Five Card Draw, NCIS, DiNozzo/McGee, NC-17
Title: Five Card Draw
Rating: NC-17
Pairing/Character: DiNozzo/McGee
Summary: McGee thinks he knows how to play the game, but Tony is king of the hustle.
Warnings/Spoilers: Frottage, gratuitous damage to clothing, literally dirty sex. No spoilers but set pre season 8.
A/N: Written for 7tree_hugger because she asked for it.
Tony was not happy. On a scale of Happy to Someone Will Die, Tony was rapidly approaching the homicide zone.
His mud coated slacks were clinging to his legs; water was oozing upwards and causing chafing in areas that really should not be chafing. His immaculately tailored jacket would never look the same again, and his Italian leather shoes were sliding on the woodland floor. He'd count it a blessing if he didn't face-plant into the leaf-strewn ground. Again.
And somewhere, up there, was McGee. McGee who had found a way to cheat at Rock-Paper-Scissors. McGee who, as his probie, shouldn't have argued and should have just obeyed. McGee who had waved him off from the top as he had slid down the embankment to retrieve a damn watch that might have fallen down here and might have information on it. Well, there was no watch, and now the light was fading he wouldn't be able to see it even if it was down here.
"Hey Tony!" The cry of a soon-to-die McGeek sounded in the forest. "Found anything?"
"King Solomon's mine, the lost city of Atlantis and Jimmy freaking Hoffa!" Tony snapped back, because of all the stupid questions to ask.
"Well you can stop," McGee called down, and Tony luxuriated in the sense of relief. That is, until McGee carried on as Tony half climbed, half slid back up the side of the gully.
"Ducky found it about an hour ago." Tony felt McGee's arm twist around his own, pulling him back up into what was left of the daylight. McGee tried to let go, but Tony gripped hard on McGee's arm, holding him in place.
"Excuse me?"
McGee was smirking as he pulled his arm away from Tony’s grasp.
"Turns out the watch was buried in the mulched remains. It's trashed but Abby said she’ll see if she can retrieve anything from the flash drive."
"An hour ago," Tony repeated, and frankly he thought he deserved an Emmy for how calm he sounded. Maybe an Oscar.
"Yeah, about that, see there was really bad signal so I had to walk around for a while before I could hear Gibbs clearly. Then it took me ten minutes to find my way back here again. Sorry."
McDeathwish did at least have the wisdom to look apologetic on his face. Shame, Tony thought, that the rest of his body language is screaming "PAYBACK!"
"You got lost getting back to a van equipped with GPS while using a cell equipped with GPS?" Tony clarified, still biding his time, letting McGee show his cards.
"Like I said, bad signal." There was a change there, both in the tone and in McGee's face. As though lowly Probie had laid down his full house and suddenly realized that Tony might have four of a kind.
"So, when you told me Gibbs said to keep looking?"
Tony flipped over his ten, jack and queen. He watched from beneath furrowed brows as McGee started to back towards the van.
"Oh that was before I got the call." There was a metallic thunk as McGee hit the side panel, reducing his escape routes. Tony nodded as he completed his royal flush.
"That was less than fifteen minutes ago."
The phrase "Oh shit" hung between them as McGee worked out that he had just been beaten and was at risk of being literally beaten. He smiled nervously, eyes darting around for some way of getting inside. But all the doors were too far away, and Tony was pretty damn sure that, even tired as he was, he could get to them before McGee.
It was a much better idea to just smack his hands into the metal on either side of McGee's head. More dramatic, more satisfying when McGee jumped and then looked first ashamed for flinching, and then defiant.
He still didn't say a word though.
"Why do you like making me angry, McGee?" Tony's voice was a low rumble, and he made a mental note to practice it later. It sounded threatening, and from the looks of McVictim, it worked.
"I think green is your color, Dr Banner," said McGee, with an impressive amount of wit considering the situation.
Tony could easily have laughed then. He could, really, and then he would've smeared McGee in some of the slime and they would have gone back and washed up, and maybe later McGee would have made it up to him.
But Tony didn't laugh. He pressed bodily up against McGee, his head to the side so that he could whisper in McGee's ear.
"Hope you're not too attached to this K-Mart jacket," he mocked, yanking down on one sleeve. There was a satisfying rip of cheap stitching giving way, and Tony was grateful that McGee‘d had to go back to the off-the-peg suits he’d worn pre-Gemcity. The designer ones were much sturdier.
He did the same on the other side, pushing McGee hard into the van to stop him shifting, stop him from allowing the fabric to fall off him rather than split at the seams.
