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Baby, you can drive my car
For oceana_: Gibbs/Tony, car.
The thing about modern cars is that they're not really designed for making out, or sex, or anything like it. It's not like the big boat cars of the 60s and 70s, with the big bench seats and the extra room in the backseat. Modern cars just don't have that.
Not that it's ever stopped me before. I mean, sure, I've wound up with some uncomfortable impressions from a gearshift in my back, or a steering wheel in my side. And once a girl I was seeing nearly broke my nose when she accidentally pushed me into the armrest in the backseat. Once we stopped laughing, the sex was pretty fantastic.
I never figured Gibbs for the car sex type. I never figured him for the gay sex type either, but the first time he shoved me up against the wall and kissed the life out of me that idea went out the window, along with most of my functioning brain cells. I can't really say I minded.
See, the thing about Gibbs is that he likes to keep me off-balance. Which means he'll do pretty much anything to me, anywhere, anytime. And if he wants to grab me by my shirt collar and shoves me into the backseat of his car in the parking garage and undoes my pants and jerks me off hard and fast, or if he wants to make me suck his dick while we're parked under a tree and the only thing keeping us from being seen is the darkness outside...
I didn't come up with these examples by accident. That's all I'm saying.
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