Abby likes...
...to watch.
The way I found out was just by accident, of course, but it sent a sizzling surge of nut-tightening lust straight to my dick nonetheless. Oh, yeah. Straight down the length and then rocketing right back up, finally settling to rest into a slow, deep blister of desire right in the pit of my belly, raw and tender. And it continued to stay low in my gut, simmering and smoldering, sometimes twisting tight and causing a dull aching cramp of need, until I'd finally found the one, perfect person to help me turn those exquisite spasms of want into a cascade of cooling relief.
Okay, I think I'm getting a bit ahead of myself here. Maybe I should just go back and start at the beginning. Well, maybe not the *very*beginning but far enough back to ensure no confusion. Yeah, that's the plan...
Stan Burley and I had begun to get a bit careless with our little 'rendezvous' sessions pretty quick into our twisted, dangerous relationship and had started looking for other risky areas where we could 'do the deed'. It wasn't, technically, public sex, I think, but it sure wasn't private either and it sent a new thrill of excitement coursing so sharply through my body and wedging so firmly into my brain it sometimes almost took my breath away. We did things I hadn't experienced in...well, a very long time.
Stan'd been under my supervision for almost a year and a half before he'd begun dropping hints and throwing out signals, some so blatantly obvious a blind man would have been able to see them...at the bottom of a well...at midnight. I was flattered and tempted, to say the least, but very, very leery. Hell, he was inviting me, his direct supervisor, to participate in a potentially dangerous game of hide the salami and I wasn't about to get caught in any devious, underhanded plot, trapped in some sexual harrassment scheme, and losing everything I'd worked so hard to accomplish at NCIS. Nope, just wasn't going to happen, not to me.
Well, we came to a speedy and explosive understanding. Hell, it was downright swift and incendiary. Flash point in sixty seconds...or less. Way less.
One evening, late when we'd thought everyone had gone home for the day, except for those stuck at posts during the graveyard shift, we'd snuck down to the lab to extend the parameters of our illicit game. You have to understand, we'd done the usual, expected spots around the building with remarkable success: the parking lot, the elevator, the men's head...hell, even the *women's* head...and, somehow, Stan had managed to find a place he believed would suit our needs *and* lend a real measure of danger to the mix. I was intrigued...and horny as hell.
Just let me repeat for the record, we'd *thought* we were alone.
It hadn't taken much to figure out where he was leading me, once we'd stepped into the elevator and started descending, but I *did* have a momentary chill of repulsion thinking he'd actually wanted to do it somewhere in Ducky's morgue. I'm a little twisted in some aspects of my life but, to me, that's just plain disrespectful...and sick. A whole lot of sick. To this day, I still shudder at the thought of what I would have done if he'd insisted.
Anyway, there we'd been, pushed tight in a shadowed corner of Abby's lab, just out of range of the security cameras, with our damn pants down around our knees, getting busy, and I'd suddenly caught a flicker of something just over to my left. Shit. Talk about your career flashing before your eyes. With Stan's dick in my mouth and two of my slickened fingers shoved up his ass, I'd known immediately we'd be in a world of professional hurt if what I'd glimpsed was a human.
I'd immediately let him slip wetly from my mouth so I could turn and get a better look, ignored his whimper of disbelieving protest, and carefully peered past the glass divider separating the main section of the lab from Abby's personal work space. It'd been dark in there, so I'd had to really strain to make sense of what I'd been seeing, my eyesight just not as sharp as it'd once been: the muted outline of a shelving unit I'd remembered was full of journals and books, a shadow of the slim cabinet where I'd known Abby kept an extra change of clothing, the blurry edge of a desk she'd used when needing some privacy, and...
...Abby...almost lost within the darkness, sitting as still as a statue at her desk and avidly watching us do our thing. Talk about an instant libido killer! Oh, yeah.
Stan had whined once more in his single-minded quest to get off, big hands sweeping down from where they'd been clinched tight on the edge of the low countertop he'd been leaning against, and only stilled when he'd finally realized my focus was locked elsewhere. When he'd ultimately figured out what...or more precisely, *who*...had captured my attention, he'd yelped once in embarrassed distress, wriggled free of my slippery, invading fingers, and had bent to rapidly tug his pants back up, moving like his hair'd been set on fire. Before I'd even been able to speak a word of assurance, Stan'd turned away and had hustled back toward the stairwell, quickly detouring past the elevator in his haste to leave. Let me tell you, for a big guy, the sucker sure had moved fast.
So, with Stan retreating to who knew where, that'd left me all alone...with Abby. Great.
I remember slowly straightening up from my uncomfortable crouch in the corner, trying to pull my clothing up with as much aplomb as I could master, and carefully tucking my sad, sagging, very disappointed dick back inside, all without taking my gaze from her face...or what I could see of her face. She hadn't moved a muscle the whole damn time and I'd just hadn't known what to think.
