Distress

Chapter 12: Possession

Gibbs found himself staring, unseeing, at the row of pegs perfectly aligned along the hull. They looked just like all the other rows. But he had no memory of drilling the holes, sanding, tapping the pegs in with the rubber hammer to just the right depth, trimming, sanding.

He was cold. He must have been standing there a long time. Thinking.

Last night wasn't their first argument, but it probably was their first fight. It hadn't gone down like any fight he had ever known.


"Hey, Gibbs! Chinese okay?" Tony breezed into the house, kicking the door shut behind him with his foot. When he didn't get an answer, he moved through the hall to dump the bag on the kitchen table, automatically checking for a light on in the basement. It was dark although the kitchen light was on, so he turned, calling, "Gibbs! Anyone—" He caught sight of the man in question sitting in the twilight of the living room, waiting, apparently. "—home?" He finished his question, lamely. "You...okay?"

Tony reached over to turn on a light.

"Don't." Gibbs voice was low and Tony thought he sounded angry.

Tony wasn't about to fight in the dark. He hadn't done anything wrong that he could think of and while he didn't know what Gibbs was angry about, he couldn't decide how to play this if he couldn't see Gibbs' expression. With a flick of a wrist, he turned the light on.

"I said, don't." Gibbs stood, his body loose. A fighter's pose. But he didn't move to turn off the light.

Tony's eyes flickered over Jethro's face and body, looking for clues. Finally, he went old-school and asked. "Why are you mad?"

"Who said I'm mad?"

Tony snorted. "Yeah, because you usually growl at me and order me around when I walk through the door with Chinese food."

Gibbs' face was set but his eyes narrowed a little. Tony watched him think and then shake it off, shake something off.

"It's nothing, Tony. Let's just eat." He started toward the kitchen but Tony grabbed his arm. Gibbs stopped and looked pointedly down at Tony's hand on his skin.

"No. You don't get to—why are you mad at me?"

"I don't know if I can do this, Tony."

Tony's gut clenched. Not again. He took a breath. Let it out. "Gibbs, what has changed in the last twelve hours?"

"I just..." Gibbs ran his hand through his hair, blew out through his nose, but didn't shake Tony off. "I am a possessive bastard. You know that, right? You know that. Knew that. This shouldn't be a surprise." He yanked his arm out of Tony's grasp, but just as quickly, Tony spun and switched hands.

Now, Tony had Gibbs' left arm in his right hand, high up, by his elbow, and they were face to face, chest to chest. Gibbs grunted. "You are walking a thin line, DiNozzo."

Tony pulled harder, shifted side to side to rub against Jethro, feeling the pressure build in his belly. His voice was soft but deliberate. "No I'm not. I'm fucking crossing it." His inch or so of height on Jethro was leveraged as he pushed the other man back against the wall. Tony's mouth was hard and demanding.

It felt too good to stop right away so Gibbs allowed it for a minute, trying to regain the upper hand. But time and time again, Tony's mouth, his tongue, his hand against Jethro's chest, won. Gibbs wasn't sure what battle he was even fighting anymore but some part of his brain was surprised at Tony's quickness. Of course, if Gibbs really wanted to get free he could. Tony's hand gripped his face, the back of his jaw. Gibbs felt his head forced back, and his mouth opened.

Jesus, the man could kiss. Gibbs had almost forgotten his anger.

Tony, for his part, was fighting for his life. He didn't know what made Gibbs' balk but he was too far in to let him go this way. Maybe in the daylight, with cool words, logic, he could reorganize the furniture of his heart , as a therapist once put it. Where other people's hearts were homes that came furnished with the appointments of love, the habit of affection, of touch and comfort, Tony's was not. He had to make his own furniture. He thought more than once that he would have given anything for even furniture that other people would discard—the little irritations and affectations among family that are ignored: leaving the faucet to drip, forgetting to turn off the heat, never taking the trash out. Tony had to build the place where his heart lived brick by brick and had, finally.

Gibbs had stayed with him longer than anyone ever had, hadn't pushed him away when Tony's nervous chatter had filled his peaceful home. Gibbs hadn't chafed at Tony's need for physical and emotional closeness. He seemed to like him still, in the morning, at the end of the day. The thing was, that this was Tony's first time just as much as it was Gibbs. Oh it wasn't his first time with a man, but it was the first time that someone had chosen to be with him after more than a few weeks.

And Gibbs was trying to take that away. Over what? The hungry beast in Tony's gut knew he could force Gibbs, get him to beg for physical intimacy. But Tony had protected and cared for Gibbs too long to do that. He reined himself in, breathing heavily against the other man's face, forehead touching Gibbs'.

