The Confession
Chapter 3
Gibbs asked, "But please, please tell me…not Hollis?"
It was Tony's turn to be appalled. "Lieutenant Colonel Mann? No way! Way too toppy a female for me. You know how I am around women like that. That would like fucking my mother." He shook his head adamantly. "Now Stephanie, she was different, vulnerable…"
"My ex? You fucked my ex-wife?" Gibbs rose to his feet and Tony did the same, knowing all the while that he should have stayed seated in the name of self-preservation. That way he would have made less of a target for the punch that Gibbs was about to throw.
"Only one of them!" Tony faced Gibbs and raised his hands defensively, but he was driven back until he hit the metal wall of the elevator with a crash that took his breath away. Or maybe the breathlessness was due to the fact that Gibbs was right up against him, vibrating with anger. Tony spoke rapidly. "Steph was all candles and sexy background music, Boss, and I think it was smoking the weed that made me weak. The cuffs were her idea. She took advantage of me." Shit, he was whining. Gibbs was in his face, those eyes drilling into him, scaring Tony more than he'd like to admit, but sort of exciting him too.
Then Gibbs pulled back an inch and frowned. "Did she burn incense and play Marvin Gaye?" At Tony's nod, he said, "Huh, sounds like her typical MO."
Tony had visions of his boss smoking dope with Steph and getting loopy, being taken advantage of, getting handcuffed. Or maybe Gibbs would be the one to do the restraining with a pair of those fuzzy pink cuffs. No, he'd be into heavy, utilitarian leather cuffs that really secured you when you were being whipped. Yeah. That could be interesting.
Tony was trying to figure out how to wind this conversation up when Gibbs was back in his face, demanding, "Who else? Might as well get them all off your chest." Gibbs glanced down at a point below Tony's waist then back up to his face, bringing a flush to his cheeks.
"Uh, there was…Brad Pitt. He was really clinical though. Sort of put me off the way he wanted to play proctologist. If he was so interested in that part of the body you'd think he'd have gone into it on a professional level instead of specializing in infectious diseases. I walked away when he wanted to do breath play, though. You know how I am about needing to keep a clear airway after the plague and all." Tony thought for a moment then said, "I did have an affair, of sorts, with Palmer, but I broke it off when I found out he was only using our friendship to get closer to my handmade Italian leather shoes. Quite a fetish that boy has. He needs help, Boss. Do you know that he can only come to orgasm by calling out the names of shoe designers? Okay, you don't need to know that."
Gibbs was still too close for Tony to get his mind straight, but he started to count off the people he'd had sexual encounters with on his fingers. "Detective John Carson, the Metro cop who died on our watch? Nice guy. He even gave me one of his ties as a gift, an Armani. Then there was Damon Werth. Man, those muscles, but not much going on between the ears. Renny Grant, but he carried too much baggage. But that was a quickie in the airport men's room when you were waiting with the car so it doesn't really count." Tony shrugged that one off. "Oh and Clay. Yeah, how could I forget Clay? That…that was not the most comfortable sex I've ever had."
"Clay?" Gibbs apparently had no clue who Tony was talking about.
"Sheriff Clay Boyd. Arizona? The old dude who took us up into the hills on horseback? I was sorta preoccupied, waiting to hear from those British solicitors to see if I'd inherited any money and he--" Tony squawked when Gibbs took hold of a fistful of his shirt. The stupefied expression on Gibbs' face would have been priceless if it hadn't been so scary.
"No wonder you were so sore riding back down the mountain," Gibbs muttered to himself.
"Yeah, anything beats a cold, rocky night out in the desert, getting humped in the rear by a lawman who refuses to remove his gun belt. Do you know that cartridge belts leave really bad welts?" Tony reached back and touched his butt at the recollection. "There've been some nice guys, too. Chad from Chad, the Texan, he was a good date. Really considerate. Nice soft blond hair, too. And I thought he was after Ziva. Hmmm," Tony mused. "Then there was G." He smiled at that memory. "He came to DC…oh but you weren't here. You went to San Diego to claim your sailboat with the bodies in it that Franks sent you. You have such nice friends, Boss."
"Stop. Stop! Special Agent G Callen?"
"Very sweet man and pretty blue eyes. Not as pretty as yours, but…Interesting scars. He has some issues but he's working on them." Tony really was very fond of Agent Callen. "Now Sam…"
"Sam?" Gibbs spoke in a whisper.