The thing about Abby is, well...she's unlike any other woman I've ever known. She can be brutally honest and just as achingly sweet, all in the same breath. She dresses, most of the time, like something right out of a horror movie but has the beliefs and standards akin to those of my deceased, never-missed-a-Sunday, church-going grandmother. I've seen her flirt outrageously like some street-wise, ten dollar hooker and, in the next minute, turn that pale, innocent, irresistable expression my way so all I could see was a ten-year old child. She's a vixen, a lamb, a sinner, a saint, and, probably, the most intelligent female I've ever known in my entire life. I don't believe there's anything in this world Abby couldn't accomplish if she set her mind to it and I think NCIS is damn lucky to have her on the payroll.
And, God help me, she makes my blood run hot.
Okay, let's get something straight: I would never approach Abby like that. God no. I've done a hell of a lot of really stupid things in my life, even *not* counting the three ex-wives I've managed to log up along the way, but I would never put her in a position that could be deemed uncomfortable or unwanted or unbearable for her. I think I'd rather shoot myself in the foot than make her unhappy in any way and, at that moment, I'd been fairly certain I'd just crossed all kinds of emotional and professional boundaries with her...and I'd hated *that* thought even more than wondering about Stan's current frame of mind. Just goes to show where my priorities had lain...
Then, imagine my surprise when, across that darkened distance separating us and through the dimness of her shadowed surroundings, I'd seen a quick, white flash of her gleaming teeth as she'd thrown a knowing, shameless, *interested* smirk of satisfaction my way. Fuuuuuck...
I'd rallied together what dignity I could locate, tried to shoot her my most ego-withering glare...though, I have to admit, it probably hadn't been one of my best...and had walked calmly away, finally deciding a strategic retreat of my own prudent. And how...
Well, it'd taken a long time after that incident to be able to walk into her lab without thinking of that night...and I'd purposefully kept my eyes well away from *that* corner...but it'd taken twice as long before I could look Abby in the eyes without immediately recalling that gleaming, wicked smirk of interest I'd witnessed. Believe me, it'd been conjured up, every now and then, within some dark, twisted nightmare or some hot, erotic fantasy and I was so glad when the day finally arrived when I'd realized I'd forgotten all about it.
When Stan had finally decided he'd had enough of DC...and me...he'd tipped his hat and gotten the hell out of Dodge pretty damn quick and my life had reverted back to being calm, carefree, and uncomplicated. Everything had been just as I liked it.
Until Tony DiNozzo arrived...and, then, my world went straight to hell in a hand basket, quick. Oh, yeah.
It started out as nothing more than a good, solid working relationship: I growled and he jumped, I snarled and he snickered, I barked and he made me laugh. That's all it took. Stick a fork in me, I'm done. The mutual like and respect we shared slowly developed into something more and, as time passed, that mysterios, invisible line that wise men and angels fear of treading near began to blur and diminish.
But we didn't instantly fall into bed. Hell, no. We did the whole, wide range of dance moves long before it got to that point: shimmying away from that dangerous but exciting pull, waltzing and shuffling around the building attraction, tangoing lightly and carefully into tentative touches and caresses, until finally, *finally*, finding our footing in some synchronized, sensuous, seductive salsa. Sure, we'd stepped on each other's toes, occasionally, but, hell, what relationship has its partners strictly in each others arms all the time? None that I ever knew of...
I don't often like to compare Tony and Stan because, really, there are no similarities that I can see. Well, okay...granted, both are damn fine-looking young men and both are excellent sexual partners but that's about the extent of the parallels. The thing is, I found myself relaxing more around Tony than I ever had with Stan and, before I'd realized what'd happened, he'd wormed his way into my heart.
All right, I know that's not a fair assessment. Maybe 'wormed' isn't the best choice of wording. That sounds almost like some bloodsucking infestation or parasitic invasion and that's just not the way it happened, though Abby'd probably get a real kick out of hearing me say something like that.
Abby. See, it all comes right back to her...
I knew she'd, somehow, figured out Tony and I were keeping each other company because she'd started dropping these sly, barely-there innuendoes whenever he or I happened to be alone with her in the lab. I don't know if she'd actually expected one of to just come right out and tell her we were fucking...which we wouldn't...but she'd let us both know she thought it was 'sweet'. No, no...not 'sweet' like bunnies and puppies and tiny, old ladies who smelled of gardenias 'sweet'. I'm talking the kind of 'sweet' that gets your pulse racing and your dick hard and all you can think about is getting off 'sweet'. It was that tone she used, that almost-purring rumble in her throat, and that hot sizzle in her gaze that alerted us both. Oh, yeah...she knew.
Anyway, I ended up telling Tony about the little, aborted scene between me and Stan in Abby's lab while he and I were lazing away one cold, rainy Sunday afternoon tucked up tight at the end of his couch, thinking he'd get a laugh or two out of what had been a very embarrassing moment in my life, but he'd suddenly gone all still and quiet, pulling out of my embrace and withdrawing to the opposite end of the sofa. He'd known about Stan, of course, and I'd never tried to hide any of my prior relationships from him, so that reaction had been...well, just plain confusing and, frankly, scared the shit out of me. I hadn't known what was running through his fertile mind and I sure couldn't imagine him being jealous or angry or shocked, not over something like that and certainly not over Stan. It just wasn't his style.