"Why are you mad at me?"

"I told you I don't share. I'm possessive."

Tony's laugh against his face made Gibbs shiver; Tony's grip tightened and then, deliberately, his hands gentled, no longer hurting but still holding Gibbs firmly. "Gibbs, you don't know the meaning of possession." And his lips crushed the other man's, drew out the brutal kiss until Gibbs was panting, holding in his moans by force of will, but unable to slow his breathing. Tony let the question of which man was more possessive go.

"What made you feel possessive? You think I am cheating on you?" The thought was ludicrous. Wanting someone else?

"You flirt all the time. I get that. It's part of who you are—"

You have no idea, thought Tony.

" —but today, it was like you went out of your way, and that store owner…" Gibbs trailed off. They were speaking against each other's faces, comfortable in each other's space. Tony wished now that he hadn't turned the light on. In the dark it would be more intimate. He felt the grinding of desire fueled by his own reaction to being threatened. He wanted to fuck Gibbs with his fingers. Just his fingers. Standing up, face to face like this, so he could watch, see the emotion play across Gibbs' face. Tony leaned forward just the tiniest bit, let his mouth move along the column of Gibbs' throat, letting his teeth bite and run gently down the tendon. This time Gibbs' shiver caused him to buck against Tony. Tony lapped at the hollow of Gibbs throat, like at ice cream, the flat of his tongue marking Gibbs wetly. He couldn't get enough and Gibbs wasn't holding back, was making sounds.

Tony moved one arm to stretch across Gibbs' chest. He would wait for Gibbs agreement, but he wasn't ready to let go yet. Gibbs was his. Tony growled against Gibbs' mouth, a mouth that was already kissing his mouth sweetly, asking for more, begging for more. Tony groaned, "Gibbs, I am yours, all yours. Are we done talking right now? Can you break up with me later?" and his heart screamed no no no no no, "I'm going to fuck you now. Because you are mine. Mine." A whisper so he didn't bellow.

But Gibbs fought him on this. "Tony, you—"

"No!" WHAM! Both of Tony's hands shot off Gibbs' body and smacked into the wall on either side of Gibbs' head. The tiny part of Tony that could observe wanted to smile at Gibbs' calm. He didn't jump at Tony's yell—scream really— as he had from Tony's loving touch, just watched Tony coolly. "Mine, mine, Gibbs." And without moving his hands, Tony kissed Gibbs desperately. Please. He wanted to beg but wouldn't. Pulled back and just waited, eyes flickering nervously, helplessly from Gibbs' eyes to his mouth and back. He couldn't say more just wanted to, needed to reclaim the feeling of wholeness, of happiness, that came from being with the other man. He just stood, aware that his posture was aggressive, but he was sure that his eyes gave every bit of his fear and need away.

But this was Gibbs, and maybe he could read Tony's mind now, just like he could at work, because suddenly the fight went out of the fight, as if Tony's own jealousy and possessiveness somehow answered Gibbs'.

"Where?" Gibbs' eyes went hot and lazy, and Tony wanted to faint in relief, but if nothing else, his cock kept him on task, his cock and the growing need to take the other man, mark him, Jesus, fuck him.

"Stay here." Gibbs just looked at him.

Tony hoped, and ran for the stairs. Actually he walked. And he was definitely not looking back. He wasn't taking the stairs two at a time and he didn't dart into the bedroom to retrieve the lube from the nightstand on his side of the bed. He walked because Gibbs needed the freedom to not be there when he got back. And if he was there when he got back, Gibbs needed to know that Tony was in charge.

Despite his relief at finding his man where he left him, his steps slowed as he approached Jethro's alert stillness, flicking the light off and leaving them in the full dark of the living room with just the ambient light from the kitchen to limn profile and body. Tony stood close and leaned in again, slanted his mouth against Gibbs, let it get sloppy and hot until Gibbs hands came up to slip under his shirt. As soon as Tony felt the rough palms against the sensitive skin of his belly, he grabbed them, held them still at his hips.

"Hold on." His eyes met Gibbs in question. "Okay?"

Gibbs cleared his throat, rasped out, "Tony, you don't have to be nice to me. I'm the jealous bastard here."

Gibbs still didn't understand. "Don't say that."

"Why?" Suddenly, his boss was there in place of Jethro. To answer was training, automatic.

"Because I'm more possessive than you will ever be."

"Why?" Still asking the earlier question, dissatisfied with Tony's answer.

