Okay, here it is. Inspired by the sixtysecondporn
Hot Flash challenge "Fingers". With more than 2500 words, it's not very flashy, sorry. You should be grateful that I got them to touch each other for once.
Feedback and constructive criticism are more than welcome. And please feel free to point out any mistakes you find. Title: Bring on the Night
Spoilers: General Spoilers for the end of the second season.
Summary: The future is but a question mark.
Notes: Written for the “Fingers” Challenge at the LJ community Sixtysecondporn
Warnings: If you are not an adult, go away.
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. Even the title is stolen. Again.
Do not archive without my permission.
The first thing he sees when he wakes up is Gibbs’s hand on his pillow. Gibbs is asleep on his side, facing him, left hand tucked under his cheek. The right one, however, is on Tony’s pillow, as if Gibbs had tried to reach for him in his sleep.
They don’t do the staying over thing. They fuck, he leaves. They never fuck at his apartment, only at Gibbs’s place, and rarely in a bed. They fuck against walls, across the kitchen table, in the basement. Mostly in the basement, which doesn’t really surprise Tony. After all, Gibbs spends half his life down there. No, that’s not true, he spends most of his life at work, but what little he has left, he spends in his basement. If they were having a relationship, Tony would probably be jealous of that stupid boat, but they don’t, they are just fucking. And if he is honest with himself, he kind of enjoys being fucked against the boat, hard wood under his hands, smooth from the hours Gibbs spends sanding it. He may even have thought, ‘there, you can spend the night, but you can never have this’ at the boat once or twice.
But tonight Gibbs pushed him to the bedroom, told him to strip and get on his hands and knees, and then he fucked him on the bed. He remembers coming, and he remembers Gibbs lying on top off him, panting, and then pulling out, and that’s when he must have fallen asleep, which is why he is lying here now, in Gibbs’s dark bedroom on top of the comforter, naked and cold. And with Gibbs’s hand right there, next to him.
He looks at Gibbs’s long fingers, curled up and twitching a little. His right hand, Tony thinks, the hand Gibbs stroked him with, the hand he came into just a few… hours ago?
He has no idea what time it is.
Outside he can hear the rain. The summer storm that suddenly broke lose on them this afternoon could go on all night. The light coming in from the window is just bright enough to lighten the bed, but the rest of the room is only shadows and grey. A bit like Gibbs, he thinks, and then he reminds himself that the light comes from the street lamp, not from the moon, hidden beneath thick rain clouds, so there is really no need to get all mushy and romantic about the picture in front of him. He stares into the darkness, searching for an alarm-clock that isn’t there. Gibbs probably keeps his in the basement. Or maybe he doesn’t need one to begin with.
There is nothing to indicate if it is ten p.m. or four a.m., so unless he gets up and searches his own watch, he'll lie here, wondering. It’s probably time to get up anyway, to dress quietly and go home, so he can be back in the office tomorrow, bright and flirty, pretending that he cannot still feel Gibbs’s touch on his skin and that he does not notice the empty desk in front of him. Pretending that it’s just another day at work, that losing a colleague is a thing that happens, so get the fuck over it, DiNozzo, it’s not like you were in love with her. Which he wasn’t, not in love. But he loved her, just like he loves Abby and Ducky and McGee, okay, not McGee, but that doesn’t mean he wants McGee to be dead. Just like he isn't in love with Gibbs, but at least on nights like this, Gibbs makes the pain go away for a while, replacing it with something different. Sometimes, it hurts just as much.
Gibbs’s fingers close to a fist and then uncurl again.
He never had the chance to watch Gibbs sleep. Fucking in the basement is a good way to prevent this kind of thing, because unlike Gibbs, Tony hasn’t gotten used to falling asleep on a wooden bench surrounded by saw dust yet. He was beginning to wonder if Gibbs even had a bed until tonight, but he has, and it’s a nice, comfortable king-size bed, probably a leftover from one of his marriages. He tries not to think of Gibbs having sex with a woman in this bed. The thought doesn’t make him jealous as much as horny, and this realization makes his stomach twist a little in a way that he cannot quite classify as good or bad.
The fingers curl and uncurl once more.
Gibbs sleeps like a Marine. Not that Tony has slept with many Marines, but the straight back, the utter lack of movement, the total control that radiates from Gibbs’s still form must be something he picked up in the Marines. Total control even in his sleep. Except for the hand on Tony’s pillow.