And then I got a gander at his boner, pushing up the front of his sweatpants, and I knew immediately what it was. Hell, he was turned on! He *liked* the idea of Abby watching, having her eyes focused on Stan and me at our most vulnerable, catching us with our pants, literally, down around our ankles. Those perfect, expressive, green eyes of his had almost glowed with lustful hunger and, when that wet, pink tongue had slipped out to moisten his bottom lip, I'd known what he'd wanted. The problem was, making it happen.
We'd never done anything around the office like Stan and I had, always keeping our private life, well...private. He wasn't a risk-taker, he never saw the need for exhibitionism, and he always wanted to be as comfortable as possible when fucking. Tony'd never given me any indication he'd be satisfied with a quick fix in a restroom or an elevator, always wanting it in a location where we could get horizontal or, at the very least, kneel without getting piss stains ot tread trash on our clothing. He was tamer that way than Stan but I didn't care. I got a hell of a lot more out of my relationship with Tony than I'd ever had from Stan...and I'd all but stopped having those insane nightmares about being hauled off to the morgue for a quickie.
"Abby likes to watch?" He'd asked me in a hot, low, murmured whisper, letting his head fall back against a throw pillow wedged behind his shoulders and bringing a hand down to squeeze himself *tightly* through those thin sweatpants.
Oh, baby, yeah...that's all it took.
The very next day, I found the time to head Abby's way, determined to get this show on the road. If Tony could get that excited over just thinking about Abby watching us, what would he be like if she really did? The thought actually boggled my mind because I knew I'd be the one reaping the benefits, one way or the other. If she refused to go along with my suggestion, I could just continue planting those ripe, visual pictures in his very receptive mind but, if she did agree...oh, Lord, help me.
My appearance in her lab had taken her a bit by surprise because she hadn't been processing anything for me at the time but, as always, she'd swiftly spotted and accepted the large container of cold refreshment I'd brought along, specifically for her consumption. Okay, I'd also wanted to soften her up and hadn't been above using any means available to achieve my goal. I'd known I was about to cross a line with her, professionally and personally, and figured if her hands had been occupied with *something*, there'd be less chance she'd be able to take a swing at me. Sure, I might've gotten a face full of cold caffeine instead of a sweeping uppercut but I'd been willing to take the risk. Plus, I could *vividly* remember what her smile had revealed that night long ago and was counting on her being as amenably interested still.
Well, I hadn't gotten more than fifteen words, tops, into my less-than-perfect, prepared spiel when she'd suddenly broken out into this huge, delighted, girly squeal and thrown herself into my arms, accidentally bumping the lid of her drink loose, and sloshing ice and liquid all down my back and spine. It hadn't been *quite* the reaction I'd been hoping for but it'd been most welcome nonetheless.
The look in Tony's face when I'd finally returned to the bullpen area had been priceless. His eyes had quickly taken in my change of wardrobe and had looked momentarily confused...until he'd seen my smug expression. Oh, boy, that had been all it took. The day had been far from over, filled with tedious, mind-numbing reviews of cold cases, but he'd never stopped grinning like some big, simple-minded fool the complete time. He'd kept throwing these quick, furtive, lust-filled looks my way and I'd been hard pressed at pretending not to notice. Let me tell you, it'd been one, painfully long day and, by the time we'd made it back to my place after work, we'd bypassed any thoughts of supper or television or working on my boat until I'd had the chance to strip Tony naked and given him a small preview of what was to come a few days later.
Even when I'd been buried nuts deep in his ass and he'd been yanking at himself in a pretty hard clip, he'd kept a running commentary of what we'd need to do to get ready for 'The Event'. Yep, that's what he called it. The Event, with a capital 'E'. He'd been almost giddy with excitement, rubbing and stroking his dick, his mouth going a mile-a-minute about preparations and lube and lighting and all kinds of crap, and I'd just kept on hammering away, so turned on and lost somewhere within his stream of babble, wondering how in the hell I'd gotten so lucky...until I'd caught the words 'butt plug'...and I'd promptly lost all control, jammed myself as far in as I could, and just yelled my release into Tony's sweaty back.
Yeah, I know...how romantic. It'd taken me a few moments to gather my wits and get to the point where I could help Tony along but the words 'butt plug' kept teasing at my brain and licking up along my spine. We'd never talked about using toys or aides of any kind, ever, so just the thought of Tony utilizing one of those ass pacifiers on himself had really struck a strange cord deep within me. All I'd been able to picture at the time was his snug hole sucking and clenching and tightening around some slim, rigid object and I'd totally come undone...in a heartbeat.
So, here we are now, two days later, and on our way down to Abby's darkened lab. It's just shy of ten o'clock and there's absolutely no one else in the building, except the security officer at the front desk, the cleaning crew, and two techs who man MTAC overnight. The officer and the techs won't leave their posts, unless there's an emergency, and the cleaning crew isn't allowed in the lab, so we're on our own. Thank God...
...because Tony's fairly vibrating where he's standing near the rear of the compartment, a pained, anxious look marring his smooth face. I glance down and immediately see the problem: he's got a boner the size of the Washington Monument and there's already a wet spot growing near the head. The damn fool has worn those tight, thin slacks that show every rise and curve and dip...and wet spot...he's got. If he'd just stop going commando and find a decent pair of pants a bit thicker than Saran Wrap, I'd...