"His partner. Even you have to admit that man has a body to die for. Ohmygod those biceps! Not that we ever got it on." Not that they'd ever had the opportunity to do more than eye each other. Not yet, anyway. Tony sighed. "I can't remember anyone else and, frankly, I'm getting sort of tired of being in this elevator. Aren't they ever coming to fix it and get us out of here?" He looked up at the elevator's suspended ceiling and asked, "Think we can jimmy that panel and climb out the trap door?"
Gibbs glanced at his watch. "They're working on it now. We'll be out soon enough."
Gibbs was looking at him with a funny expression. Pity was the best guess Tony could make. Tony looked at the floor, or he would be looking at the floor if Gibbs weren't standing so close. Instead he was looking at his boss's shirtfront, a polo in a nice dark red color. He could smell coffee and knew it was emanating from Gibbs even though he hadn't brought any with him into the elevator.
Softly, Gibbs ordered, "Get it out, Tony, all of it, and then we won't speak of it again." He reached out and ran his hand down Tony's forearm, ruffling the hairs on it.
Although it felt like an intimate gesture it told Tony that he was with a trusted friend, and encouraged him to release the last of his confession. He shifted anxiously and looked at everything he possibly could except at his boss. "Um…I had sex with ---" He mumbled the name causing Gibbs to cock his head.
"What was that?"
"I had sex with Trent Kort," Tony enunciated. "Or maybe it'd be more accurate to say he had sex with me because I really was not participating." He licked his lips which were suddenly very dry. "It was…uh, it was a bad scene." Tony felt himself flushing. "He hurt me, Gibbs, and he really, really enjoyed doing it. Then afterwards when I wouldn't take his calls he blew up my car outta spite." He tried to smile as if it was all nothing but wasn't quite able to pull it off.
"Shit, Tony." Under his breath Gibbs muttered, "I am going to kill Kort," but to Tony he said, "Nobody will ever hurt you again, you hear?"
Tony laughed humorlessly. "How can you say that? You fuck, you get fucked over. It happens. It's not like you can be there all the time, Gibbs."
"Nobody's going to fuck you over, not if I have anything to do with it. I should have damn well seen what was going on. I'm so sorry, Tony."
Gibbs' sympathy did Tony in, plus his proximity, so when Gibbs said, "It's time someone took care of you. Come here," and tugged at him, Tony let himself fall forward and into his arms. He wouldn’t cry, he told himself. He wasn't going to be a girl about it. It was all in the past and now he had Gibbs, of all people, wrapping his arms around him and it just felt so right. Tony closed his eyes and let it all wash over him, the warmth, the strength, the utter love of the man. Then there was a cheek rubbing against his, and lips touching the corner of his mouth, and then they were kissing and all Tony could think was that this was so good, and Jethro tasted of chocolate, and why the hell hadn't they ever done this before? There was play of tongue and lips, wet and insistent, and the rough rub of a jaw with a hint of late-day stubble, and Tony wondered how he was going to explain to Abby about turning up late, and with beard burn, and then he couldn't think at all because this was Gibbs and his hands were so gentle and yet so possessive, and his mouth…
By the time they broke apart Tony was panting and confused and happy all at the same time. Gibbs held his face in both of his hands and looked deep into his eyes. Whatever Gibbs was seeking he apparently found because he crushed Tony against the wall again and kissed him breathless.
When they finished that round of kissing, Gibbs said vehemently, "Tony…Tony, I will not be just another fuck."
Eyes half closed, desiring only for Gibbs to kiss him again and to take him home and fuck him into the mattress, Tony smiled and nodded. He was willing at that point to promise anything, anything to Gibbs. "Anything you want," he managed to say on an exhaled breath.
That seemed to make Gibbs angry because abruptly he was not so gentle, pressing his whole body against Tony, breathing into his neck, one hand grabbing at his crotch hard enough to make Tony whimper and rise onto his toes. Shit, Gibbs liked it rough. And Tony found his cock apparently enjoyed the treatment it was getting, swelling within Gibbs' fist.
Tony bucked his hips, wanting more, but Gibbs didn't take the hint. His voice was harsh in Tony's ear. "I will not be just another fuck, Tony. Do you understand?"
He nodded. "Yes, yes. It's getting really uncomfortable here, Boss," Tony said, wriggling a little to suggest that Gibbs loosen his grip.
"Good, because I don't think you're getting the message yet. Look at me, Tony."
Oh but he was getting the message, loud and clear. Tony could see the promise of things to come in Gibbs' eyes and he'd never felt so wanted in his life. There was less pressure on his genitals and a thumb rubbed across the tip of his aching cock and even through his clothing it felt so good. Tony's heart pounded so hard that he could feel the drumming in his ears. "Oh my God, Gibbs, Gibbs…I want…" Tony reached down and found what he wanted - Gibbs' dick. Already semi-erect, it grew at his touch, hot and as hard as steel, straining against the fabric of his sensible Sears pants. "I want you, Boss. Shit, you're big."