"I...I'm the one, who can't...can't...I'm afraid…" Even as Tony struggled to find words, his own hands had found their way under Jethro's shirt, stroked in little circles on his belly, along his hips, around his back, low, soothing himself with touch. Jethro kept his hands where Tony put them, but he too was fighting arousal, clenching and unclenching them against Tony. It hurt a little. Tony winced at the stab of desire, fighting hard to keep from just turning Gibbs around and thrusting against his ass, clothed or not.

Gibbs gasped as Tony reached up and curled his fingers around the neck of Gibbs' T-shirt thank God the man wasn't wearing a sweatshirt and started to pull and rip but Gibbs' hands left Tony's hips quick and grasped Tony's hands where they flexed, powerful and thwarted.

"Afraid of what?" Gibbs eyes on his, demanding an answer now despite the voice harsh with tension, his erection starting to press rhythmically into Tony's hip and thigh.

"I won't know when to stop." He wasn't talking about sex, but he didn't think Gibbs would know that. "I want you, all of you. I'll hurt you."

Tony wasn't Gibbs. He couldn't hear the unspoken words in the silence. Not for sure. And he expected Gibbs to laugh, to dismiss his words as sentimental or rooted in insecurity, not as plain fact.

But Gibbs was Gibbs. When he trusted, he trusted absolutely. There was no hint of humor or patronization in his shadowed face, in the body still straining against his. "Maybe. Let's find out."

And Tony pulled, the ripping sound of the worn cotton spearing through him like a knife. Tony spayed his hands wide against the muscles of Gibbs' hips and belly, low. Swept up along sensitive skin and muscles and hair to Jethro's neck and shoulders even as Gibbs, obedient at last, returned his hands to Tony's hips.

Tony knew it will would be a little easier to get his fingers right where he wanted if they were lying down and he would take them upstairs for this next part, but Tony had this image in his head almost since that first time of doing this. Him and Jethro standing up. He stopped second guessing himself, let the worry go as best he could and stepped back just long enough to pull his own shirt off over his head, tossing it to the side. He reached for and pulled the pieces of Jethro's shirt off him and tucked a corner of it in one of the front pockets of his jeans.

Tony stepped in and, without kissing him, held Jethro's eyes while his fingers unbuttoned and unzipped the older man's jeans. He felt for the waist of the boxers, pulled them out and over Jethro's cock. One hand pushed the boxers and jeans down, the other cupped his lovers balls and stroked his hot and straining cock. Jethro made a sound unlike any Tony had ever heard from him, like a sigh but not so faint. High and long as Jethro arched, his head falling back against the wall.

Now that Jethro was naked, Tony's free hand cupped the back of the other man's head, fingers threading through the hair to tug gently. Another order. Stay. Even as Jethro's body relaxed back to standing, he let his head stay back, his eyes closed. Tony pressed his lips over Jethro's heart, mouth open, to better feel the frantic beating. Not enough. He moved to kiss the jugular, and was rewarded with the sacred beat. Mine mine mine...

All the time slowly stroking and massaging Jethro's dick, Tony stopped and pulled the lube from his own pocket, covering his fingers and cupping extra in the palm of his right hand. His left went back between Jethro's legs and the moans this elicited ratcheted his own arousal even higher. He didn't care about that though. Gibbs. Gibbs.

His right hand steadier than he would have believed, Tony dragged the back of his hand, letting his nails scrape lightly, down the crack of the beloved bastard's ass. Jethro's moans were almost continuous now, but he wasn't talking, wasn't telling Tony to stop or slow down and finally finally, stroking the slippery lubricant to coat the path to his hole, Tony slipped his pinky finger through the tightly clenched muscle. Tight, so tight, but as Tony slipped it in and out, playing around the sensitive opening with his other fingers and still stroking Jethro's cock, the other man began to relax.

Tony replaced his little finger with his index finger, now thrusting deeper and finally, finally, Jethro relaxed enough that Tony could feel for and touch the tiny, sensitive gland that made the last of the older man's walls come down. Jethro's fingers which had stayed obediently but increasingly demandingly on his hips, suddenly released and his hands groped for Tony's neck and shoulders, coming up and around even as his whole body curled forward against Tony. They were both sweating now, but the feel of Jethro coming to him, clutching him, moaning and shifting restlessly against him in his need, was almost better than any orgasm. If he had a free hand, he'd slip it around Jethro's waist, pull him close. As it was, though, Jethro was clutching him as close as he could get and Tony felt the other man's mouth moving in uncoordinated, open mouthed kisses against his chest, where Jethro's face was pressed.