Well, hell...there's a visual: Tony and Saran Wrap. Christ, why do I put those kinds of images into my own head? Between that and the butt plug, I'm going nuts.
We finish the ride down in silence and the doors open but after I step out I realize he's not following. I turn to find he's got a death grip on the safety rail and seems to be hanging on for dear life.
"What?" I block the door and try not to bark but, damn it, he *can't* be digging his heels in this late in the game. Hell, he's the one who suggested this.
He takes a deep breath and I can see he's trying to calm down but when one hand drops away from the railing and starts to home in on his dick, I quickly reach out and grab his wrist, stopping the action immediately. When he manages to raise his eyes to mine, I can plainly see a mixture of anguish and embarrassment.
"If we go in and Abby's there, I swear I'm going to blow in my pants," he chokes out, half kidding and half not, his voice low and raspy and sexy as hell.
Well, crap. I knew this little fantasy had stoked is fire but I never expected it to rocket him right to the edge. I tug him the rest of the way out and pull him into a loose embrace, holding him close, and trying to think of something to comfort and ease his mind. Maybe humor would help.
"You'd better not blow until I get that plug out and my dick in..."
"Don't!" He hisses and presses his cheek snugly against mine, his shoulders shaking with a mix of lust and laughter, his breath gusting hotly over my ear. "Just...just the thought of you touching that plug makes me want to come!"
Uh, oh...we're screwed. I've been thinking pretty hard about doing a lot more than just touching that plug. Like maybe slipping it part of the way out and then easing back in real slow. Or seeing what he'd do if I just started wiggling it around a bit or tapping on it gently. Probably start moaning and pleading and...
Oh, yeah, there's no doubt about it now: we are *so* screwed.
Keeping a tight rein on my actions, I run a hand gently over his short, soft hair, downward over the back of his neck, and across his tense shoulder blades. "Why'd you go and put it in so early anyway? It's got to be uncomfortable as hell."
He gives a slight shrug and a shallow sigh but stays securely in my arms. "It feels good."
I hum out a note of understanding. "Maybe it feels a little *too* good."
"Too good?" That gets a real laugh and his head comes up, his eyes filling with mischief. "Is that even possible?"
"Maybe," I ease him away, keeping my expression the same, but I'm suddenly remembering the security camera and just have to look that way. Tony senses my unease and follows my gaze, tensing as he realizes where I'm looking, but the camera's not there...just the empty metal support bracketed to the painted wall.
Huh.
Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I turn and move toward the lab's entryway and step into the welcoming darkness, instinctively knowing Tony's right behind. When I stop to let my eyes adjust, I feel him move up close, his big body warm and comforting, and I reach back to take one of his hands into my grip, twining our fingers tightly. Whatever happens, we're in this together.
A hushed snap immediately draws our attention to the right and I can just make out the soft glow of a light spilling from a secluded area far away from this doorway. It's snugged back behind a partition and is well-hidden from the row of windows along the far wall. Even if someone was stupid enough to get down on their hands and knees to look in, they wouldn't be able to see a damn thing from that angle.
Tugging Tony along, I take several more quiet, careful steps in that general direction and finally notice the items spread out on the floor before us, arranged meticulously in the center of the softly falling pool of light: a thin mattress covered with a couple of very clean-looking sleeping bags, two bottles of cold water, a small tube of expensive lube, a sleeve of several condoms...
Whoa! When Abby'd said she'd take care of everything, I hadn't expected this. I'd thought she was just going to provide a safe location for our little trip into insanity. But this...well, I'm touched by her level of consideration but I also get the feeling she's the director and we're just the bit players in some terrible, underground, indie film...or worse.
I catch a shadowed movement and let my eyes rise, finding Abby almot immediately. There she is, cloaked in the shadows, perched atop a low cabinet with her legs tucked up and held in place with the looping position of her arms. I can't see her face but I instinctively know she's watching us...and the thought sends a prickle of lust running straight up my spine. Tony must feel it, too, because he's suddenly releasing a low, soft, almost painful sounding moan.
I turn immediately and bring both my hands up to cup his face, covering his lips with my mouth, and searing him deeply with my passion. He puffs out a stifled, surprised gust of air and then just instantly melts against me, his arms rising so he can place his hands at my waist, grounding us together but balancing himself in the process. I eat at his warm lips, angling his head to one side, getting him right where I want him to be, and just lick and suck and bite and mash until we're both are pretty breathless and ready to move on.
Somehow, I manage to pull back, never releasing my hold on his head, and look into his face. With the muted light pooled somewhere down around our legs, he's mostly shadowed to me, too, but I can smell his arousal, can hear his trembling gasps, and I can sense his aching need for more. I lower my hands to his neckline and begin to undo his shirt, popping the buttons, one by one from their tiny holes, and allowing the soft fabric to just drape over his fine skin.
"Jethro..." he moans my name as his forehead touches mine and I know he's trying to look down to watch the progress of my fingers.
