Gibb likes it best when it's this time of night--two, three, even four, when it's not quite too early and not quite too late and everything is hushed and dark. He likes being awake at this time, likes it when he can watch the night outside his window or work on his boat in the silent house, when it's just him and the dark world around him.

It's three-seventeen in the morning and he's sitting in his bed, looking out the window at the cloudy night sky. It's windy and he hears the branches rattle against the window, leaves rustling in the breeze. There's a cold cup of coffee next to him, which he ignores. Cold coffee is better than no coffee, but he's not in the mood for either right now.

What he *is* in the mood for is lying next to him, sound asleep and sprawled out over about two-thirds of the bed. Long limbs, dark hair, the relaxed, peaceful features of someone sleeping the sleep of the innocent.

Or something, given that Tony's about as far from innocent as Gibbs is from eighteen.

Gibbs smiles wryly and settles back down in bed, curling up behind Tony and sliding an arm around his waist. Tony sighs in his sleep, pressing back against Gibbs. His head falls forward and Gibbs kisses the nape of his neck, breathing in the scent of Tony's skin.

He rests his forehead against Tony's shoulder, shifting them both so his cock nestles against Tony's ass. He's already half-hard and just the feel of Tony's body against his own is enough to get him fully erect in seconds. He kisses Tony's throat, breath whispering over sleep-warmed skin, and hears Tony mumur something unconsciously.

If this was anyone else, any other situation, Gibbs would never do this. It's too close to too many things he despises. He doesn't take advantage of his partners; he's never needed to. And he thinks people who do are as low on the food chain as out-and-out rapists. Dubious consent is no consent, full stop.

So naturally, the first time Tony admitted he had this fantasy of being woken up by Gibbs making love to him, Gibbs said no. Just no. He wouldn't do that. Wouldn't take advantage of Tony, no matter how much he wanted to let his hands run over Tony's body, watch him respond and sigh and make those beautiful soft sounds in the back of his throat. He wasn't going to do that.

Until he'd found himself lying next to Tony, watching him sleep, and his fingers had traced their way down the line of Tony's throat and his chest, tracing patterns over his skin, and Tony's legs had fallen apart and his head had dropped back and he'd moaned in his sleep.

Gibbs still remembers the way Tony had looked in that moment, flushed and lax against the bed, his cock half-hard and his head turned to the side.

Tony had woken up at some point, although Gibbs still isn't sure when. He just remembers that one moment Tony had been asleep and the next he'd heard a sleep-roughened voice telling him to get up there and kiss him.

"You're not taking advantage of me," Tony had said, later, when they lay in bed listening to the rain fall. "You couldn't."

"Tony--" Gibbs had tried to say something, but Tony put his fingers over Gibbs' lips.

"You're not. I want this, Gibbs. You're not taking advantage of me." Tony had looked a little sheepish. "I can't tell you why I want this. But I swear you're not doing anything to me I don't want." He'd shrugged a little. "I don't think you could."

Gibbs remembers that now, when he's got Tony in his arms and it's dark outside and all he wants to do is make love to him. He kisses Tony's shoulder, runs his hand down Tony's stomach, his fingers trailing over Tony's cock. Tony murmurs in his sleep, his cock hardening under Gibbs' gentle touch.

Getting the lube is a bit of an effort and Tony makes a small noise of protest when Gibbs shifts away from him long enough to grab it. Gibbs kisses his shoulder, runs his hand down Tony's arm, and Tony subsides with a soft sound.

He nudges Tony's thighs apart, pushing one leg up to make it easier for them both. Tony's limp and relaxed and there's almost no resistance when Gibbs slicks his cock and pushes into him, sheathing himself in velvet heat.

Tony's cock has softened a little, but when Gibbs wraps his hand around it it hardens again quickly, twitching in Gibbs' hold. Gibbs kisses Tony's shoulder and begins to move, gentle shallow thrusts that make his eyes close with pleasure.

He knows the instant Tony wakes up--there's a gasp, a groan, and Tony clenches around him instinctively. Gibbs doesn't stop moving and Tony groans again, head dropping forward. "Oh ffffuck," he groans, pushing back against Gibbs. "God."

His voice is rough and husky with sleep and his body's still loose-limbed and pliant under Gibbs' couch and Gibbs is beginning to see the appeal of this type of alarm clock. He's still got an incoherent, raspy-voiced Tony next to him--only this one is hot and tight around his cock and his back is warm against Gibbs' chest and he's grunting with pleasure, not annoyance.

Gibbs shifts a little behind him, angling his thrusts differently, searching for the sweet spot. On his fourth stroke he gets it right and Tony moans, long and low. "Fuck," he groans again. "Oh, Christ, Gibbs..."

He closes his eyes, his forehead resting against Tony's shoulder. Every pull on his cock makes Tony shudder now; every time Gibbs moves Tony groans in desperation. He's twisting helplessly between Gibbs' cock and his hand and Gibbs doesn't think he's ever seen Tony this wanton before.

Gibbs licks the tendon in his throat, bites down just behind his ear. Tony gasps and shivers and his head falls to the side. He's trembling now, his arm flung out across the sheets. Gibbs knows he's close--he rubs his thumb over the head of Tony's cock, jerking him just that much harder as he thrusts into Tony's body.

Tony arches back, his mouth open in a silent cry as he comes, warmth spilling over his stomach and Gibbs' hand. He's still panting for breath when Gibbs lets go of the last remnants of his self-control and comes with a groan.

Gibbs pulls out of him carefully and Tony grabs the tissues to clean them off. He throws them in the general direction of the wastebasket and rolls over into Gibbs' arms, cuddling close. Gibbs presses a kiss to Tony's forehead and strokes his back, resting his cheek against Tony's hair.

Tony kisses his collarbone, his lips warm. "Thank you," he murmurs, already drifting back into sleep.

Outside, clouds are chasing each other around the sky and the black of the night is slowly giving way to darker blue. Gibbs breathes in the scent and feel of Tony's body, warm skin and muscle against his own, and spares one quick look out the window before closing his eyes and letting sleep wrap around him.

He likes it best when it's this time of night. He always has.