"It's here?" Tony mutters, moving to stand next to Tim at the elevator.

Tim doesn't turn his head as he jabs the 'down' button. "Yep. It was in today's mail, and I'm already using it."

He doesn't smile when Tony's head jerks toward him either, but that's a closer call.

Tony hisses, "You had it sent to the office?"

"No. I'm not an idiot." They step into the elevator, and when no one else joins them, Tim continues, "It was sent to my apartment. I stopped to pick up a couple of games to play with Willy and found it with my other mail."

The button for the parking garage floor cracks beneath Tony's thumb. "'Willy'?"

Tim blinks at him, then amends, "The 'monster.'"

"Ah. Right. I still can't believe he liked you better than me."

"Oh, yeah?" Shifting as unobtrusively as possible, Tim raises an eyebrow. "Why?"

"It's a little thing called 'coolness,' McGee, something I possess and you, sadly, do not." Tony leans back against the elevator wall and crosses one ankle over the other in what's probably meant to be a cool pose. Then the elevator halts at the garage floor and jolts him sideways. He stumbles out just as the doors close behind them.

Tim doesn't bother commenting; sometimes, it's just too easy. Besides, they have other things to talk about.

Their cars are parked a row apart, so they can head in the same direction without making it obvious. In a low voice, Tim says, "Getting back to the -- the item."

"The special order item." Tony grins. "Y'know, that was a pretty risky move back there, shooting me that sly look after you said you'd special-ordered once."

"I didn't shoot you a sly look."

"You did so."

"Well, maybe I couldn't help myself," Tim retorts, walking more slowly to avoid other potentially painful accidents.

"I'll bet." Tony unlocks his car and opens the door as he asks, "You're seriously already using it?"

Tim swallows. "I have been all day."

He thinks Tony just sucked in a breath, but it's hard to tell amidst the echoes of other vehicles maneuvering in the garage. All Tony says is "I'm glad to hear that, probie."

"Yeah, I, uh -- I thought you might be. So, I'll see you later?"

"Same Bat time, same Bat channel, new and improved Bat gadgets." Tony flashes his teeth again and slides into his car. Now he looks cool.

Getting into his own car, Tim sits down much more carefully than he had in front of Gibbs or Kate. He waits a minute before starting the engine and heading out of the lot, but he fights to keep from speeding all the way home.

At his apartment, Tim doesn't have much to do other than wait. But because just sitting around isn't an option, Tim finds things to do. He changes into NCIS-stamped sweatpants and a T-shirt, but he doesn't think about why that makes him feel so much more comfortable. In fact, he tries to clear his head entirely; thinking makes his body tense up and his fingers itch to ease the tension. Instead he makes a sandwich and munches it while walking around the apartment, cleaning up between bites. The bathroom sink is rinsed down after he brushes his teeth.

Tim has barely finished changing his sheets and making his bed when the front door buzzer sounds. And he barely gets the door open before Tony, similarly attired, plants one hand in the middle of his chest and stalks inside, shutting the door with his other hand.

Tony fists his hand in Tim's shirt to yank him close and kisses him. It's fast, wet, and deep, the usual for them.

"Tell me you're still using it," Tony says roughly when they break apart, his hand staying on Tim's chest. "Better yet, show me."

"Show you?" That isn't an unexpected request, but, God, Tony's voice makes it sound like an order. Tim feels his cheeks flushing, and that heat spreads downward to meet the heat radiating from Tony's palm. It doesn't stop there.

"Yeah, I want to see it."

Tony is still pushing against him. Tim keeps backing up. He looks over his shoulder to make sure he's headed the right way, and when he turns forward again, Tony's hand drags down his chest and stomach to rest at the drawstring of his sweatpants.

Grabbing his hand before it moves again, Tim shudders. With Tony's hand there, the heat has settled much lower. Tim is getting hard -- hard enough that Tony probably feels it already.

Tony gives him a questioning look, and Tim meets his gaze. "Just hold on a second."

"All right." Tony presses the heel of his hand against the hardness beneath it, then drops his arms to his sides. "But we don't have all night."

"I know," Tim says, smiling sheepishly.

They never do; it's too dangerous.

Tim backs up further, through the open door into his bedroom. He tugs off his T-shirt and chucks it toward the corner. The sweatpants come off next. They go into the same pile. Tony's land on top, and Tim's smile widens. "It's a good thing we aren't the same size."

That earns a laugh from Tony, who says, "Hey, speaking of that . . . did they get the size right?"

The sparkle in Tony's eyes hits Tim in the gut. He cups his dick through his boxers, the cotton rubbing him. He gets harder as Tony's eyes follow his movement, and he spreads his legs a little, which eases the pressure. One glimpse of Tony's cock, stiff inside his briefs, tightens everything again.

"Um," Tim finally manages, "yes. Yes, they got it right, but you can check it to make sure."

He pulls down his boxers and turns around, wincing at the renewed strain on his ass.

The base of the plug had him nervously checking the line of his pants all afternoon, regardless of the manufacturer's claims of discretion. The plug is only three inches long, but in diameter -- one and five-sixteenths of an inch -- it matches Tony's cock, which is bare and nudging the back of Tim's thigh now. They were pretty damn drunk when they measured, but it sure as hell feels right, albeit kind of strange.