"Tony, what the-" McGee protested but got no further because Tony wrapped both hands around his neck, thumbs brushing his jaw and pulling it downwards. McGee fought a little but eventually capitulated.
Tony could feel cloth-covered hands stroking his biceps and smiled into the kiss as he realized just how much damage he'd done to McGee's suit.
"You wrecked my jacket," he mumbled into McGee's open mouth, and lost all interest in finishing the sentence when McGee's leg shifted between his. McGee's dry pants-leg rubbed against the damp material of his own, a strange combination of cold, sliding pressure against his cock that couldn't help but stir it.
And goddamit McGee knew that. Well, this wasn't his little game to play anymore.
Tony moved a mud-slicked hand down between them, cupping McGee's crotch and extending his fingers until they brushed the fabric right where his balls should be. Tony sucked down hard on McGee's bottom lip as he jumped and pushed into Tony's hand. That had the unexpected side effect of pushing the hand into Tony's groin, the smooth slide further thickening his cock behind the layers of briefs and slacks.
Tony was distracted, too distracted, distracted enough to almost miss McGee's hand leave its place on his arm and begin to undo his pants. Tony grabbed it and slammed it into the wall of metal behind him. As a precaution, he repeated the action with the other hand, holding McGee in place and drinking down every whimper as they thrust against each other.
Tony was almost hard now, and McGee couldn't be much further behind from the feel of it. As he ground into McGee's thigh, he shifted just slightly. Just enough to get that high-pitched noise that McGee would deny he made, if he was even aware he made it at all. The one that Tony could draw out of him sometimes, when it was so good that McGee would probably beg for it if Tony asked him to. On every upwards motion, their cocks rubbed against each other, until Tony pushed harder and further and then every movement was just furious rubbing, lubricated only with the coating of mud now on both their clothes. There was just enough friction to make it interesting, just enough slide to make it good.
Tony could feel himself about to come and couldn't help it. He pushed the hand back between them, the pressure of it sliding into the gap and the feel of McGee's cock thrusting into it too much. He felt McGee's free hand curl into his hair and pull at it slightly, exactly the way he liked it and he could honestly have gotten down and worshipped the floor McGee walked on just then. The hand tugged and stroked and brushed through his hair as his orgasm jolted through him.
He could distantly feel McGee still thrusting against him, and shifted his own hand further downwards, feeling for McGee's balls through his pants. He rolled and played with them as best he could until McGee tensed and shuddered, hips shoving forward in increasingly ragged movements.
The kiss that had only been broken for air and half-gasped curses finally fell apart as McGee's head fell back against the van and Tony's fell forward against McGee's neck. They both stayed for a while catching their breath, the scent of McGee's aftershave mingled with sweat all that Tony could smell anymore. He wanted to taste it, but couldn't even summon the energy for that.
After a while, McGee straightened up, pushing Tony gently away and catching him by the arm. "It's late, we have to get back."
"Yeah." There was a reason they had to get back, Tony was sure of it. Couldn't remember what it was right now, though.
"I'll drive," McGee said, jingling the keys as he pulled them out of his pocket. Tony looked down for the first time and laughed. The now dangling sleeves were hanging over McGee's palms, making him look like a boy wearing his dad's suit.
As if for emphasis, McGee held an arm up and watched as the fabric succumbed to gravity, falling over his fingers. Tony just laughed harder.
"You're going to pay for this, Tony." McGee warned with a grin. Tony stepped up into the passenger seat and glanced over as McGee shucked off the ruined garment.
"I think I've got a Jackson in my pocket that'll cover it."
McGee glared and then rolled his eyes, starting the engine. Tony didn't care, afterglow still firmly in control of his sense of humor. Reality was beginning to seep in though, and one thing struck him.
"If anyone asks," he said "I pulled you down." As excuses went, Tony liked ones that had a root in the truth.
"Tony, everyone else went home half an hour ago."
Tony considered this. "So we have the office to ourselves?"
"Well sure,” McGee replied sarcastically. “So long as you ignore the security cameras, guards, anyone like you who works late from any of the other teams. Should I go on?"
Tony pouted at him "It was just a thought."
McGee shook his head. "You're incorrigable."
"You incorrige me."
"That does not make any sense." McGee looked like he was truly trying to make sense of it, screwed up in contemplation.
"Sure it does, now get the van back, drive me to your place and I will show you exactly what that means." Tony suspected that the last comment would have had more emphasis if he hadn't been yawning. But he was tired, damn it, and he deserved a quick cat-nap.
"Maybe later, Senior agent."
As Tony drifted off to sleep, he vowed one thing.
McGee would learn not to let his mouth make bets his ass couldn’t cover.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing/Character: DiNozzo/McGee
Summary: McGee thinks he knows how to play the game, but Tony is king of the hustle.
