Chapter Three
Gibbs turned around, smirking at Tony, before he spoke again. “Like I said, I only play with my food when it looks as good as you do.”
“Yeah, well I’m not on the menu.” Maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t, but there was no way he was gonna be this easy, he wasn’t gonna give Gibbs every advantage. The man was far too assertive already. This was Tony’s turf and somehow he had to establish dominance. He knew that holding out would be a lesson in self control, but knew he could do it, even against such a worthy opponent as Gibbs.
“You will be,” Gibbs said, self assurance oozing out of every pore.
“You’re so sure of that?” Tony shot back. “You’re taking lots of chances here, Gibbs. I could destroy you.”
Tony didn’t know how it happened, had no time to react as he was driven against the wall, Gibbs’ forearm against his throat and his leg between Tony’s so that his knee was resting against the wall, Tony’s ass riding it. He could thrust forward and grind against Gibbs’ thigh, but that’d cut his air off.
His eyes flew open wider and he pulled in air, the arm restraining him exerting just enough pressure to panic him. Tony forced his nervousness down. A fellow cop wouldn’t kill him, would he? Tony knew he was way out of his element here and a frisson of fear snaked up his spine.
Those eyes had been burning blue fire but now they were cold as ice. Even though Tony was intimidated as all hell, a bigger part of him was turned on. His hips fought to thrust against the muscular thigh, his cock largely unrestrained by the sweats. And harder than he’d ever been.
“You wouldn’t,” Gibbs growled low. “Because you want to ride my cock, Tony. You want me just as much as I want you. In destroying me you’d destroy yourself. And you’re not gonna do that.” Gibbs leaned in, taking his free hand and pulling Tony’s head to the side firmly. He moved in closer, his mouth working Tony’s pulse point, teeth scraping deliciously around and around over-sensitized skin, The arm pinning Tony’s upper body, released him and Tony sagged against Gibbs.
“Know you’re not ready yet,” the other man whispered against Tony’s throat. “Been a long time for me…and I want you.” There was a hitch in Gibbs’ voice that made Tony squirm and writhe against the other man, all self-control gone. He wanted to hear that tone again just for him. He needed it.
His thighs gripped Gibbs and he began thrusting, the friction on his balls hot, almost painful. His hands came up, burying themselves in Gibbs’ short dark hair, urging him to continue to work his neck.
“You’re not ready yet,” Gibbs remarked again, a reminder Tony didn’t want to hear. “But when you are, I’m not gonna let you come in your pants. It’ll be in my mouth, or my hand. You understand me?”
Tony didn’t answer, moving faster. He was so damn turned on. Then Gibbs pulled away and he stumbled to his feet, confused.
“You stopped. Why?” He was only aware he’d been sucking on his lower lip when Gibbs stroked over it with a thumb.
“Because it’s not time. You’re not ready yet,” Gibbs said, those eyes burning again. “You say the word and mean it, and we continue. But right now, dinner.”
Tony blinked a few times, nodding. Where the hell had his resolve and self-control gone? Hadn’t he sworn to himself that he was gonna take charge, take control? And he’d been humping Gibbs’ leg like a damn dog after a bitch.
Tony watched as Gibbs went back to the stove, acting as if he owned the place. He wasn’t sure why he was letting this stranger have the run of his apartment, but it felt comfortable, it felt okay. He watched as Gibbs pulled the bowl of sauce out of the microwave and stirred it, sprinkling a little salt in before turning the microwave back on.
“Sit down, Tony. Relax.”
“Gibbs this is my place. I invited you over.”
“Yeah and I haven’t been a good guest so let me make it up to you. What do you have to drink?”
Tony opened the fridge. “Beer, soda, juice, water. Have some wine but it is cheap Italian table wine stuff.”
“Beer?” Gibbs’ expression perked. “None of that fancy stuff with the stupid names, like Spotted Lizard or Green Fawn is it? That isn’t real beer.”
Tony chuckled, shaking his head. “Got some Sam Adams, that too fancy?”
Gibbs shook his head. “Sam Adams is fine. Wanna get a couple while I get this started?”
