Title: Senses and sensuality
Author: Ceindreadh
Email: Ceindreadh@eircom.net
Website: n/a
Permission to archive: Yes to WWOMB, anybody else, please ask first.
Fandom(s): NCIS
Genre (general, hetero or slash) : SLASH
Pairing/Characters: Gibbs/DiNozzo
Rating: MA, NC-17, ADULTS ONLY!
Warnings: slash and smut and sex, oh my!
Disclaimer. I don't own the NCIS characters, I'm only borrowing them, and I promise to return them in minty fresh condition when I'm finished.
Notes: General spoilers for most of the show. I haven't really addressed the events of S4, but have referred to some of the incidents.

------------------------

Senses and sensuality.

--------------------

I love to look at Tony DiNozzo.

I love to watch him as he works. He gets a look on his face sometimes when he's concentrating. Makes him look for all the world like a kid trying to get that last sum right for teacher. I know that a lot of the time he acts like he's just pulled an answer out of the air, when in reality he's probably spent hours trying to get just the piece of information that he needs.

I love to watch him as he moves effortlessly around the office. The days when he shows up in jeans are ones to treasure...especially those jeans that seem almost like a second skin. I asked him once "Just how the hell does somebody get into those pants of yours?" Of course I should have known that he wouldn't let the opportunity pass, and he didn't disappoint me, answering as he did "Well dinner and a movie is usually a good start, Boss!" and then as he passed me by a few seconds later, he said low enough for just the two of us to hear, "But for you...all it takes is a smile!"

Times like those, it's all I can do to stop myself from bending him over a desk and taking him right there in front of everybody. I've considered suggesting that maybe he wear outfits that are a little less 'appealing' to me when he's at work, but if I'm being honest, there's probably nothing he could wear that wouldn't have me wanting to jump his bones. Okay, maybe a burqa or something that covered him from head to toe...but even a glimpse of his eyes, his beautiful eyes would be enough to set me off.

I love to watch Tony when we're alone. When I know that no unfriendly eyes are sharing what I am seeing. I love to watch him as he strips off his clothes in front of me, as each inch of skin is revealed for my pleasure. I love the way he strides unselfconsciously around in the nude when he's going for a shower. I love the way the water glistens on his skin when he's finished...the way it trickles down his chest, little rivulets leading the way to the promised land below his towel. Sometimes he'll tease me by not securing the towel too tightly, so that it'll slip just a fraction as he walks towards me, and he knows that as he rolls his hips and the towels position becomes even more and more precarious, that it won't be too long before I'll be ripping it off him.

He knows that I love to look at him...he couldn't help but guess it from the way that my eyes practically burn a hole in his body...not to mention my frequent insistence on leaving the lights on when we have sex. With other partners, my inclination had been to turn off the lights...to try and pretend that they were somebody they weren't.

With Tony I don't have to pretend...don't *want* to pretend that he's anybody else.

-------------------

I love to listen to Tony DiNozzo.
If talking was an Olympic sport, Tony would have a desk full of gold medals. The man can talk more than ex-wives put together...and believe me, that's a lot of conversation! For me, it doesn't matter what he's saying, heck, I'd happily listen to him reading a telephone directory. And it doesn't matter what language he says it in either.

Before I met Tony, it had never occurred to me that the sound of a foreign language could be so...arousing. Or maybe it's just that anything in Tony's tongue sounds good. (And don't get me started on what else he can do with that tongue, that's a chapter in itself.) I knew that Tony could speak Spanish when he first joined N.C.I.S., he's not totally fluent, but he can make himself understood. And he's managed to pick up a lot of words and phrases in various other languages too...some of them quite...specific... Many of them not suitable for use in public.

He doesn't always get things right though. After he'd discovered my taste for sex talk in foreign languages, he made a point of trawling through the Internet, trying to learn ever more erotic words and phrases to tease me with. When he realized I understood Russian, he spent a week learning a poem to whisper in my ear the next time we were in bed together. He was so enthusiastic that I didn't have the heart to tell him that instead of the love poetry he'd been seeking, he'd obviously stumbled across some Russian woman's shopping list. But then, a pound of apples and a pint of milk, has never sounded so sexy as it did in Tony's voice.

---------------------------

I love to smell Tony DiNozzo.
His scent has changed over the years that I've known him...it's even changed since we've been sleeping together. When I first hired him, Tony's aftershave was like Tony himself. Big and brash and the residue of his presence would remain in a room long after he had gone. He started toning it down after a few weeks...okay, make that after the first time we had to drive to a crime scene and I told him that if he wore so much aftershave the next day, he'd be walking to the scene...even if it was in Alaska. He tried turning that little lost puppy look of his on me, but I was immune to it...then anyway.

But he heeded my warning and I never had to have the window open because of his aftershave again. Now of course when I drive with the window open it's because I need to keep my mind on the job, and I can't do that when eau de DiNozzo is wafting towards me. There was that one time when we'd been using honey dust the night before. We'd been called in to work unexpectedly and Tony hadn't had a chance to shower properly. I had to drive all the way to Norfolk with him sitting beside me, smelling like honey. Every little blast of scented air, bringing me back to our unfinished business of the night before, and him sitting there with a cheesy grin on his face, just daring me to say something inappropriate. When we picked up breakfast along the way, he even had the nerve to tell McGee to get him a croissant dipped in honey. "I just love the taste of honey in the morning, what about you Boss?" And they call *me* a bastard!

