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Expansive August Meme prompt from Hawk!
Tite: Against Every Odd
Spoilers: All of Season 9
Prompt was: Gibbs/ DiNozzo -- Dirty Dancing
Hope you like!
The bones of this story were written in 2006. A friend and I were working on a massive AU featuring Mac Taylor (CSINY) and Gibbs—eight million words and counting and about fifty stories, some done, some still partials. Sadly, she isn’t writing much any more, so a lot of this material is just languishing on my hard drive.
When I saw Hawk’s prompt, it made sense to take those bones and change to NCIS, since this isn’t likely to ever see the light of day otherwise. Thanks to Ange for helping with the conception of this idea all those years ago!
~*~
Tony hadn’t expected the bombing to change everything. The team was off in the wake of the explosion, three weeks of mandatory leave. Then they’d have to deal with the shrinks and the hope of getting field certified.
That could all wait.
When Tony had arrived home after the meeting with Vance, SecNav, the FBI investgators, he was drained, a little shell shocked and a lot annoyed. Gibbs hadn’t been home, had left NCIS hours ago. Just before Tony had started to worry, Gibbs had shown up, a light in his blue eyes Tony had never seen before. And he’d worked with the guy for ten years, had been involved with him over five.
On and off.
More on than off since he’d come back from being afloat.
Gibbs had handed Tony some shopping bags and said he was going to work some stuff out, and he’d see Tony soon. And then he’d just disappeared, giving Tony a deep kiss, truck revving loudly before pulling out.
Tony had been ready to follow him, until he got a text message. A text message. From GIBBS!
Don’t follow me. Look at the packages and follow the rules.
Tony hadn’t been sure what to expect, and his hands had been shaking a little as he opened the sealed envelope.
Ticket to Puerto Vallarta is here. Flight leaves tonight. Pack whatever you want, but bring the clothes here. Dress in them and meet me at twenty-one hundred tomorrow. Here.
There was an address, a hotel confirmation number, the works. Tony blinked a few times in shock. He knew the bombing had shaken Gibbs up, but he hadn’t expected this. As Tony looked at the ticket, he realized he’d need to rush to make his flight.
Seven days of sun, fun—and Gibbs—awaited!
The leather pants fit like a glove, soft yet constricting enough that he didn’t have to wear underwear—hadn’t been in the bags anyway. Only the pants, the boots and socks and the black T-shirt had been in the bag, a fake ID and wallet filled with twenties in another, though Tony’d traveled here on his own passport. Gibbs had thought of everything—booking them a room at a gay-friendly resort Tony’d mentioned to him months ago. Gibbs had remembered everything.
Tony’d arrived last night, had crashed hard, and had spent most of the day pacing. At nineteen hundred, after eating dinner from room service, Tony started to get ready. Yeah, it was early, but he couldn’t wait any longer.
He’d taken time with his shower, using the cologne that made Gibbs growl, drawing a barely-there thin line around his eyes in green liquid liner. Gibbs hated when Tony glammed up, but a guy had to do a little something once in a while. And with his hair a little spiky, though still soft, the pants fitting him like a second skin, and his lips shiny from all the nervous licking he’d been doing, Tony knew he was hot.
He leaned against the bar and ordered a beer. The club wasn’t too busy yet, most of the crowd were suited yuppies, checking him out, small clusters of guys of all ages. The tourists would probably be here a little later.
Tony had been working out a lot more lately and he knew his body, especially his torso, showed the fruits of his labors. And the T-shirt was snug over his biceps. A few men gave him speculative looks, promises shining in their eyes, but Tony looked away every time. He was only interested in one man—Gibbs.
Even though Gibbs’ instructions had told him to be there at nine, it was clear his lover was going to make him wait. He was probably in some secluded corner trying to wait him out. Tony peered into the shadows, but couldn’t see more than fairly indistinct forms, a flash of skin, a hand working on a swollen organ. So it was this kind of place! Tony found himself wondering how Gibbs had discovered this place, but realized that in the end it didn’t really matter.
He sighed, trying to stay still, to not fidget, to center himself. Gibbs prized patience and discipline, and that had come out more strongly in the wake of the bombing. He needed a break. Hell, they all did.