"Sshhhh," I soothe, not wanting him to speak. For some reason, the thought of him silent and naked, in this small, quiet, darkened area, with Abby only a few yards away, sets my head spinning. I lightly run the backs of my fingers from neckline to waistband, over the silky skin, and let my nails tease at the sensitive, delicate flesh of his belly. He tenses and arches, throwing his head slightly back, that long neck stretching and angling before me. "Don't make a sound."
I know my words surprise him because his chin immediately drops and I can feel his confused gaze focusing in on me. There's a wet reflection of light from somewhere around mouth level and I know he's just moistened his lips, trying to chase the sudden dryness away. It's difficult to resist the urge to kiss him again but, somehow, I do. I scratch again at his belly and his head flops to rest against my shoulder, his hands tightening convulsively at my waist. His nod of understanding and assent, when it comes, is barely there.
Getting the belt and pants undone are simple tasks, even though he's leaning close, and I ease both hands inside, sliding over the smooth skin of his hips and angling around to cup his ass. His mouth is wet and hot against the side of my neck and his fingers are digging in at my sides almost painfully. I flex my hands and skim his pants down a few inches, from the inside, before pulling away and pushing him back, holding him at arms length.
Tony's almost panting but the breaths are coming more through his nose than his mouth and I have no problem imagining the quandry he's having trying to keep that mouth shut. I grin at that absurd thought because when DiNozzo gets in gear there's just no way he'll be able to remain quiet. But, for now, this is good, Really good.
Once I know he's steady on his feet, I drop to one knee and ease his shoes and socks from his big feet as quickly as I can, immediately rising back up when finished and slipping his shirt the rest of the way from his body. The pants can wait until we're horizontal and that's where we're headed right now...
Finally on the soft but cold nest prepared for us, I make sure Tony's okay. He's blinking kind of stupidly around, like he's trying to locate Abby's darkened hiding place somewhere outside the arc of our light, but I instantly recapture his full attention by laying beside him and placing my open mouth on one of his nipples. Oh, yeah...here we go.
Tony is bucking up, hissing and whining, one hand fisting the down-filled material near his hip and the other snaking up to hold the back of my head, smooth fingernails pressing against my scalp. I kiss and suck and lick and, then, bring him right to the edge by holding the nub between my front teeth and biting down with just enough constant pressure to border on pain. With one hand low on his belly, I can feel the muscles tightening and spasming as he tries to ride out the sensual assault. The need to feel more of him ratchets up and roll to my knees, yanking the shirt off over my head, the white tee following close behind.
Looking down into his passion-hazed eyes, I can see that damn plug is going to be a real problem. He's panting, open-mouthed now, his hips twisting and arching just enough that it looks like he's trying to work that thing around in his ass, almost fucking himself. I growl low in my throat in warning. He stills momentarily when he hears the sound but, once I strip those pants from his long legs, the motion begins again and I have to use most of my body weight to stop it.
"I'm going to take it out," I whisper hotly into the shell of his ear, feeling a tremble of anticipation and fear course through his body.
His arms are banded tightly around my shoulders, his hot face tucked into the hollow of my neck, and he's making all these tight, soft, little gasping noises that almost sound like distress. As I ease a hand downward, his fingers stop me lightning quick, squeezing hard around my wrist. I rise up and look into his eyes, recognizing the expression immediately.
"I..." he gasps softly, unsure about speaking after being instructed not to but needing to communicate nonetheless. I nod and he continues in a rush. "If you do...I'll come..."
No doubt about that...
...because that's my plan. He really needs to have the edge taken off and, besides running him outside for a quick dip in the Anacostia, there's only one other way I know how to do that. Moreover, if I know him like I think, he'll be good for another round once I get myself buried inside and...
...okay, now *I* have to stop. I ease up on one hip and reach for the nearby sleeve of condoms, snapping one off and ripping it open. Tony's eyes go wide as he watches, knowing what's coming. If possible, he tenses even more.
"Maybe..." he whispers in a rasp and swallows thickly, "maybe you should let me do that. If you touch me..."
The rest just dies away. I understand what he's attempting to say because we've discussed this at length before. I don't know what Tony feels when I touch him but he says it's unlike anything he's ever experienced before. Talk about giving me a swelled head...okay, *two* swelled heads...but, for him, it's the truth. Maybe he's never had a partner willing to take the time to experiment or learn but, to me, there's just no sense in having a lover if you don't fully appreciate what they have and what they offer. And, believe me, Tony has a lot to offer.
I wordlessly hand him the readied condom and watch as he expertly rolls it on, pausing once or twice along the way to grip the base of his dick so tightly, I actually get concerned. If we were at home and alone and in far more comfortable surroundings than these, I would just go down and suck him off, fast and dirty, but here, in a place where we couldn't afford to leave any DNA evidence splattered carelessly about, precautions had to be taken. Plus, as far as I know, this is going to be Tony's first orgasm in a couple of days and, if he delivers like he usually does, I wouldn't be able to catch it all in my mouth anyway. Better to be safe than sorry.