Gibbs' eyes never wavered and apart from the clenching of his jaw, the older man didn't give any indication that he felt Tony's fingers squeezing and stroking him. Gibbs' free hand went to Tony's jaw, grasping him firmly to get his attention. "What you want does not come into this equation, DiNozzo. You are going to do exactly as I say from now on. Is that clear?"
"Crystal," Tony said, his voice high.
Gibbs released Tony's face and removed the hand that was still groping at him. "Save it for later." He imprisoned Tony's hands against his hips. "This is going to be played by my rules, Tony. I am only going to say this once, so listen up. You listening?"
Tony managed a nod. Never before had he found Gibbs' assertive manner quite so hot.
"You will not fuck anybody, and I mean anybody except me, ever again. No ex-wives, no co-workers, suspects, agents, interns, mail boys, girlfriends, boyfriends, or boyfriends of girlfriends. There will be no kinks, no fetishes, and absolutely no fucking with the FBI or CIA. No doctors, either. In fact you are never, ever to be touched by another human being unless it's in a medical situation and only under my strict supervision. Got all that?"
"Yes," Tony croaked.
"And stop kissing Abby!" Gibbs shouted.
Tony stared at his boss, thinking he'd never seen him in quite such a state before, so angry and yet so much in charge. So damned sexy. "Um, what about rule number twelve?"
"The hell with number twelve," Gibbs said huskily, crushing Tony to his chest and kissing him until he was limp. Some minutes later the elevator gave a little jerk and the blue emergency lights changed over to the regular white glow and the machinery whirred into life. Gibbs broke the kiss first and rubbed a thumb over Tony's swollen bottom lip. "And call me Jethro when we're not at work," he panted.
Tony swallowed. "Okay." By that point his brain was mush and he would have agreed to anything at all.
Gibbs' eyes narrowed but then the elevator's emergency phone rang. He answered it, spoke a few curt words in response and hung up. "They fixed it obviously. We're going home now."
Tony had no idea what Gibbs was talking about at first and then he remembered they were stuck in a stalled elevator. "Oh yeah."
Gibbs straightened Tony's clothing, adjusted his leather shoulder holster, which was a little askew, and handed him his suit jacket. "The shoulder rig is a good look on you, Tony."
Nonplussed, Tony said, "Thank you." He rolled his sleeves down and buttoned the cuffs, then put on his suit jacket.
Gibbs looked up at the panel above the elevator doors that showed which floor they were currently on. It changed from one to lobby, as they continued on down the parking level. "I want to see more of it at the office. Take off your jacket in the bullpen tomorrow." Gibbs shrugged into his overcoat and ensured his holster and badge were both properly attached to his belt. "Roll up your sleeves tomorrow, too. I like hairy forearms."
Tony eyes widened, and he said slowly, "Yes, Gibbs."
The light indicated they had arrived at the parking level. There was a ding and the doors opened. Tony picked up his overcoat and backpack and stepped out of the elevator alongside Gibbs. He looked at his watch. They'd been imprisoned in the confessional for only an hour. But what an hour it had been, more like a lifetime. Tony felt good, his spirit lighter than it had been for a long time. He was looking forward to this, to whatever Gibbs had planned for him. Some fucking? Making love tonight in Gibbs' own bed? A long, torrid affair? There was no question in his mind that it was going to be long-term, which was exactly what he wanted. And what he'd needed all along. It appeared as though it was what Gibbs needed, too.
A burly young man in overalls scurried towards them from the elevator maintenance bay. "Tony! Oh, hi Agent Gibbs."
"What--?" Gibbs asked impatiently.
Tony prompted out of the side of his mouth, "His name's George."
"George," Gibbs amended impatiently. "What've you got?"
George wasn't cowed by Gibbs' brusque manner. He held up a steel rod and a large wrench. "Uh, found these in the shaft. Looks like someone from the maintenance day shift dropped his tools and jammed the gears. I'm gonna have to report this. You guys coulda been stuck in there a lot longer if I hadn't found this."
"You do that, George." Gibbs gave the man a curt nod and stalked off in the direction of his car. Without slowing down, he called over his shoulder, "You coming, Tony?"
Tony winked at George and mouthed the word, 'thanks,' and ran after Gibbs, grinning. "On your six, Jethro!"
***end ***
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