Tony would wait Gibbs out—he had until Gibbs had come to him one night, need and lust in his eyes. He’d thrown Tony down, rewarding his patience with the fuck of his life. Everything had changed that night—and Tony had a feeling they were taking their relationship to another level.
So he’d try to be patient—let Gibbs do the hunter thing he loved and needed. The payoff would be much stronger.
Tony surveyed the crowd for over ninety minutes, fending off numerous advances and offers with a disarming smile and shy gaze. He’d worked that look, perfecting it, a counterpoint to his flirtatiousness. Gibbs called it his Little Boy Lost look and it never failed to work. He kept himself primed by the thought of being here with Gibbs out in the open. It was a luxury that they could never have risked near home.
At eleven, Tony started to become mildly concerned. Had Gibbs’ flight been delayed or had something else? Abby and Ducky needed him more than ever—a call from them could have kept Gibbs in DC. Barely resisting the urge to find a pay phone—counter to Gibbs’ rules, Tony had been told to leave his cell phone behind— Tony jumped when a hand splayed at his waist, warm breath against his neck. Every nerve ending in his body jolted, and Tony barely held back his groan.
“Come here often?”
The line was cheesy, but Gibbs’ voice, pitched in that husky tone, made Tony tip back his head, offering his throat to the hunter. Curiosity overtook growing desire and he focused in on Gibbs, looking him over, trying to control the need suddenly throbbing in the tight leather pants.
His lover looked incredible. Tight blue jeans, worn boots and a black shirt open at the throat. Yeah, he looked damn good. The look in his eyes was a little wild, a feral edge Tony was drawn to.
Gibbs shifted, cocking a hip closer to Tony, nudging him with his thigh. “Good to see ya follow instructions, boy.” A finger traced over his biceps and Tony barely resisted the urge to contract the muscle. It was a primal, animal reaction, wanting to preen for his lover.
“Yeah. What else have I had to do in my free time since…” Tony trailed off, shaking his head. Way to ruin the mood! “I missed you.”
They hadn’t been together since Dearing had started his crap—too many long nights working, and then them dealing with Ducky’s near death, everyone’s injuries in the bombing—physical and emotional. There hadn’t been time—or desire.
“I know. Missed you too. Here now. Both of us.”
Tony laced his fingers in the loops of Gibbs’s jeans and pulled him flush against him. “What are you waiting for then?”
Gibbs’ blue eyes fluttered shut and he framed Tony’s face in his hands before leaning in and brushing a tender kiss over his lips. Tony’s hips bucked and he started to wrap his arms around Gibbs, but his lover pulled back, shaking his head, a sardonic smile on his lips.
“My rules, boy. You do what I say tonight. Understand?”
“Yes,” Tony said softly. He should have expected this. Sometimes he and Gibbs played with power games, but there was something just under the surface tonight—Gibbs needed this.
Needed Tony.
It was a gift and one he wasn’t about to ignore.
“Yes what, DiNozzo?”
A thrill ran through him at Gibb’s tone and he looked down at the ground, arranging his features and body language into something much less confident. “Yes, sir.”
“Good boy. We’re alone here—nobody knows us. Nobody cares. Kiss me.”
Tony lunged close, hungry for the feel of Gibbs’ body against his. Unable to be completely submissive right now, he pressed his mouth aggressively on Gibbs’ until the other man’s lips parted. Tony sensed that Gibbs needed him to be an equal tonight, to push back a few times. It’d help Gibbs exert control and re-center them both Maybe Gibbs wasn’t the only one who needed this.
“Mmm.” The sound was one of complete satisfaction and went right to Tony’s cock. It had been too long and his body needed more stimulus than just his hand. “You taste like sex, boy. You taste like mine.”
“Yours,” Tony groaned into Gibbs’ mouth, wrapping his arms around the other man. They were only an inch or so apart in height and they fit together perfectly. They always had, though their emotions clashed and sparked off each other at times.
They could have lost each other. So damn easily. What the hell had he been thinking, going into the elevator? It was a damn miracle that they’d only had bumps and bruises, superficial cuts.
They could have—should have—lost each other so many times. The Y Pestis, the bombing that had put Gibbs into a coma. Shootings. The bombing at NCIS.
