’s entrance. He went slowly, and Tony hissed as he breached the ring of muscle and then slid in, deeper, inching his way in. There was a momentary familiar burn, and then Gibbs was inside him, pushing further.
Gibbs adjusted his position, and then, without warning, he thrust in deep, with one big shove of his hips, and at the same time propelled his body forward so that his hands were on either side of Tony’s head, and his body was completely covering Tony’s body, chest against chest, Tony’s cock trapped between their bellies. Gibbs’s eyes were now only a few inches away from Tony’s, and that searching gaze seemed unbearably close.
Gibbs shifted a little, manoeuvring himself into a more comfortable position, and then he thrust in again, right up to the hilt.
Tony had expected to be fucked into the mattress, to be taken fast and hard until he was screaming out his top’s name – but that didn’t happen. All that happened was that Gibbs rested a considerable amount of his body weight on Tony, pushing his hard cock as deep inside him as it was possible to go, and then he stayed there, totally covering Tony with his body, arms resting on either side of Tony’s head.
It felt too close, too intense, and Tony shifted, trying to ease the many different aches in his body, and move away from Gibbs’s searching gaze.
“No, Tony - take it,” Gibbs told him.
Tony stared up at him. Was this some kind of test? How long could Gibbs hold it, he wondered? The man was good but he was only human – how long could he stay this hard without thrusting?
“In case you’re wondering, and I think you are…I can hold it for as long as it takes,” Gibbs told him.
“As long as what takes?” Tony panted, wriggling slightly. Gibbs took hold of Tony’s head between his hands, and held him still.
“I said take it,” he repeated. “I’ll know when we’re done.”
Tony felt as if time had stopped still as he lay there, on his back on the bed, his long legs resting, bent, on Gibbs’s shoulders, his top’s hard cock lodged deep inside him, and Gibbs’s weight on his chest, holding him down. He couldn’t move – he was totally trapped there.
He felt the sweat begin to pour off him. His ass felt as if it had been stretched wide open by the force and weight of his top, and the angle of penetration was so deep that all he could feel was Gibbs’s hard cock inside him, pulsing deep within his body. He longed for the release of Gibbs moving his hips back, even if only for a second and even if he thrust straight back in again, but that didn’t happen.
Instead, Gibbs began to rock gently, which served only to make it feel like his cock was penetrating even deeper into Tony’s body.
“Oh shit,” Tony said, trying to wriggle sideways again – anything to escape the intensity of what was happening.
“Give it up to me, Tony,” Gibbs said. He was holding Tony’s head in his hands, and his thumbs gently stroked over Tony’s cheeks.
“I can’t do this…please…you have to let me up,” Tony begged. Gibbs shook his head.
“Not going to happen,” he said.
Tony had never safe-worded out of a scene in his life but this wasn’t a scene and he was suddenly very aware that he didn’t have a safe-word. Gibbs was going to make him take this and he had no choice but to surrender.
His body ached from being held down, his hole felt stretched as wide as it would go, and he was having a hard time adjusting to the depth of this penetration. He’d been fucked in this position before, but never *pinned*, and held down, and nobody had ever found this particular angle before. He guessed that it was partly because Gibbs’s cock was a good length and breadth, but it was also the precision of the entry. Gibbs had known exactly what he was aiming for when he’d pushed into Tony, and Tony couldn’t help but feel a healthy respect for any top this skilled. Now he really understood why Gibbs felt he didn’t need toys – why would he, when he could work a sub this expertly with just his own body?
End of Part Nineteen
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Hiding in Plain Sight: Part Twenty
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Re-reading
on Aug. 12th, 2011 02:28 am (UTC)Tony was beaten with the buckle end of Jordan's belt yet he had no PTSD type of reaction to the Gibbs' shiny silver belt buckle, in fact he admired it. I know it's Gibbs but PTSD is PTSD.
I really do love this story and it makes me want to watch "Stargate: Atlantis".
Re: Re-reading
on Aug. 12th, 2011 06:27 am (UTC)The collar Jake forces on him in the first collar - that he'd have a life long fear of collars but clearly not everyone fixates in that way every time a bad thing happens. I fell down my garden steps and broke my leg but I don't have a phobia about them or about steps generally. Life isn't that cut and dried.
Sga is great fun and well worth a viewing!
Re: Re-reading
on Aug. 12th, 2011 05:14 pm (UTC)