I told Abby once that the women I dated liked the smell of sawdust...and that was why I didn't date many women. Surprisingly for Abby, she didn't follow up on that and suggest that I date men instead. Tony would never have missed that opportunity. We'd been sleeping together for several months before I realized that he too was starting to smell of sawdust. Probably from all the time we spent in the basement together working on the boat. No, that's not a euphemism, Tony really did help me build my boat...well some of the time he did...occasionally...okay, okay. Most of the times he'd just sit there and watch and breathe in the sawdust scented air, and then when the sight of me working the wood (still not a euphemism) got too much for him, he'd drag me away from my tools and concentrate on the one tool he knew well how to use (now *that's* a euphemism!)

But the end result of all that time was that more and more often, Tony would arrive in to work with the scent of sawdust all over him. Call me paranoid, and Tony certainly did, but I was sure that somebody would put two and two together and figure out the most likely place for him to have acquired it. Maybe I was being over careful, but I would never have guessed about Jimmy Palmer and Agent Lee, if I hadn't caught a whiff of Autopsy off her on more than one occasion.
Typical of Tony, he came up with his own solution to the problem, buying a range of wood scented hygiene products and making sure that he was seeing using them a few times. Granted it wasn't the *exact* scent as the sawdust from the boat - at least that's what Tony said - but it was near enough as made no difference.

But most of the time he doesn't smell of honey or of aftershave or even of sawdust...most of the time he just smells of Tony. Some nights I'll wake up in the dark, and even before my eyes have adjusted...even before I hear the sound of him breathing...I'll sniff the air and know that he's lying there beside me...that he hasn't returned to the wet dreams that plagued my nights for way too long before I had finally taken the first step towards him.

-----------------------------

I love the taste of Tony DiNozzo.
I love the taste of his lips, his fingers, his nipples. I love the taste of his cock in my mouth when I suck him off first thing in the morning. I love the way he whimpers under me when I lick my way around his body. I love the way he groans and shudders when I touch his more sensitive spots.

He swears that it was purely by accident that I got a jar of honey dust that one Christmas instead of the bottle of Jack Daniels that he'd intended for me. He tried to give me the bottle the following year, but I still had the honey dust left, and we discovered that it tasted much nicer than the alcohol. Since then I've discovered a lot of substances that taste better when eaten off of Tony's bare skin. He teased me by saying that next time Ducky wanted me to take some vitamins, all he had to do was prescribe them in spreadable form, and the only problem would be not OD'ing. I would have responded, but I'd always been told never to speak with my mouth full, and besides, I had to concede that he was right.

-----------------------------------

I love the touch of Tony DiNozzo.
I love the feel of his body as I run my hands over it. By now I know every inch of it practically as well as my own. I know all the muscles he's built up over the years. I can tell you the location of all the many scars he's accumulated throughout his career. When we're in bed together, I can never keep my hands off him. Even in my sleep I'll find myself reaching out to touch, caress and hold him.

At work, sometimes it's all I can do to keep my hands to myself. Sometimes I find myself just hoping that Tony will say something, anything that can be taken as justification for a head swat. It's not that I have any desire to punish him like that, but it's the only time I can get away with touching him in public. "What are you waiting for, an atta boy?" I asked him once. When he said yes, I couldn't not take advantage of the opening and I stroked his hair, practically petting him like a dog. He likes to be petted...he likes to be stroked...he likes the feel of my hands on his body almost as much as like touching him.

And he knows that I like the touch of Tony all over my body. His hands have been places that even my hands don't get to go. Before Tony, I would have thought my cock was the only place on my body that was needed for sex. With Tony...he treats every part of the body as if it has potential for sexual arousal...and under his hands, most of it does. Maybe it's just the Tony effect on me, but he can make me hard, just by casually stroking the back of my knee, the inside of my wrist. It's probably as well that he never head swats me at work or I'd likely come right there and then.

-------------------------

Sometimes it's hard to believe that he and I have been together for so long. I've spent longer with Tony than with all of my ex-wives...combined. But I don't think I realized the longevity of our relationship until I realized that we'd been together for more anniversaries than I had had with Shannon. That was the point when I realized that if there ever came a point when our relationship could be formalized with a legal ceremony that I wanted to be ready for it.

That night I told Tony that I wanted us to go public, that if people had a problem with our relationship then tough, they'd just have to deal with it.

I told Jen the very next day that Tony and I were in a serious relationship, and that if she wanted to transfer either or both of us, that was her call, but it wasn't going to end us. Much to my chagrin, she simply smiled and said that she'd been wondering when we were going to go public. She tried to spare my feelings by saying that she'd had a *very* good teacher when it came to investigating.

The next step was the harder one. I had all these fine plans, how I'd cook a romantic dinner, wine and dine Tony, and then do this whole big fancy smancy proposal speech. Hell, I was even ready to go down on one knee, just to make it perfect. I told Tony I was leaving work early, so I'd have time to get things sorted.

In the end though, it didn't come to that. When Tony walked in the door, all my fine plans went out the window. I took his head in my hands and said to him, "I love you Tony DiNozzo, with all my heart, with all my senses. If there ever comes a time when we can, then I want to do it legally, but until then, I want to spend my life with you. Will...will you marry me?"

I think it was probably the first time I'd seen Tony at a loss for words, and for a heartbeat, I had the sickening feeling that I'd pushed things too far, that in spite of how long we'd been together that he wasn't ready for that final moment of commitment.

And then he threw his arms around me and I tasted him and I smelt him and I felt his body firm against me, and as I looked into his eyes, I heard him say, "Yes."

--------------------------

The end