Tony poured all his need, desire, and desperation into that kiss, his hands digging into Gibbs’ scalp, body rocking against his lover’s. The warm solidity of Gibb’s chest, the muscular thighs straining against him, and the hot, warm mouth tangling with his all reaffirmed that they were alive.
That they were together thanks to so miracle of fate.
Tony pulled his head away, panting. Gibbs’ gaze was wide and slightly unfocused—he was just as impacted as Tony, by both the sexual need and emotional desire. And Tony wanted to break the mood, to lessen it a little.
“Come on, let’s dance.” Tony pulled Gibbs onto the dance floor, his lover just shaking his head, though he didn’t resist, didn’t dig in and refuse. Dancing wasn’t really Gibbs’ style, but Tony wanted more than to just make out in a quiet area of the bar.
He wanted to celebrate their lives. The fact that they were alive, they were here, and they were together.
Against all odds.
As the music poured over them, Tony led Gibbs to an only moderately packed area of the dance floor, the lights flashing, the bass pounding. Didn’t matter—this was about him and Gibbs.
Against every odd in the world.
Tony shifted and pressed their groins together. Soon, Gibbs hand was clenching his ass and he was riding his lover’s leg, the muscular thigh and lack of underwear causing enough friction to have him burning in no time. They were grinding more than dancing, rubbing anxiously against straining cocks, desperate, needy.
Hungry.
Just a little feral.
Tony’s thigh found Gibbs just as hard and ready, heat branding him through denim and leather. Tony allowed his head to drop back, Jet’s mouth on his throat, marking him, and Gibbs took the bait, biting, licking, sucking.
Marking.
Taking.
There was no doubt who he belonged to. Who owned his responses.
“You two are hot,” someone commented, bringing Tony back to the moment. Gibbs gave him a smug little grin, the hunter confident in his abilities to catch and keep Tony.
Not much of a fight at all, if Tony gave it serious thought. He was Gibbs’ from the moment the other man said he didn’t waste good.
“Want a drink? I’m feeling the need for a couple of body shots.”
Was he joking? Of course Tony wanted a drink. But Gibbs? Body shots? PDA? Grinding against each other in public? This was not Gibbs’ standard SOP. But ass long as he could drink or eat alcohol off Gibbs’ flesh, he was up for anything, anything at all.
“Roll with it,” Gibbs whispered, licking Tony’s earlobe. Tony’s entire body convulsed and he groaned low.
Gibbs led him over to the bar, a hand possessively in the small of his back, marking his territory. “I thought only animals did that, staked a claim.” Tony couldn’t resist pushing a little.
Gibbs growled, spinning Tony around to face him.
“You want me to mark you, boy? It’d just be a matter of you and me in a dark corner for a couple of minutes and you’d be wearing a necklace.” He arched a dark brow. “I watched you for an hour, leaking all the time at the sight of you, rubbing my cock out in the open here. My jeans smell like sex.
Tony swallowed hard. Gibbs had always been a little reckless, a bit of a daredevil, but they’d never done anything that could have gotten them arrested. Then again, in the club it seemed like an anything goes atmosphere. And he and Gibbs needed each other so damn badly.
Tony shook at the sound of Gibbs’ voice, the words, the edge of danger surrounding them both.
They were in a foreign country, Tony had a fake ID and he was sure Gibbs did too. And they were in a club where he’d seen more balls and ass than he usually did at his health club. And that was saying something.
What did they have to lose?
“Get on the bar, DiNozzo”
“On…the bar?”
“You heard me. Do it.” There was a small group of men around them already, the atmosphere charged. Gibbs was a gorgeous man, and they’d gotten their share of looks as they’d been grinding.
From what Tony had seen, anyway. He’d been kinda busy…
Tony stretched out, propping his head up on an elbow.
“Body shots,” Gibbs began in the goddamn sexiest voice Tony could imagine. Gibbs’ pupils were blown, and he was as out of control as Tony could imagine. The danger was turning him on, maybe even more than Gibbs.
Gibbs tore his t-shirt from his pants and unbuttoned the top button of Tony’s fly, stretching the leather slightly. The cold air over his abdominal muscles, his cock barely restrained, was a huge turn on.