Okay, this is going to sound really corny but, when Tony's like this, he's almost beautiful. He'd kick my ass...or try to...if he ever heard me refer to him as 'beautiful' but it's true. His eyes are all wide and dialated and have this dazed, dreamy quality about them, like he's somewhere far away. And his mouth...crap, his mouth is just plain amazing. Those wet, full lips, red and puffy from our brief but intense round of kissing, is just begging for more. When he's like this, he can have whatever he wants...for as long as he wants it. All he has to do is look at me and...
"Jethro..."
His voice startles me because I didn't realize I'd been woolgathering but, now, I can see he's beyond ready. His dick, even encased in it's thin, translucent, artificial covering is as hard, and as beautiful, as I've ever seen it. Pulsing with each beat of his heart, it's arching up and laying hotly against his warm belly, the flared head almost dipping into his shallow navel. There's pre-come collecting in the tip of the rubber and I start salivating, easily recalling what it's like to lick those thick, mostly bitter dribbles and strands from that overly-sensitive opening, pushing my tongue in, hearing his gasps and pleadings and...
"Jethro, please..."
Crap, what's wrong with me? Kneeling quickly into position between his spread legs and bending to slide my forearms under each of them, I scoop him just enough so I can let the backs of his thighs rest atop mine. The position opens him up and I can clearly see my goal between his ass cheeks, riding snugged withing that place usually reserved only for me, and I feel a sudden surge of lustful jealousy. It's only a toy and I do want it out but, perversely, I also want to examine it, in it's natural habitat.
When I lower a finger and lightly tap against the outer edge, Tony surges up and shouts against the internal sensation. Christ! He's ready to pop and all I did was touch it. His hands are fisted roughly into the sleeping bag, his eyes clinched tightly closed, and his mouth is set in a rigor of almost-pain. His cock is jumping, spasming, and he's rolling his head from side to side. He's so close...
I keep my eyes on his face and press more firmly on the end, sending the slender cylinder a fraction of an inch deeper into his body but he howls again, like I've rammed it in a foot or more instead. I can't begin to imagine what he's feeling but it must be pretty damn remarkable. He's panting harshly and, when I glance down, I can see the slightly-reddened opening flexing around the artificial invader, caught in the conundrum of pushing it out or pulling it in, needing more but wanting it to end. Tony's nuts are drawn up so tight against his body, I could probably get the whole sac into my mouth without too much trouble. The thought of doing that just reels me back to what I really want to be doing: fucking him.
Without preamble, I grasp his dick in my right hand and begin to stroke, thumb repeatedly playing over the head, and setting up the slight corkscrewing motion I know he likes. My other hand...well, my other hand is still between his shaking legs, gripping the end of the plug and giving it a few, sharp, tiny twists and turns. He's making noises I've never heard before and I sudeenly realize I'm close to blowing, too.
Desperately, I know I'm going to have to relinquish one of my hands from it's position so I can get a hold of myself and squeeze my dick into obedience but which one?. I bend forward and rest my forehead low on Tony's stomach and relunctantly release his dick, keeping the pressure steady on the plug the whole time, and immediately hearing Tony's gasp of shocked denial. I reach blindly for his right hand, untangle it from the bunched material, and bring it back to his suddenly-neglected dick, pressing his fingers against the angry organ until he finally gets the hint and begins stroking himself.
Free at last, my own hand shoots down to strangle back the rising orgasm, my fingers digging past the fabric of my slacks to get where the pressure is needed the most, and feel my head rocking a bit from the motion of Tony's body. I remember about the plug trapped down below and begin easing it in and out with my other hand. It must be just what Tony needs because, suddenly, he's panting and gasping, his hand a blur next to my face, his hips rocking and bucking, and I give the plug a harder twist the next time I ease it back in and he's there...
...shooting into the tip of the condom, back arched tight, and legs stiff and straining. I clumsily push his hand aside and take up a slow, steady rhythm, ignoring his faint whine of protest, knowing he'll thank me later for keeping the sensations rolling as long as possible. I gentle my strokes, fingers a relaxed, loose ring around his slowly, softening dick, and reposition my head so I can listen to his hammering heart gradually begin to settle.
Christ.
Before long, I ease up and carefully remove the condom, trying my best to be gentle and wincing right along when a stray hair gets caught. Once off, I knot the tidy container up and toss it near one of Tony's discarded shoes, knowing we'll gather it up before leaving later. I bend back down and nuzzle at the slightly-puffy organ, ignoring Tony's low moan of protest, lapping once at the opening and getting the strong tang of latex for my efforts. But I also get a gentle touch on the head from Tony and that makes it all okay.
His trembling hands pull at my shoulders until I slide all the way up and cover him completely with my body, his skin feeling like warmed silk against my bare chest. This time he gathers my head into his grasp and forces my mouth to his, kissing me deeply, wetly, hotly, letting me know how grateful and pleased and satisfied he is with this experience. He's loose and limber and very relaxed but he knows we're far from finished, especially when he wraps his long legs around mine and humps up a couple of times.
I pull back and look down into his sated face and watch as he licks my taste from his own lips. His smile is lazy.
"You..." he has to clear his throat before he can continue but the smile never wavers. "You have too many clothes on."