Tony lets out a long whistle between his teeth. "Jesus, McGee. That's so hot." He traces the edges of the plug, his fingertips brushing the surrounding puckered skin.

"Ahh." Gulping, Tim twitches and wraps one hand around his cock again, just to hold it.

"I thought about you having this in you for hours, driving home with it inside you. I practically had to pull over and jerk off on the side of the road."

Tim closes his eyes at the hitch in Tony's voice. He tries to keep his own steady. "You like it that much, huh?"

"Fuck, yes. It's even better than I thought it would be. But since you've had it in you for so long, I think you deserve the real deal."

"Give it to me, then." Tim releases his cock and bends forward, placing both hands on the bed.

Tony snorts. "Uh-uh. We're doing it on the bed this time. Your floor is harder than my dick right now. Besides, I really want to mess up your hospital corners."

The condom and bottle of lube arc neatly in a toss from his hands to Tony's. Tony sheaths and slicks himself quickly, but his hands linger, stroking unnecessarily, and he grunts. Tim yanks down the sheets, hospital corners be damned. He starts to get on the bed but stops at a gesture from Tony.

"Wait."

Tony steps around to meet him. Leaning in, he presses his mouth to Tim's in a sloppy kiss. He rubs both hands down Tim's back, and when he gently eases the plug free with a thick, wet sound, Tim gasps hard enough to suck Tony's tongue into his mouth.

For a second, Tim can't breathe. He licks helplessly at Tony's lips and shudders while Tony teases him with cool, slippery fingers. He's so hard - so hard -- and his ass feels weirdly empty, and he just might cry if Tony doesn't get inside him soon.

He grabs for Tony's cock and actually says that last part out loud, except it comes out as "Christ, just fuck me already, DiNozzo."

"Since when do I take orders from you?" Grinning and kissing him again, Tony thrusts into Tim's fist, then steps back. He climbs onto the bed, lies down, and directs Tim to kneel over his thighs. Then he says, "Fuck yourself, probie."

Tim lowers himself onto Tony's cock. As inch after inch penetrates him, his eyes roll upward, more in pleasure at the hot, welcome stretch than in annoyance at the nickname. Halfway down, though, he asks, "Are you ever going to stop calling me that?"

"Out there? Nah." Tony closes his hand over Tim's cock, and Tim grips Tony's shoulders for leverage, skin flushed and smooth beneath his fingers. "In here? Maybe, eventually."

"But --"

Tony rubs the head of Tim's cock with his thumb and starts jacking him. "I think it's pretty appropriate at the moment anyway. Don't you, probie?"

"Not really," Tim starts to say, but Tony's hips pump upward without warning, driving his whole cock into Tim's ass. Tim's calves slide on the sheets and his back arches from the intensity of it. Fighting for breath and control under the combined assault of Tony's hand and dick, Tim groans, "Oh, damn, yes."

"Glad to hear it," Tony responds.

Tim rides out the next thrust, the next, and the next. With the fourth, he moves one hand to join Tony's on his cock, urging him to go faster. He loses track of every thrust after the fifth, when Tony arches up and in at the angle that makes Tim see stars.

"More, Tony. Please? Harder," he says, not even caring if he's begging, because having that warm, real flesh in him feels fantastic.

"Luckily for you, your wish is my wish."

Tony fucks him harder, filling him, hitting that spot over and over, and their hands slide, tight and hot, up and down his cock until he comes dripping over their fingers. Tim has to drag Tony's hand away after another minute, just so he doesn't go insane, but Tony is still hard in his ass.

Tim flexes his thighs to lift himself higher and push with more force into Tony's thrusts. He strains and knows Tony feels his ass clenching because Tony's moan is obscenely loud.

"Good. Oh, that's good, good," Tony babbles, thrusting wildly and pulsing inside him. "Good -- God!"

When Tony finally stops shaking, Tim shifts off him. The outward pull makes Tim groan and feel empty again. He pitches the condom, then returns and collapses beside Tony on the bed. Trailing his hand down Tony's arm, Tim sits up enough to kiss him before flopping back again.

They're quiet for a minute. Tim knows that Tony is about to fall asleep, but even if that was allowable -- and it isn't, no matter how much Tim wishes otherwise -- he speaks anyway.

"DiNozzo?"

"Mhmm," Tony mumbles.

"It's getting late."

"I know."

"Do you want to shower first? I can wait until you're gone."

Tony sighs. "Yeah, okay."

After putting on his boxers, Tim dozes on the edge of the bed while Tony showers. He gets up once Tony is dressed and follows him to the door.

There, Tony pauses, pursing his lips like he doesn't know what to say.

Tim knows the feeling. He shrugs. Tony is almost out the door when some words that might be the right ones occur to him, so he lets them out in a rush. "You weren't completely right earlier, you know."

Tony's eyebrows lift. "How's that?"

"I'd say, your wish is my special order," Tim replies. He smiles and waits for Tony's answering smile before he closes the door.

Whistling something he refuses to acknowledge is the "I Dream of Jeannie" theme, Tim heads for the shower. He grabs the plug along the way. It'll need cleaning, too.