Tony's got a big screen TV that gets all the channels. He has good beer in the fridge and he brought home the best takeout ribs in D.C. for dinner. There are two bottles of good bourbon - top shelf stuff - in Tony's liquor cabinet, and the couch is more comfortable than Gibbs' own bed.

Gibbs hates it here.

He shifts on the couch, growls softly and flips onto his back. He shoves a hand behind his head and stares through the dark at the featureless ceiling, reminding himself that he's only got to get through one more night of this and then he can go back home. Goddamn plumbing, and goddamn slow plumbers.

A soft sound drifts down the hall, someone - Tony - in pain or distress. Gibbs throws back the sheet and silently gets to his feet. He reaches automatically for his Sig, sitting holstered on the end table, then hesitates and leaves it there.

He moves down the hall, stealthy and silent on bare feet. Tony's bedroom door is open and there's the sound again, that soft moan. Gibbs' cock twitches in his boxers. He stops just outside the door, wanting Tony to be in pain or in danger or terrified in the grip of a nightmare, but he knows he's not.

He swears viciously, soundlessly, damning Tony to hell, then takes the step that lets him look inside the room.

Tony is lying naked on his back, the covers thrown off, and even though the room is dark, there's enough light leaking through the closed blinds for Gibbs to see Tony's balls between his spread thighs, to see Tony's hard cock and the hand that's stroking and caressing it.

Gibbs feels himself getting hard, and he hates himself for it. He doesn't leave; he stays and watches, and he hates himself for that, too.

Tony's breath is coming faster now and he's working his cock in quick, short strokes. His other hand strays up across his chest and pinches a nipple, hard. He arches up into it and gasps. He pinches himself again and writhes, whimpers.

Gibbs wants fiercely to be on the bed with him, biting Tony's nipples with punishing force.

Tony is panting, jerking his cock hard and fast. "Yes! God! Please!" The hoarse whispered words explode from his lips as if too long restrained. He whips his hand up and down his shaft, his hips lifting off the bed. The keening sound he makes is quiet, but it's enough to rip at Gibbs' guts.

Tony grabs his balls with his free hand, gives a last few hard jerks on his cock, and then he's coming, white semen spurting from his cock and glistening, almost glowing in the darkness of the bedroom.

"Gibbs!" Tony whispers into the darkness, and it sounds like a dying man's prayer.

Gibbs has a soldier's discipline and it takes all he's got to hold himself unmoving, to keep his breathing quiet and his feet planted and his hand off his own rigid, aching cock.

With an unsteady hand, Tony carelessly mops his belly with a corner of the sheet. His head lolls to the side and Gibbs can tell his eyes are open from the faint light gleaming off them.

Gibbs is in deep shadow where he stands, but his t-shirt and shorts are white. He doesn't move. He scarcely breathes.

After a long time - at least a dozen endless heartbeats - Tony takes a deep breath and lets it sigh out slowly. He kicks the sheet away from his feet and rolls over, settling on his stomach with one hand tucked under his pillow and one knee bent. His ass is lush and round, the cleft shadowed in darkness.

Gibbs stands there for a long time, looking at Tony's naked body, so pale and still in the dim light. Finally he turns and walks back down the hall, back to Tony's couch, to spend a sleepless night. Alone.


~ fin ~