"I'm just about ready to take care of that," I agree, thrusting once more against his groin and then pushing back into a kneeling position.
His lanky body comes right along with me until he's sitting awkwardly up and his fingers go straight to my waistband, nimbly slipping the buckle open and deftly taking care of the button and zipper. He presses his face to my stomach and licks at the skin, his flattened, wide tongue lapping at the sweat and then retreating so he can use his teeth to nip lightly. I just kneel there, between his spread thighs, and let him worship me as much as he wants because, make no mistake about it, that's *exactly* what he's doing.
His hands rub and soothe and skim over my torso, up as far as he can reach into the hairline at the base of my skull and all the way down to the backs of my bent legs, the fingertips and palms leaving warm trails of pleasure behind. He's good with his hands...always has been...and this is no exception. But I'm restless for more and I gently ease him away, pushing until he collapses back against the pallet on his elbows, and I quickly rid myself of shoes and socks and shimmy the rest of the way out of my pants. When I kneel back up in front of him, I toss another condom so it lands squarely in the middle of his chest, and arch an eyebrow.
"What are you waiting for?" I murmur, taking in his hot, interested gaze, watching as he pauses to stare appreciatively at my more than ready dick.
He did this to me and he knows it, so I let him look all he wants. Slowly, he levers himself back into position, wincing a little as he does, and stares up at me with those remarkable eyes, never looking away as he tears the small packet open and blindly sets the disk of rolled latex into position at the tip of my dick. The contact alone feels so damn good I let a little hiss of pleasure escape. He just smiles again and leisurely begins to unroll it down my length, fingers smoothing and settling the thin covering, his eyes dancing with obvious mischief. As much as I like seeing all of Tony's other expressions, I think I like this carefree, playful side the best. Maybe it's because, on the job, there just isn't a whole lot of room for lightheartedness.
He finally finishes and just sits there looking up at me, all playfulness slowly leaching away. I can see him swallow thickly as he realizes what's in store and I have to hold back my own grin of satisfaction.
This time, when I reach out and push gently against one of his shoulders, he immediately gets the message: I want him on all fours...now. He turns and rolls and lets out a strange, low grunt, steadying himself in the middle of the covers. He quickly lowers his head and his hands immediately start grabbing for some purchase. I sidle close and sit back on my heels, looking at his upturned ass. Ah...there's the problem. That pesky plug has slipped a bit and I can see Tony's working hard to keep it inside. But he's come once already and he's more relaxed and his muscles are just being contrary.
Guess I'll have to help him out. How generous of me...
I lean forward, grab an ass cheek in each hand, and zero in on the little invader, licking hotly right along its edge. Tony bucks forward in shocked surprise.
"Jesus!" He hisses and grabs the fabric tighter, his knuckles turning white from the pressure.
Well, I like that reaction, so...
I lick again, swirling my pointed tongue around and around the spasming hole, tasting a combination of heavy musk and latex. Tony's beginning to tremble now, just slight shudders each time I touch that sensitive area right around the plug, so I decide I should just keep on doing it.
"Jethro..." he gasps and has to drop his shoulders lower, resting his head on one forearm. Oh, I like this position even more...now, he's wide open and just asking for the taking.
"Are you ready?" I taunt without meanness because I know he is...hell, he's been ready for two days now. Still, I want to hear him say it.
Yesssss..." he moans, and follows it with a rasping, "pleassssee..."
That's enough. I gently but securely grab the end of the plug and start drawing it outward, one hand rubbing soothing circles on the small of his back. The trembling is getting worse but, when I take a quick look under, I can see he hasn't begun to get hard again yet. That's okay. He will.
Once out, I toss the slightly-larger than finger-sized purple object to one side and frown. I honestly thought it'd been bigger than that, especially from all the squirming he'd done on the elevator earlier, but maybe that's all he can handle...for right now. Okay, see...there I go again, putting strange ideas into my own head.
I put my mouth right back over that slightly-gaping opening and push my tongue as far inside as possible, hearing Tony's muffled moans rising up from the sleeping bag. He likes this, I can tell, so I pull his ass cheeks apart as wide as I can and just go to it, licking and biting and swirling my tongue in and around as much as I can. I don't have much finesse but he sure doesn't seem to mind. Hell, no.
My throbbing dick rudely reminds me I have other things to take care of so I quickly lean to one side and grab the tube of lube, snapping the cap open with a thumb and depositing a generous gob on two fingertips of my right hand. I know it's going to be cold but I'm too ready to go any slower now.
Getting up right behind Tony's ass, I carefully slip a finger easily into him, feeling a slight clench and spasm as the muscles try to identify this newest intruder but accepting it without protest. Another moan drifts up and I add the slickened second finger, pushing steadily in until I'm as deep as I'm going to get. Oh, this feels good...but my dick is, once again, reminding me of how much better it would feel once it got invited in, too.
Can't argue with that...
I know that's not much preparation but I figure it's enough, so I slip my fingers from that hot, sweet spot and smear what's left of the lube all over my aching dick, determined to get the guest of honor to the party right away. I snug up close, postion the head, and push...