Tony is freezing now. The room was hot and sticky when he fell asleep, but now that the rain has washed away the heat outside, it has cooled off considerably inside. His skin is cold to the touch and he runs his hands up and down his arms a little, trying to warm himself up. Yes, it’s definitely time to get dressed and go home. He can probably find his clothes without turning the lights on, unless Gibbs has put them into the bathroom. Tony was pretty much soaked by the time he had reached the house, badly prepared for the rain in his jeans and shirt. Not that he cared then, enjoying the refreshing coolness on his heated body, enjoying it even more when Gibbs pulled him inside, pushed him against the wall and started licking the soft water from his neck.
As willing as he had been to get out of his clothes then, as unwilling is he to put them back on again. The idea of pulling on the wet shirt and pants isn’t inviting, but he isn’t sure what Gibbs would say if he borrows his clothes without his permission. He sighs and pushes up on his elbows when Gibbs stretches his arm a little on the now empty pillow. Okay, Tony thinks, one taste, and then he’ll leave. He lies back down again and kisses Gibbs’s fingertips. Softly, lips barely touching the skin. Just a taste.
Gibbs’s fingers are warm and dry, and a bit sticky from where he came all over them. He slips his tongue out and licks. Salty, and underneath there is pure skin, tasting like, like nothing really, just skin, warm and alive.
He licks a second fingertip until the taste of salt dissolves in his mouth.
When he moves a bit closer, he can push the fingers apart with his tongue and suck Gibbs’s index finger into his mouth a little. He closes his lips around it, feeling the hard nail on the one side and the soft pad on the other, sliding through the inside of his lips, sticking a little to them, so he wets his lips some more and the finger slides in and out of his mouth easily. The ridges feel huge under his tongue, and he tries to follow the trails of them while he sucks the finger inside, then lets it slip out again with a broad sweep of his tongue. He stops just before the nail leaves his mouth, holding the fingertip between his teeth for a moment, not really biting, just holding it, feeling gravity try to take it away from him. He closes his lips again and sucks, a bit harder this time, moving his head forward until he has the whole finger in his mouth, pressing it against the top of his mouth with his tongue. Small, swallowing movements, the taste of salt all gone now, just skin and warmth and Gibbs left. Gibbs, who is wide awake now, clear blue eyes looking at him without a trace of sleepiness.
Tony opens his mouth to let go of Gibbs’s finger.
“Don’t stop” Gibbs says, so he doesn’t.
He sucks the finger in again, scratching it with his teeth a little, and he can hear Gibbs’s draw his breath in, letting it out again slowly when Tony has the whole finger in his mouth again. And then Gibbs pulls the finger out and Tony closes his eyes and concentrates on Gibbs tracing his lips with his wet fingertip, until there are two fingers pushing into his mouth, so he sucks both of them in and closes his lips, presses his tongue against them, skin warmth on the right side, slightly cooler salt on the left. He circles them with his tongue until they are both warm and wet from his mouth. The skin on Gibbs’s index finger is already feeling a bit softer, soaked from his spit. He bites a little harder.
Gibbs starts stroking Tony's cheek with his thumb, and then Tony bites again and Gibbs moans. Tony can see him shift on the bed a little, sliding his left hand out from under his cheek, but Gibbs’s fingers stay in Tony’s mouth. Tony sees Gibbs’s shoulder move, and he knows Gibbs is stroking himself, but he can’t see it, not with the fingers in his mouth. From Tony’s point of view it looks uncomfortable, the way Gibbs lies there. He is barely able to move his hand, a slight motion in the shoulder he is lying on is all that gives away the movement of Gibbs's hand on his cock.
Tony lets the fingers slide from his mouth.
Gibbs slides the fingers back into Tony’s mouth, three fingers now and Tony’s lips close around them automatically.
“Don’t. Stop.” Gibbs says breathlessly.
Tony moans around Gibbs's fingers.
He decides that he has to at least touch Gibbs’s cock if he cannot suck it, so he moves his hand downwards, finding Gibbs’s leg, running his fingers along the inside up to his balls, finding soft warm skin for a moment until he is pushed away.
“No.” Gibbs says and stops his hand. “Touch yourself.”
He puts Tony’s hand on Tony’s own cock, that is painfully hard. He has concentrated so much on Gibbs’s fingers that he hadn’t even noticed before how aroused he is. His fingers close around the dry flesh, a weird contrast to the wet fingers between his lips.
