"You like what you see, DiNozzo?"

The voice in his ear belongs to Gibbs, so Tony guesses that the body radiating heat against his back does, too. But he won't turn from the window and look, just like he won't say 'I like what I feel better'; he couldn't make it sound like a quip right now. He crosses his arms and says instead, "I decided to keep an eye on Ms. Reed while you talked rent with the landlord."

They don't have surveillance equipment yet, but they had to scan the view -- what Chris saw -- and Tony stayed at the window automatically, its sill meeting the line of his belt.

"Good." Gibbs leans closer, chin almost resting on Tony's shoulder as they stare across the street.

Amanda's window reveals her, wearing a fluffy white robe and flipping through some magazine. And Tony won't deny her hotness, even if she's slightly older than his usual female companions are. His taste runs differently than he used to think, though, considering that Gibbs is years older and making him hard just by standing behind him.

"I guess she's not doing anything interesting right now." Tony grins, figuring that's a safe statement.

His grin slides askew when Gibbs says, "I can see that," and palms the front of Tony's pants. "Maybe, since you're available, we should do something interesting -- just for practice."

"Practice?" Twitching slightly, Tony aims for the light tone he couldn't muster before. "I'm not sure what you have in mind, boss, but I doubt I need practice at it."

"DiNozzo, we both know you're a good agent. You just need . . ." Gibbs cups Tony's cock through his pants. Tony groans, hips jerking forward, and grabs the windowsill with his right hand, the frame with his left. "To learn to focus."

"I'm very focused," Tony mutters, propping his forehead against the window.

He doesn't clarify on what he's focusing. There's Gibbs' warm fist, sealed tight and jacking with abrupt movements. There are fingers twisting around him like complicated, dirty words in sign language. And there's how much harder Tony gets from seeing all that reflected in the window to them alone, as invisible from the street as everything out there is to Tony now.

Gripping Tony's neck with his free hand, Gibbs forces his head up again like he knows Tony's thoughts. "But you're focusing on the wrong thing."

"Yeah?" Tony rolls his eyes, mostly because Gibbs has stopped stroking and is squeezing him roughly. Shifting, he can feel Gibbs hardening against his ass. Tony clears his throat, but his voice still sounds thick. "So, what should I focus on, oh, wise one?"

Gibbs presses his thumb hard along the side of Tony's throat for a second before moving his hand and pointing out the window -- or maybe directly at it. His other hand rubs one more time over Tony's cock, pressed damply and so hard against his zipper.

"Come on," Tony grunts, hoping for an answer that involves more up-close, personal interaction with that quick, hot hand.

"Focus on the truth, DiNozzo, and your gut instincts. That's all we've got." Then Gibbs steps away.

Tony has to clutch the window frame to keep from stumbling backward. And this time he does turn to watch, gaping when Gibbs doesn't even look back, let alone finish what he started.

"Boss," Tony yells. "Gibbs!" He laughs, exasperated, and returns to the window long enough to bang his skull against it several times. "Oh, fuck."

His gut instincts tell him to jerk himself off in the bathroom to nice visions of Amanda, slipping off her robe in full view. When he yanks down his pants and briefs to wrap his hand around his cock, though, the truth doesn't quite match.