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Title:
Eloquent
Rating:
NC-17
Summary: They never stayed the night. Never said anything. And never
acknowledged it.
It started as comfort. A bad case, a dead child,
something they all took too hard. Even Gibbs didn't give them a hard
time over it when he found Kate crying at her desk and Tony hit the
wall hard enough to fracture a bone in his hand.
That was the first time. Gibbs didn't ask questions when Tony showed up
at his house later that night, hand wrapped in a splint and looking
like death warmed over. He just opened the door and the bottle of
bourbon--and later, the condom packet and the lube.
Tony rode him that night, hard and fast, biting his lip as he fucked
himself on Gibbs' cock. They didn't say a word. Not then, not when it
was over, not when Tony got dressed and left at three in the morning.
The next day it was like nothing had ever happened.
The second time was after a bad standoff with a suspect due to the FBI
jerking them around. Gibbs had gotten shot--just a graze, a few
stitches in his arm. Nothing exciting.
That night he'd been the one to show up at Tony's apartment. Tony
opened the door and his bottle of brandy and they didn't say anything.
Just fell into bed, humping each other on top of Tony's thick duvet
until Gibbs rolled over and Tony pushed into him and fucked him until
they both collapsed from exhaustion and satiation.
Gibbs left at three-thirty. They both looked like hell the next morning
but they didn't talk about it. Nothing to say, really.
There was never any rhyme or reason to it. A bad case, maybe. A close
call. Looking for connection in the middle of the night. But the
pattern was always the same. One of them would show up at the other's
place. They'd have a drink, make it to bed, and forget everything
outside the bedroom for an hour or two.
They never stayed the night. Never said anything. And never
acknowledged it.
The rules were unspoken and all the more powerful for that.
And then things changed.
In retrospect, it wasn't anything special. Just another case, another
day, another dead Marine. And in the end, another suspect arrested. No
one was hurt, no one was kidnapped...just a routine case, if murder
counted as routine.
So when Gibbs showed up at Tony's apartment at ten o'clock bearing a
bottle of bourbon and one of Tony's favorite brandy, it was a toss-up
as to which one of them was more surprised.
They drank in silence, both savoring the liquor. When it was gone and
there was nothing left in either glass except amber drops, Tony rose
from his seat, setting his glass down on the end table. Gibbs followed
him into the bedroom.
Kissing wasn't something they normally did. It was too intimate, too
indicative of something more than...whatever this was. But Gibbs
reached for Tony and Tony turned in his arms and then their mouths were
on each other, hot and hungry and tasting faintly of alcohol. They
stumbled to the bed, falling on it, Gibbs licking and biting his way
down Tony's throat and Tony arching up under him, gasping softly.
He was going to leave marks this time, which was also unusual. They
were normally so careful about that, wary of beard burn and bite marks
and anything that would show the next day. But Gibbs sank his teeth
into the spot right where Tony's neck met his shoulder and Tony
groaned, head falling back to expose more of his throat.
There was something more tonight, something almost primitive in the way
they reached for each other. The hunger that rose in them was dark,
hot, fierce--a rush of pure need and lust above anything they'd ever
felt before. Oddly, it made them more careful with each other, hands
reaching for every inch of skin, sliding and caressing, pushing clothes
out of the way instead of tearing them off. Gibbs bent his head to
Tony's chest, teasing his nipples until Tony shivered and pushed him
down on the bed, kissing him almost brutally.
Still no words. They didn't need them.
It was Gibbs who drew his legs up, watching intently as Tony opened his
body, fingers sliding inside and stretching him, nudging the hidden
spot and making him groan deep in his throat. He reached over his head
to grasp the headboard when Tony slid into him, but it was Tony who
shuddered and bit his lip to keep from coming too soon.
Slow at first, deep, even strokes that had Gibbs' hands tightening
around the slats in the headboard. Tony's eyes were closed and he moved
inside Gibbs' body with something more than lust, something approaching
reverence. His lips were parted and his hair was damp with sweat.
Gibbs clenched around him, head thrown back against the bed. His hands
tightened on the headboard, bracing himself as Tony began to move
harder, faster, body caught up in a rhythm neither of them wanted to
resist. And yet the only sounds were the slaps of flesh on flesh, the
grunts and groans of bodies straining for release.
Gibbs came first, crying out silently, mouth open and back arched in
ecstasy. His hands relaxed from their grip and he sank back against the
bed, panting for breath. Tony kept moving, almost pounding into him,
his breath catching with each thrust until he froze, deep inside Gibbs'
body, a ragged groan escaping his throat.
He threw out the condom and stretched out next to Gibbs, watching him
breathe, collect himself. Gibbs turned his head to look at Tony and
reached out for his face, his fingers stroking over Tony's cheek and
down his throat. Tony smiled and kissed the wandering fingers.
Later, they never questioned it. Gibbs didn't leave that night and Tony
woke up with strong arms around him and a warm mouth nuzzling his
shoulder. He turned over in Gibbs' embrace and kissed him and they made
love among the tangled bedcovers, rocking against each other until they
shuddered and cried out and came, holding on like they never wanted to
let go.
That was the end and the beginning, all in one.
They still didn't say anything at work. There was nothing to talk
about. Tony followed Gibbs home that night and they had dinner
together, moving around each other easily in the kitchen. After dinner,
Gibbs went down to work on his boat and Tony perched on the stairs,
supposedly reading a book but in reality watching Gibbs work.
He decided later that Gibbs was right. Sawdust was sexy--on the right
person.
***
The rules are different now. They still don't talk about it. They're
careful not to let anyone see the truth. Not even Ducky knows--or if he
does, he's not telling. But they spend more nights together than apart
now, and the silence that used to mark their time together has
vanished, replaced by laughter and teasing and husky voices crying out
in passion.
Tony loves the sound of Gibbs' voice when it's ragged and hoarse from
desperate lust. Gibbs is addicted to the way Tony talks to him in bed,
whispering filthy things in his ear, teasing him until he's writhing
from Tony's words as much as his touch.
They might have a drink together now and then, but it doesn't mean what
it did before. There won't be a silent night of sex and joyless
pleasure after the alcohol. Neither one of them will get up and leave
in the middle of the night.
Sometimes Tony wonders how they got here. How something that started
with a murdered child and a night of desperate fucking could end up
being something so much more. And if Gibbs knows, he isn't telling.
Then again, they don't need to talk about it to appreciate it.
Sometimes silence works better, after all.
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