Gibbs took a lemon and carefully smeared its juice over Tony’s abdomen. He splashed a bit of club soda on his hands and then gently, tenderly lifted Tony’s cock out of the leather constraints. He nipped and licked his way down to Tony’s cock head, reaching for a shot glass.
Fuuuck! They were gonna do this here? With Tony exposed? It was almost enough to make him come. The danger, the need, Gibbs’ wild side—there had been so much repressed when they’d been struggling to put one foot in front of the other.
Now it was bursting forth, unleashed, a wild thing that needed to be fed.
Or else it would destroy them both.
“Ready?”
Tony had propped himself up, legs splayed wide open, watching Gibbs, aware that they had an audience. And damn if that didn’t turn him on so much more. His lover started tonguing his cock head, then gulped the tequila, sucking Tony’s head into his mouth and swallowing him and the shot in one endless gulp.
“God!” The atmosphere, the unexpectedness, of his lover’s gift, all he could do was hang on and ride out the most intense orgasm of his life. The fact that twenty other men surrounded them, looking at them with both admiration and hunger, the fact that they were able to do this in semi-public…Tony was completely lost. He tugged Gibbs down on top of him, kissing him deeply, tasting both the tequila and his own come.
“I need you,” Tony said desperately. “Let’s go back to the hotel. I think we’ve broken a few laws here already. Let’s not get arrested.”
“Um, guys?” the bartender broke in. “We have a room in the back, glass. Invitation only. If you ever want to…”
Maybe some day. Maybe later.
They’d take that chance, but not now. “Thanks. But I need him all to myself right now.”
Gibbs lifted himself off Tony, slipping to the ground with more grace than Tony would have expected. There was a huge wet spot by Gibbs’ distended cock—right at the head. His lover was leaking, but not there yet.
Tony was gonna make him yell when he exploded, preferably up Tony’s ass. But mouths were okay. Yeah, mouths were good. So were hands. Didn’t matter, as long as he had Gibbs.
“Thanks,” he whispered, knowing that Gibbs would understand he wasn’t only thanking him for the sex.
But more. Much more.
“Stared this vacation off with a bang,” Gibbs remarked.
“Is there more?”
“Best is yet to come.”
Tite: Against Every Odd
Spoilers: All of Season 9
Prompt was: Gibbs/ DiNozzo -- Dirty Dancing
Hope you like!
The bones of this story were written in 2006. A friend and I were working on a massive AU featuring Mac Taylor (CSINY) and Gibbs—eight million words and counting and about fifty stories, some done, some still partials. Sadly, she isn’t writing much any more, so a lot of this material is just languishing on my hard drive.
When I saw Hawk’s prompt, it made sense to take those bones and change to NCIS, since this isn’t likely to ever see the light of day otherwise. Thanks to Ange for helping with the conception of this idea all those years ago!
~*~
Tony hadn’t expected the bombing to change everything. The team was off in the wake of the explosion, three weeks of mandatory leave. Then they’d have to deal with the shrinks and the hope of getting field certified.
That could all wait.
When Tony had arrived home after the meeting with Vance, SecNav, the FBI investgators, he was drained, a little shell shocked and a lot annoyed. Gibbs hadn’t been home, had left NCIS hours ago. Just before Tony had started to worry, Gibbs had shown up, a light in his blue eyes Tony had never seen before. And he’d worked with the guy for ten years, had been involved with him over five.
On and off.
More on than off since he’d come back from being afloat.
Gibbs had handed Tony some shopping bags and said he was going to work some stuff out, and he’d see Tony soon. And then he’d just disappeared, giving Tony a deep kiss, truck revving loudly before pulling out.
Tony had been ready to follow him, until he got a text message. A text message. From GIBBS!
Don’t follow me. Look at the packages and follow the rules.
Tony hadn’t been sure what to expect, and his hands had been shaking a little as he opened the sealed envelope.
Ticket to Puerto Vallarta is here. Flight leaves tonight. Pack whatever you want, but bring the clothes here. Dress in them and meet me at twenty-one hundred tomorrow. Here.
There was an address, a hotel confirmation number, the works. Tony blinked a few times in shock. He knew the bombing had shaken Gibbs up, but he hadn’t expected this. As Tony looked at the ticket, he realized he’d need to rush to make his flight.
Seven days of sun, fun—and Gibbs—awaited!