Gibbs isn’t looking at him anymore, at least not at his face. He is watching him jerk off, so Tony opens his legs a little to give him a better view, and he can see Gibbs’s hand speed up a little, the muscles in his shoulder moving beautifully under his skin. Tony can feel himself getting harder. He closes his fingers around his cock with a bit more pressure now, sweeping his thumb across the tip to catch the drop of precum, and – feeling Gibbs’s eyes on him – slowly starts stroking himself. He moans against Gibbs’s fingers, chewing on them more than actually sucking, because he isn’t able to concentrate on that anymore, until Gibbs moves them again, pushing into his mouth, so he bites and sucks and Gibbs closes his eyes and comes with a groan, come hitting Tony on the legs, his hand and his cock, wetting his fingers so his cock slides through them easily now. He can feel Gibbs pull his fingers out from his mouth, then his legs are being pushed apart and Gibbs pushes into him with two fingers, warm from his mouth and wet from his spit, sliding into him in one, hard movement, sudden fullness enough to push him over the edge so he is already coming when Gibbs hits his prostate and all he can do is lie there, moaning and shaking.
They lie there, panting, Tony’s ass clenching around Gibbs’s fingers, his hand still on his spent cock. Gibbs pulls out and grasps Tony’s wrist, bringing it up to his own mouth, licking the come from Tony’s fingers. Tony shakes all over again.
Gibbs turns, grabs some tissues from the nightstand and wipes his hands, then Tony’s. Tony is just lying there, watching him. Gibbs takes another tissue and wipes the come from Tony’s belly, Tony’s and his own, from where Gibbs came all over him. He leans across Tony and throws the tissue away, probably aiming for the wastebasket, Tony thinks.
“Jeez, Tony, you are freezing.” Gibbs says when he touches Tony with his side while leaning over him.
“Huh?” Tony feels perfectly warm.
“Your skin is ice cold.” Gibbs is sliding his hand up Tony’s arm, and the warmth of Gibbs's hand makes Tony realize how cold he is. He remembers that he was about to get dressed.
“Hm, yeah.” He clears his throat and tries to think. “I should probably get dressed.”
Gibbs watches him.
“I…” Tony sits up and hopes his brain starts working soon. “My clothes are all wet.”
Gibbs looks a bit amused.
“Can I borrow one of your shirts?”
”Yeah.” Gibbs lies back and pulls the comforter on top of himself. “You can take one of the old ones, at the bottom of the closet. The left pile.”
Tony gets up, walks over to the closet and pulls out one of the shirts.
The shirt is soft and washed out, a sailing boat and some dates barely recognizable on the back. It won’t warm him much on the way home, but it’ll do, better than wearing his own, wet one. He pulls on the shirt and feels the worn out cloth caress his skin. His eyes are about to close again. Time to find his pants. Pulling on the wet cold jeans should wake him up enough for the drive home.
“What are you still doing there?” he hears from the bed.
“Sorry, almost gone. I can’t find my jeans.” He says, unable to keep the anger from his voice. They may not have a relationship, but at least Gibbs has never thrown him out before.
“DiNozzo.” He can see Gibbs sitting up again, sounding annoyed.
“What?” He is tired, cold and exhausted, wearing nothing but a stupid old t-shirt and all he wants to do is sleep.
“You…” Gibbs starts.
“What? I’m almost gone, just tell me where you put my fucking jeans already.” He has every right to be angry.
“That shirt is for sleeping.”
“What?” Now he is confused.
“I gave you that shirt to sleep in, DiNozzo.” Gibbs says softly.
“Oh.” Is all Tony can say.
“So would you get to bed already? It’s three thirty, and I really want to sleep.”
Tony wonders how Gibbs knows what time it is and walks back to the bed. Gibbs has pulled the sheets back so he can slide in easily.
Gibbs looks at him and then gives him a light slap on the head.
“Ow! What was that for?”
“For being so dense. And for keeping me awake all night.” He can see Gibbs smile a little.
“You were asleep before.”
“And you woke me up.” Gibbs’s eyes are closed again and he seems to almost asleep already.
“Sorry.” He smiles and lies back on the pillow. There’s that twist in his stomach again, and this time he is pretty sure that it’s a good twist.
“You know, I usually sleep naked.”
“You are welcome to take the shirt off again. But you are not getting anywhere near me with your cold skin.”
And then Gibbs stretches out his hand towards him, and this time, Tony is right there. Tony feels Gibbs sneaking the hand under his shirt, letting it rest on the small of his back. He presses closer to Gibbs’s warmth and falls asleep.