Ahjesusfuckingchristthatfeelssodamngood...
I have to stop as soon as I'm in or the little soldiers are going to come marching on out, double time. I drape myself over Tony's heaving body, slip my arms under his chest, and then reach up to hook my hands over his shoulders, pulling us tightly together. I've got a secure hold on him now and, even though this doesn't leave much room for movement, I figure it'll be good enough for a while. Just to prove my point, I ease out and the ease right back in...
Oh, yeah...that's nice.
"Jethro..."
I'm surprised he's talking at all but I immediately answer his whisper with some precise enunciation. "Hhhmmm?"
"Fuck me."
Ah, hell, screw 'good enough'...the boy wants it all. Releasing my grasp on his shoulders, I rise up and grab his hips tightly. "You sure?"
"Ye..."
I don't need to wait for the complete reply. I start driving myself in, hard, repeatedly, just wanting to crawl right up in there with my dick. It's hot and tight and driving me right along to my happy place. Suddenly, Tony's up on his hands, rocking back to meet my thrusts, his head turned just enough so he can see me over one of his shoulders.
"Har...der," he manages between stabs.
And I do...for a while. I can feel my nuts tightening and drawing up, so I know it's almost over. Crap, it's good and Tony's good and I'm good and...
A low moan just to our left reaches our ears simultaneously and we snap our heads in that direction, peering into the darkness, never slowing our rhythm. Abby's dim silhoutte is barely visible but what we do see sends us both rocketing into another solar system.
Slumped down, with her legs spread wide and her short skirt hiked up around her waist, Abby's got a couple of fingers buried in her pussy and is just going to town. I feel Tony's reaction more that hear it because the shadowed sight of Abby has started this weird buzzing noise in my ears. Oh, yeah. She's getting off on us getting off and it's making me want to get off even more.
It's a damn, viscious cycle of a merry-go-round...and I'm *so* hooked.
Tony's supporting himself on one hand now, the other busy on his reawakened dick, and his eyes are glued to Abby's darkened position. He's slamming back against me, rattling my teeth, setting my hair on end, and I feel it coming...
I grind myself into Tony, bruising his hips with my grip, grunting from the effort, my breath ragged and hard and panting. Almost there now...almost there.
Tony's keening, a tight, painful sound, and it goes straight to the tip of my dick, setting it aflame, burning and scalding and blistering. I'm on fire, burning away like a candle...and my wick's way up inside the damn furnace.
Here it comes, here it comes, hereitcomes...
God.
When I finally come to, I'm still covering Tony's body, smashing him flat into the sleeping bags, and it takes a moment to figure out what exactly happened. I try to roll to one side but feel like a limp noodle, all muscle and skin but no damn bones to makes things right. And speaking of limp noodle...
I wince as I feel the sticky mess between our bodies and immediately know the damn condom's taken a hike. Oh, this is going to be so ugly.
"Qu...tit," Tony mumbles dopedly from somewhere within the folds of the thick fabric.
"What?" I rasp, not understanding his message.
His head rotates slowly and he blinks sleepily back over his shoulder. I can see a thin line of drool trailing from a corner of his mouth and have to stifle a grin. Can't quite call him 'beautiful' right now.
"I said," he husks out, "quit it."
"I'm not doing anything," I grouse in self-defense.
"You moved," he mumbles in response.
"Well," I try to explain and seriously hope his brain will play catch-up, "we're still on the floor in Abby's lab and..."
"Shit!" He hisses and attempts to roll out from under me. Yeah, like that'll work any better.
I swear I try to help and, finally, we somehow both just end up on our backs, side by side, looking up at the shadows playing across the ceiling overhead. It's very quiet and we immediately know Abby's gone. I feel Tony roll toward me and glance in his direction.
Ah, crap. He's got *that* look on his face again.
"What?" I really, really don't think I want to know but, damn it, I just can't help myself.
"That was nice," he grins lazily.
"Nice?" I think I'm a bit horrified...and insulted...by his response. If that was just 'nice' to him, what would it take to get a 'great'? "You think what we did was *nice*?"
"Well, yeah, don't you?"
"Hell, no," I bark softly and reach out to rest a hand on his bare hip. "I think that was mind-blowing."
"Yeah?" He sounds so pleased.
"Oh, hell, yeah," I guess I sound kind of pleased, too.
I know we should get up, get dressed, and get all this stuff ready to transport out but we just lay here like two, big slugs. Somehow, Tony's worked his way over and is now laying close, one scratchy cheek touching my shoulder and one smooth leg thrown over one of mine. I'm petting that leg, his skin a nice contrast to the flesh of my palm, and I'm almost hypnotized by the repetitive, random motion.
"So," he breaks the silence and I immediately go on alert because there's just something about that 'so' that reeks of danger, "I was just wondering..."
Shut up, shut up, don't respond, don't make a sound, just lay here and be quiet, ignore him and he'll...
"What?" Crap. The word escapes from my mouth before I can contain it.
"Well, I was just thinking...if Abby liked that, I wonder what else she likes?"
God help me, I've created a monster...
FIN
Author's Chapter Notes:
In shadowed corners, darkest desires can be illuminated.