The leather pants fit like a glove, soft yet constricting enough that he didn’t have to wear underwear—hadn’t been in the bags anyway. Only the pants, the boots and socks and the black T-shirt had been in the bag, a fake ID and wallet filled with twenties in another, though Tony’d traveled here on his own passport. Gibbs had thought of everything—booking them a room at a gay-friendly resort Tony’d mentioned to him months ago. Gibbs had remembered everything.
Tony’d arrived last night, had crashed hard, and had spent most of the day pacing. At nineteen hundred, after eating dinner from room service, Tony started to get ready. Yeah, it was early, but he couldn’t wait any longer.
He’d taken time with his shower, using the cologne that made Gibbs growl, drawing a barely-there thin line around his eyes in green liquid liner. Gibbs hated when Tony glammed up, but a guy had to do a little something once in a while. And with his hair a little spiky, though still soft, the pants fitting him like a second skin, and his lips shiny from all the nervous licking he’d been doing, Tony knew he was hot.
He leaned against the bar and ordered a beer. The club wasn’t too busy yet, most of the crowd were suited yuppies, checking him out, small clusters of guys of all ages. The tourists would probably be here a little later.
Tony had been working out a lot more lately and he knew his body, especially his torso, showed the fruits of his labors. And the T-shirt was snug over his biceps. A few men gave him speculative looks, promises shining in their eyes, but Tony looked away every time. He was only interested in one man—Gibbs.
Even though Gibbs’ instructions had told him to be there at nine, it was clear his lover was going to make him wait. He was probably in some secluded corner trying to wait him out. Tony peered into the shadows, but couldn’t see more than fairly indistinct forms, a flash of skin, a hand working on a swollen organ. So it was this kind of place! Tony found himself wondering how Gibbs had discovered this place, but realized that in the end it didn’t really matter.
He sighed, trying to stay still, to not fidget, to center himself. Gibbs prized patience and discipline, and that had come out more strongly in the wake of the bombing. He needed a break. Hell, they all did.
Tony would wait Gibbs out—he had until Gibbs had come to him one night, need and lust in his eyes. He’d thrown Tony down, rewarding his patience with the fuck of his life. Everything had changed that night—and Tony had a feeling they were taking their relationship to another level.
So he’d try to be patient—let Gibbs do the hunter thing he loved and needed. The payoff would be much stronger.
Tony surveyed the crowd for over ninety minutes, fending off numerous advances and offers with a disarming smile and shy gaze. He’d worked that look, perfecting it, a counterpoint to his flirtatiousness. Gibbs called it his Little Boy Lost look and it never failed to work. He kept himself primed by the thought of being here with Gibbs out in the open. It was a luxury that they could never have risked near home.
At eleven, Tony started to become mildly concerned. Had Gibbs’ flight been delayed or had something else? Abby and Ducky needed him more than ever—a call from them could have kept Gibbs in DC. Barely resisting the urge to find a pay phone—counter to Gibbs’ rules, Tony had been told to leave his cell phone behind— Tony jumped when a hand splayed at his waist, warm breath against his neck. Every nerve ending in his body jolted, and Tony barely held back his groan.
“Come here often?”
The line was cheesy, but Gibbs’ voice, pitched in that husky tone, made Tony tip back his head, offering his throat to the hunter. Curiosity overtook growing desire and he focused in on Gibbs, looking him over, trying to control the need suddenly throbbing in the tight leather pants.
His lover looked incredible. Tight blue jeans, worn boots and a black shirt open at the throat. Yeah, he looked damn good. The look in his eyes was a little wild, a feral edge Tony was drawn to.
Gibbs shifted, cocking a hip closer to Tony, nudging him with his thigh. “Good to see ya follow instructions, boy.” A finger traced over his biceps and Tony barely resisted the urge to contract the muscle. It was a primal, animal reaction, wanting to preen for his lover.
“Yeah. What else have I had to do in my free time since…” Tony trailed off, shaking his head. Way to ruin the mood! “I missed you.”
They hadn’t been together since Dearing had started his crap—too many long nights working, and then them dealing with Ducky’s near death, everyone’s injuries in the bombing—physical and emotional. There hadn’t been time—or desire.
“I know. Missed you too. Here now. Both of us.”