Gibbs couldn’t help himself, watching as Tony bent over to get the beer. The Baltimore cop had an incredible body and he knew it. He wanted to cup that ass in his hands, grind against it, spread the cheeks and slide home. And that little bit of cocky arrogance reminded Gibbs of himself before the job had worn so heavily on him. Maybe he needed this affair, this guy, to recenter him. The divorce from Stephanie had been hard, much tougher than he’d expected. She had been the one cheating and yet she was heartbroken when he’d decided to call things off.
The months of tears, drunken phone calls, and sadly pathetic threats, declarations of love, her begging him to come back. He hadn’t realized how much they’d affected him. Now that he had this connection with someone else, Gibbs felt almost uncharacteristically young and carefree. He never conducted himself like this. He was a hell of a lot more guarded with everyone in his life. Why this man at this time…that was the mystery.
He busied himself stirring the linguini into the boiling water and then searching for and finding bowls for the salad greens. DiNozzo didn’t seem to have many more vegetables than a tomato and onion lying around, but Gibbs cut those up as DiNozzo opened the bottles of beer. One was slipped into his hand and he nodded his thanks, drinking deeply.
“Dressing?” he asked after downing most of the beer. “Hope you have more in there?”
“Don’t worry,” DiNozzo replied with a smirk. “Got ya covered.” He handed the bleu cheese to Gibbs and Gibbs nodded slightly, smiling, wishing he could kiss that little smile right off DiNozzo’s face. Patience…he had to somehow locate his famous patience, which seemed to be on permanent vacation.
“Hey, DiNozzo,” he asked casually, pouring liberal amounts of dressing on the salads. “You involved with anyone?” He flicked his gaze over to the other man when Tony snorted.
“With my hours? Yeah right. Outside of the casual hookup, hell no.”
“Men or women?’ Gibbs asked, even though he was pretty sure he knew.
“Women,” DiNozzo confirmed. “You?”
“Women too. Divorced about seven months ago. Guys a steady thing for you or just every so often?” Gibbs hated doing this dance but he knew he had to. This wasn’t just a one-night stand or a casual hookup as DiNozzo put it. Gibbs wanted Tony. Before Tony could answer, he went on. “Guys…yeah sometimes. Not many. But you’re different. There’s something about you.”
“Yeah, my smile,” DiNozzo shot back and Gibbs grinned. It was something he could imagine himself saying before the job had changed him.
“Your spirit,” Gibbs replied utterly seriously. ‘Something about you that is more than words or looks or your hard body and hard dick. I want you.”
When Gibbs spoke again, that hitch in his voice, Tony shivered. He knew exactly what Gibbs was talking about and somehow it seemed that Gibbs knew things there was no way he could, how Tony needed to be needed, how Tony longed to be wanted. How Tony had been dying for a mentor since Chief had retired in Peoria.
Though he was thinking distinctly un-mentorlike thoughts about Gibbs. He’d been damn close to climax when he’d been riding Gibbs’ thigh. And even now he knew this was going to end up in bed, which was a place he’d never been with a mentor before. Not that he was complaining.
“Like being wanted,” Tony said, trying to be casual. “But you’re right, we’re rushing it.” He regarded Gibbs with a gentle smile. “The hours a marriage killer for you?”
“More than that,” Gibbs said with a sigh. Tony read sadness and a little regret in the other man’s gaze and moved to squeeze his arm but Gibbs recovered almost immediately, giving Tony a disarming ironic smile.
“She’s happier now, engaged. Wasn’t forever. I’m okay, DiNozzo.”
Tony was silent until Gibbs had drained the pasta and tossed it with the sauce, placing it and their salads on the table. They worked side by side, getting the silverware out, placing napkins on the table, getting a couple more beers ready.
After Tony had shaved some romano cheese onto the steaming bowl of pasta, he dared to speak again, watching Gibbs eat before he took his own first bite. “You play to win, don’t you, Gibbs.”
Gibbs nodded, those blue eyes darkening and turning electric. “I’m the hunter and you’re the prey. You’re going to need to learn to submit.”
For the second time that night, Tony found himself muttering, “I am so fucked.”
“Will be,” Gibbs agreed.
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