3. tejas Tony/Gibbs Pre-series (but after canon first meeting) - First time.
Tony had been worried about Gibbs, but he didn’t say much. Gibbs was too pissed about Blackadder, and even though she’d been sent packing, he’d growled and yelled until after Tony’d filed his reports hours later.
Then he’d gone home, stumbling a little before he reached the elevator. And Tony remembered the blow Gibbs had taken and the fall. Someone really should watch over him, Tony rationalized. Even though Ducky hadn’t seen any signs of concussion.
Tony called in an order of Chinese, and picked up some beer, trying to squelch his worry. What he needed to do was go home, do some laundry, sleep. Instead, he found himself in Alexandria at the mom and pop Chinese place Gibbs loved so much.
Tony didn’t call ahead, didn’t warn Gibbs at all. He just pulled up and let himself in quietly. The shower was running and Gibbs was nowhere to be found, so Tony opened the containers and popped the top on a couple of beers, sitting at the table and waiting for Gibbs.
The shower went off and Tony heard a few footfalls, then Gibbs was coming down the stairs, dressed only in a towel.
A towel?
Oh god! Tony could only stare at the planes of Gibbs’ chest, the six pack—god, he had a six pack! And the blue towel wrapped around his slim hips, the color echoing the ice of Gibbs’ eyes. Bare legs, bare feet. Only a towel.
Oh god! Gibbs was thisclose to naked.
“Go home, DiNozzo.”
“Brought Chinese,” Tony said helpfully, trying not to look, unable to wrench his gaze away.
“Go home,” Gibbs repeated, a growl in his voice now.
“Not with good Chinese to eat,” Tony replied, trying to disarm Gibbs and lightening the mood.
Gibbs grabbed his arm with ninja stealth and speed and Tony suddenly found himself on his feet, pressed against the wall, with Gibbs pinning him there and…
That sure as hell wasn’t a gun pressing against Tony’s very interested body. Gibbs was hard. Oh fuck, Gibbs was hard!
Tony had hoped that he hadn’t misread Gibbs’ interested looks, but he hadn’t allowed himself to think he might have a shot with bossman.
Oh God!
“Get. Out.” There was a growl there, sure, but there was also a breathy quality to Gibbs’ voice.
“No,” Tony replied, barely keeping his voice steady. Gibbs’ torso and hips—and hard dick, no less—were pinning Tony in place, but he had use of his hands and he reached up, pushing palms against Gibbs’ shoulders.
“Playin’ with fire.”
“Italian. Mediterranean complexion. I like getting burned, Gibbs.”
One side of Gibbs’ mouth hitched up in a grin. “Can feel that,” Gibbs allowed, punctuating his words with a hip thrust.
“I…” All intelligent thought drained into Tony’s cock, which waved hello to his new friend.
“You what?” Gibbs asked, a seductive edge to his voice. He began a circling motion against Tony’s cock, rubbing his thigh, his hip.
“Too much! Not enough, Boss…”
“Yeah?”
“Fuck me.”
What? Tony never bottomed! Never! So why was he asking…?
Duh, because it was Gibbs.
Tony met Gibbs’ eyes, knowing the other man was probably more aware of his thought processes than himself. Gibbs knew him so damn well, and all of a sudden that irritated Tony.
“What?” he snapped, unable to hide his annoyance.
“Been waitin’ since Baltimore for you to ask that.”
“You have?” Tony gaped.
“Don’t waste good, DiNozzo. And you’re good. I’m gonna see just how good.” Gibbs hand came up, running through Tony’s hair. “Eat first. You’re gonna need that energy.”
Playing with Fire
Tony had been worried about Gibbs, but he didn’t say much. Gibbs was too pissed about Blackadder, and even though she’d been sent packing, he’d growled and yelled until after Tony’d filed his reports hours later.
Then he’d gone home, stumbling a little before he reached the elevator. And Tony remembered the blow Gibbs had taken and the fall. Someone really should watch over him, Tony rationalized. Even though Ducky hadn’t seen any signs of concussion.
Tony called in an order of Chinese, and picked up some beer, trying to squelch his worry. What he needed to do was go home, do some laundry, sleep. Instead, he found himself in Alexandria at the mom and pop Chinese place Gibbs loved so much.
Tony didn’t call ahead, didn’t warn Gibbs at all. He just pulled up and let himself in quietly. The shower was running and Gibbs was nowhere to be found, so Tony opened the containers and popped the top on a couple of beers, sitting at the table and waiting for Gibbs.
The shower went off and Tony heard a few footfalls, then Gibbs was coming down the stairs, dressed only in a towel.
A towel?
Oh god! Tony could only stare at the planes of Gibbs’ chest, the six pack—god, he had a six pack! And the blue towel wrapped around his slim hips, the color echoing the ice of Gibbs’ eyes. Bare legs, bare feet. Only a towel.
Oh god! Gibbs was thisclose to naked.
“Go home, DiNozzo.”
“Brought Chinese,” Tony said helpfully, trying not to look, unable to wrench his gaze away.
“Go home,” Gibbs repeated, a growl in his voice now.
“Not with good Chinese to eat,” Tony replied, trying to disarm Gibbs and lightening the mood.
Gibbs grabbed his arm with ninja stealth and speed and Tony suddenly found himself on his feet, pressed against the wall, with Gibbs pinning him there and…
That sure as hell wasn’t a gun pressing against Tony’s very interested body. Gibbs was hard. Oh fuck, Gibbs was hard!
Tony had hoped that he hadn’t misread Gibbs’ interested looks, but he hadn’t allowed himself to think he might have a shot with bossman.
Oh God!
“Get. Out.” There was a growl there, sure, but there was also a breathy quality to Gibbs’ voice.
“No,” Tony replied, barely keeping his voice steady. Gibbs’ torso and hips—and hard dick, no less—were pinning Tony in place, but he had use of his hands and he reached up, pushing palms against Gibbs’ shoulders.
“Playin’ with fire.”
“Italian. Mediterranean complexion. I like getting burned, Gibbs.”
One side of Gibbs’ mouth hitched up in a grin. “Can feel that,” Gibbs allowed, punctuating his words with a hip thrust.
“I…” All intelligent thought drained into Tony’s cock, which waved hello to his new friend.
“You what?” Gibbs asked, a seductive edge to his voice. He began a circling motion against Tony’s cock, rubbing his thigh, his hip.
“Too much! Not enough, Boss…”
“Yeah?”
“Fuck me.”
What? Tony never bottomed! Never! So why was he asking…?
Duh, because it was Gibbs.
Tony met Gibbs’ eyes, knowing the other man was probably more aware of his thought processes than himself. Gibbs knew him so damn well, and all of a sudden that irritated Tony.
“What?” he snapped, unable to hide his annoyance.
“Been waitin’ since Baltimore for you to ask that.”
“You have?” Tony gaped.
“Don’t waste good, DiNozzo. And you’re good. I’m gonna see just how good.” Gibbs hand came up, running through Tony’s hair. “Eat first. You’re gonna need that energy.”
“On it, Boss.”