Defined, Described

by Jane Davitt




"Head slaps are romantic?"

Tony winces and leans back against the sink The men's room is empty apart from them, but he keeps his voice discreetly low. "You weren't supposed to hear that, Boss."

Gibbs quirks his eyebrow. "I thought kissing you was romantic," he says mildly.

"It is." God, it is. "Gibbs…"

"And telling you I'm glad you came over, even if we both know you can't stay away."

"Hey, you are glad to see me! I can tell. Your nose twitches."

Okay, he'll pay for that, but it's true. It does.

"Making you beg me to fuck you," Gibbs continues remorselessly.

And there it is. Payback time. Not that Tony can deny it. Gibbs has this prosaic, no-frills approach to the deed that shouldn't make Tony shiver with lust, but it does because he knows what's under the surface. Being told to roll over and put his ass in the air is Gibbs' version of comparing him to a summer day.

He rallies. "That not so much. Hot, yes, romantic -- ow!"

Gibbs tilts his head inquiringly and lowers his hand. "Feeling loved, Tony?"

Tony smiles at him, his head stinging, other parts of him throbbing, tingling, aching. It's nine-thirty in the morning. They're going to be doing that for a while before he gets the only remedy that works; Gibbs' hand, warm, dry, rough, or the tentative, almost shy swipe of his tongue that always precedes a blow job, as if Gibbs isn't quite sure he remembers how to do it.

"Always, Boss."

"Good. Because I can always change the target."

Gibbs brushes his hand over Tony's ass lightly, a contemplative gleam in his eyes, and Tony remembers the gesture he'd made to Ziva, the smack of his hand on his hand… Does Gibbs think that he wants -- Gibbs can't think that he -- Does he?

He swallows, his arousal flaring to the point where he's not going to make it out of the men's room without <i>something</i> to take the edge off.

"Not at work, Tony," Gibbs tells him, his voice soft as used sandpaper. "Later."

Tony gestures at the stalls. "Really, Gibbs. I could just -- I'll be quick."

Gibbs narrows his eyes. "Later."

It's a growl, possessive, annoyed, and yes, just a little frustrated.

Tony grins at him, oddly calmed by that growl, and straightens the collar on Gibbs' shirt because he has to touch him, just has to. "Now that's romantic."

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