Splinters and Sawdust

by Jane Davitt

Sometimes, Tony wants to slap the back of Gibbs' head. It's a way of driving a message home when Gibbs does it to him, though, and what could he possibly teach Gibbs?

Well...maybe not to be an asshole. Yeah, Gibbs could stand a quick refresher course on that. Then there's Gibbs' annoying habit of popping up out of thin air, living off coffee, that haircut, God, that hair, and never, ever acknowledging just how important Tony is to him, how needed, how wanted, how essential a senior field agent he is...the best ever, in fact, but Tony doesn't want to be the one to say it. He will if he thinks people need to know, but he wants Gibbs to be the one to say it.

He always wants Gibbs to be the one.

Could even Gibbs convey all that frustration with a head slap?

Tony doesn't know, but he's pretty sure that he can't.

So he settles for a slightly firmer tap than usual on Gibbs' ass when he pulls him in for a kiss, golden motes of sawdust floating lazily in the basement air, and smiles enigmatically when Gibbs raises his eyebrows and says something dry (but tantalizingly sounding mildly curious) about discovering a new kink, Tony?

The thought of it makes him shiver and press closer, but his hand stays cupped around the pared-down curve of Gibbs' ass, as tight as his smile. If Gibbs wants to give or get a spanking, Tony's his man (always) but the head slap...well, a man needs to know when a fantasy should stay that way.

He hasn't given up on getting Gibbs to fuck him in the boat, though.

And to hell with the high risk of splinters.

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