Tony laced his fingers in the loops of Gibbs’s jeans and pulled him flush against him. “What are you waiting for then?”
Gibbs’ blue eyes fluttered shut and he framed Tony’s face in his hands before leaning in and brushing a tender kiss over his lips. Tony’s hips bucked and he started to wrap his arms around Gibbs, but his lover pulled back, shaking his head, a sardonic smile on his lips.
“My rules, boy. You do what I say tonight. Understand?”
“Yes,” Tony said softly. He should have expected this. Sometimes he and Gibbs played with power games, but there was something just under the surface tonight—Gibbs needed this.
Needed Tony.
It was a gift and one he wasn’t about to ignore.
“Yes what, DiNozzo?”
A thrill ran through him at Gibb’s tone and he looked down at the ground, arranging his features and body language into something much less confident. “Yes, sir.”
“Good boy. We’re alone here—nobody knows us. Nobody cares. Kiss me.”
Tony lunged close, hungry for the feel of Gibbs’ body against his. Unable to be completely submissive right now, he pressed his mouth aggressively on Gibbs’ until the other man’s lips parted. Tony sensed that Gibbs needed him to be an equal tonight, to push back a few times. It’d help Gibbs exert control and re-center them both Maybe Gibbs wasn’t the only one who needed this.
“Mmm.” The sound was one of complete satisfaction and went right to Tony’s cock. It had been too long and his body needed more stimulus than just his hand. “You taste like sex, boy. You taste like mine.”
“Yours,” Tony groaned into Gibbs’ mouth, wrapping his arms around the other man. They were only an inch or so apart in height and they fit together perfectly. They always had, though their emotions clashed and sparked off each other at times.
They could have lost each other. So damn easily. What the hell had he been thinking, going into the elevator? It was a damn miracle that they’d only had bumps and bruises, superficial cuts.
They could have—should have—lost each other so many times. The Y Pestis, the bombing that had put Gibbs into a coma. Shootings. The bombing at NCIS.
Tony poured all his need, desire, and desperation into that kiss, his hands digging into Gibbs’ scalp, body rocking against his lover’s. The warm solidity of Gibb’s chest, the muscular thighs straining against him, and the hot, warm mouth tangling with his all reaffirmed that they were alive.
That they were together thanks to so miracle of fate.
Tony pulled his head away, panting. Gibbs’ gaze was wide and slightly unfocused—he was just as impacted as Tony, by both the sexual need and emotional desire. And Tony wanted to break the mood, to lessen it a little.
“Come on, let’s dance.” Tony pulled Gibbs onto the dance floor, his lover just shaking his head, though he didn’t resist, didn’t dig in and refuse. Dancing wasn’t really Gibbs’ style, but Tony wanted more than to just make out in a quiet area of the bar.
He wanted to celebrate their lives. The fact that they were alive, they were here, and they were together.
Against all odds.
As the music poured over them, Tony led Gibbs to an only moderately packed area of the dance floor, the lights flashing, the bass pounding. Didn’t matter—this was about him and Gibbs.
Against every odd in the world.
Tony shifted and pressed their groins together. Soon, Gibbs hand was clenching his ass and he was riding his lover’s leg, the muscular thigh and lack of underwear causing enough friction to have him burning in no time. They were grinding more than dancing, rubbing anxiously against straining cocks, desperate, needy.
Hungry.
Just a little feral.
Tony’s thigh found Gibbs just as hard and ready, heat branding him through denim and leather. Tony allowed his head to drop back, Jet’s mouth on his throat, marking him, and Gibbs took the bait, biting, licking, sucking.
Marking.
Taking.
There was no doubt who he belonged to. Who owned his responses.
“You two are hot,” someone commented, bringing Tony back to the moment. Gibbs gave him a smug little grin, the hunter confident in his abilities to catch and keep Tony.
Not much of a fight at all, if Tony gave it serious thought. He was Gibbs’ from the moment the other man said he didn’t waste good.
“Want a drink? I’m feeling the need for a couple of body shots.”
Was he joking? Of course Tony wanted a drink. But Gibbs? Body shots? PDA? Grinding against each other in public? This was not Gibbs’ standard SOP. But ass long as he could drink or eat alcohol off Gibbs’ flesh, he was up for anything, anything at all.