Two fingers and Tony rolled Jethro's balls and stroked low behind them before stopping to add more lube. Three fingers and Jethro was almost completely silent but still pressed like the lover he was to Tony's chest.

And now, as Tony's fingers thrust relentlessly in and out, touching his prostate on alternate strokes, Gibbs spoke. "Tony, fuck, oh Tony jesus." And Tony gently removed his hand from Jethro's cock, never letting up the slippery thrust of his fingers, curled inside his man.

"Look at me, Jethro." Despite being lost so lost in sensation, Jethro's head came up, and as his eyes met Tony's, his hips thrust harder and his asshole tightened around Tony's fingers. Then one man sealed his mouth over the other, fingers striking even faster and deeper, curling and stroking inside, and even as the hot, sweet taste of Jethro's kiss filled Tony's mouth, Jethro went flying, pumping and coming into the shirt that Tony pressed around his cock. His arms had a fit man's strength and as he bucked and moaned in deep release, those arms held Tony in a vice-like grip, and Tony hoped Jethro would never let go.

Slowly, one muscle at a time, Jethro's taut body melted against his own. Tony tucked the wad of shirt into his pocket one more time, and reached around to hold his hand against the small of Jethro's back. Pulling the other man even deeper into his embrace. Jethro's breathing slowed, and Tony's did too, despite the hard-on. Honestly, he was surprised he hadn't come in his pants, but was glad because he wanted one thing more.

Tony slipped his fingers out carefully and Jethro gasped a little. Wiping his hands on the remains of the shirt, Tony finally flung it away.

"I'm not asking."

"Don't need to."

"Come upstairs with me."

Tony hadn't left any lights on and now they made their way in the dark to their bed. Tony had never had a male lover, just one-night stands, so he had never done this face to face. And as much as he wanted to see Jethro, to make sure he was okay, to watch him, the part of him that needed to claim the other man lusted at the image of taking him from behind. And from the small moan of satisfaction from Jethro, as Tony had him crawl onto the bed on hands and knees, he felt it too.

Tony stripped quickly next to the bed, watching Jethro for any signs of tension or unhappiness, loving the way that Jethro's head dropped tiredly down between his shoulders but then jerked up sharply at the feel of the mattress dipping and settling under Tony. Tony slicked his cock with lube.

And, in an echo of the first night they did this, their third time together, Tony smoothed his hand down Jethro's back, over his buttocks, down his flanks, fisted his own cock and carefully pushed just the tip of his cock into the other man's ass. Jethro tensed but relaxed when Tony didn't press any farther. And Tony, for his part, kept things slow and smooth. He didn't plan, this night, to press all the way in, to bottom out, but as his breathing increased and his desire to just let go, fill Jethro with his release, twisted in his groin, Jethro thrust backward. "More. Harder." And Tony was helpless not to respond, thrusting deeply over and over and he knew it had to hurt, at least some, because Jethro was so tight, but Jethro moaned louder and begged for more. Tony rolled his hips over and over searching for just the right angle and when he found it, one two three times in a row, Jethro cursed and pressed harder, back into him. Almost without warning, Tony felt the violent pulse of his orgasm rip through him and part of him wanted to scream that part of him was now in Jethro, binding them together.

He wasn't done yet though, and when he had come down from the high just barely, he resisted the urge to gather the other man up, to sleep, and pulling the now soft bulk of his cock from between his lover's legs, he pushed back and stood up. Got a couple warm wash cloths and cleaned Jethro up, front and back, unsure the other man was even aware. Gibbs had dropped to the bed after Tony came, his own cock semi-hard again but far from ready to do more. When Tony had turned him to clean his cock and balls, stroking between his legs gently, Gibbs' eyes had been shut.

Tony went to the bathroom one last time to clean himself up, wash his hands, and then finally made his way back to the bed. Jethro was on Tony's side of the bed, but Tony just pulled the covers down from under him, and pulling them up around both of them, slipped in the other side. If Tony had any ideas of cuddling Jethro, they were disabused by the other man rousing long enough to scoot up onto the pillow and twist around to pull Tony close into the lee of his body. This is how they started most nights, though they both ended up on their own sides by morning. Tony stole the covers, but Jethro slept on his stomach, one leg crooked and an arm flung out to take more of the bed space. Tony contended he only stole the covers because he had been pushed to the edge of the bed.

Tony bent his head to press a kiss onto the arm wrapped around him, satisfied when Jethro's hold tightened, and slept.

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