“Roll with it,” Gibbs whispered, licking Tony’s earlobe. Tony’s entire body convulsed and he groaned low.
Gibbs led him over to the bar, a hand possessively in the small of his back, marking his territory. “I thought only animals did that, staked a claim.” Tony couldn’t resist pushing a little.
Gibbs growled, spinning Tony around to face him.
“You want me to mark you, boy? It’d just be a matter of you and me in a dark corner for a couple of minutes and you’d be wearing a necklace.” He arched a dark brow. “I watched you for an hour, leaking all the time at the sight of you, rubbing my cock out in the open here. My jeans smell like sex.
Tony swallowed hard. Gibbs had always been a little reckless, a bit of a daredevil, but they’d never done anything that could have gotten them arrested. Then again, in the club it seemed like an anything goes atmosphere. And he and Gibbs needed each other so damn badly.
Tony shook at the sound of Gibbs’ voice, the words, the edge of danger surrounding them both.
They were in a foreign country, Tony had a fake ID and he was sure Gibbs did too. And they were in a club where he’d seen more balls and ass than he usually did at his health club. And that was saying something.
What did they have to lose?
“Get on the bar, DiNozzo”
“On…the bar?”
“You heard me. Do it.” There was a small group of men around them already, the atmosphere charged. Gibbs was a gorgeous man, and they’d gotten their share of looks as they’d been grinding.
From what Tony had seen, anyway. He’d been kinda busy…
Tony stretched out, propping his head up on an elbow.
“Body shots,” Gibbs began in the goddamn sexiest voice Tony could imagine. Gibbs’ pupils were blown, and he was as out of control as Tony could imagine. The danger was turning him on, maybe even more than Gibbs.
Gibbs tore his t-shirt from his pants and unbuttoned the top button of Tony’s fly, stretching the leather slightly. The cold air over his abdominal muscles, his cock barely restrained, was a huge turn on.
Gibbs took a lemon and carefully smeared its juice over Tony’s abdomen. He splashed a bit of club soda on his hands and then gently, tenderly lifted Tony’s cock out of the leather constraints. He nipped and licked his way down to Tony’s cock head, reaching for a shot glass.
Fuuuck! They were gonna do this here? With Tony exposed? It was almost enough to make him come. The danger, the need, Gibbs’ wild side—there had been so much repressed when they’d been struggling to put one foot in front of the other.
Now it was bursting forth, unleashed, a wild thing that needed to be fed.
Or else it would destroy them both.
“Ready?”
Tony had propped himself up, legs splayed wide open, watching Gibbs, aware that they had an audience. And damn if that didn’t turn him on so much more. His lover started tonguing his cock head, then gulped the tequila, sucking Tony’s head into his mouth and swallowing him and the shot in one endless gulp.
“God!” The atmosphere, the unexpectedness, of his lover’s gift, all he could do was hang on and ride out the most intense orgasm of his life. The fact that twenty other men surrounded them, looking at them with both admiration and hunger, the fact that they were able to do this in semi-public…Tony was completely lost. He tugged Gibbs down on top of him, kissing him deeply, tasting both the tequila and his own come.
“I need you,” Tony said desperately. “Let’s go back to the hotel. I think we’ve broken a few laws here already. Let’s not get arrested.”
“Um, guys?” the bartender broke in. “We have a room in the back, glass. Invitation only. If you ever want to…”
Maybe some day. Maybe later.
They’d take that chance, but not now. “Thanks. But I need him all to myself right now.”
Gibbs lifted himself off Tony, slipping to the ground with more grace than Tony would have expected. There was a huge wet spot by Gibbs’ distended cock—right at the head. His lover was leaking, but not there yet.
Tony was gonna make him yell when he exploded, preferably up Tony’s ass. But mouths were okay. Yeah, mouths were good. So were hands. Didn’t matter, as long as he had Gibbs.
“Thanks,” he whispered, knowing that Gibbs would understand he wasn’t only thanking him for the sex.
But more. Much more.
“Stared this vacation off with a bang,” Gibbs remarked.
“Is there more?”
“Best is yet to come.”
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Very hot!!! Thank God the temps had dropped here today otherwise I'd be mush.
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