Warnings/Spoilers: Frottage, gratuitous damage to clothing, literally dirty sex. No spoilers but set pre season 8.
A/N: Written for 7tree_hugger because she asked for it.
Tony was not happy. On a scale of Happy to Someone Will Die, Tony was rapidly approaching the homicide zone.
His mud coated slacks were clinging to his legs; water was oozing upwards and causing chafing in areas that really should not be chafing. His immaculately tailored jacket would never look the same again, and his Italian leather shoes were sliding on the woodland floor. He'd count it a blessing if he didn't face-plant into the leaf-strewn ground. Again.
And somewhere, up there, was McGee. McGee who had found a way to cheat at Rock-Paper-Scissors. McGee who, as his probie, shouldn't have argued and should have just obeyed. McGee who had waved him off from the top as he had slid down the embankment to retrieve a damn watch that might have fallen down here and might have information on it. Well, there was no watch, and now the light was fading he wouldn't be able to see it even if it was down here.
"Hey Tony!" The cry of a soon-to-die McGeek sounded in the forest. "Found anything?"
"King Solomon's mine, the lost city of Atlantis and Jimmy freaking Hoffa!" Tony snapped back, because of all the stupid questions to ask.
"Well you can stop," McGee called down, and Tony luxuriated in the sense of relief. That is, until McGee carried on as Tony half climbed, half slid back up the side of the gully.
"Ducky found it about an hour ago." Tony felt McGee's arm twist around his own, pulling him back up into what was left of the daylight. McGee tried to let go, but Tony gripped hard on McGee's arm, holding him in place.
"Excuse me?"
McGee was smirking as he pulled his arm away from Tony’s grasp.
"Turns out the watch was buried in the mulched remains. It's trashed but Abby said she’ll see if she can retrieve anything from the flash drive."
"An hour ago," Tony repeated, and frankly he thought he deserved an Emmy for how calm he sounded. Maybe an Oscar.
"Yeah, about that, see there was really bad signal so I had to walk around for a while before I could hear Gibbs clearly. Then it took me ten minutes to find my way back here again. Sorry."
McDeathwish did at least have the wisdom to look apologetic on his face. Shame, Tony thought, that the rest of his body language is screaming "PAYBACK!"
"You got lost getting back to a van equipped with GPS while using a cell equipped with GPS?" Tony clarified, still biding his time, letting McGee show his cards.
"Like I said, bad signal." There was a change there, both in the tone and in McGee's face. As though lowly Probie had laid down his full house and suddenly realized that Tony might have four of a kind.
"So, when you told me Gibbs said to keep looking?"
Tony flipped over his ten, jack and queen. He watched from beneath furrowed brows as McGee started to back towards the van.
"Oh that was before I got the call." There was a metallic thunk as McGee hit the side panel, reducing his escape routes. Tony nodded as he completed his royal flush.
"That was less than fifteen minutes ago."
The phrase "Oh shit" hung between them as McGee worked out that he had just been beaten and was at risk of being literally beaten. He smiled nervously, eyes darting around for some way of getting inside. But all the doors were too far away, and Tony was pretty damn sure that, even tired as he was, he could get to them before McGee.
It was a much better idea to just smack his hands into the metal on either side of McGee's head. More dramatic, more satisfying when McGee jumped and then looked first ashamed for flinching, and then defiant.
He still didn't say a word though.
"Why do you like making me angry, McGee?" Tony's voice was a low rumble, and he made a mental note to practice it later. It sounded threatening, and from the looks of McVictim, it worked.
"I think green is your color, Dr Banner," said McGee, with an impressive amount of wit considering the situation.
Tony could easily have laughed then. He could, really, and then he would've smeared McGee in some of the slime and they would have gone back and washed up, and maybe later McGee would have made it up to him.
But Tony didn't laugh. He pressed bodily up against McGee, his head to the side so that he could whisper in McGee's ear.
"Hope you're not too attached to this K-Mart jacket," he mocked, yanking down on one sleeve. There was a satisfying rip of cheap stitching giving way, and Tony was grateful that McGee‘d had to go back to the off-the-peg suits he’d worn pre-Gemcity. The designer ones were much sturdier.
He did the same on the other side, pushing McGee hard into the van to stop him shifting, stop him from allowing the fabric to fall off him rather than split at the seams.
"Tony, what the-" McGee protested but got no further because Tony wrapped both hands around his neck, thumbs brushing his jaw and pulling it downwards. McGee fought a little but eventually capitulated.
Tony could feel cloth-covered hands stroking his biceps and smiled into the kiss as he realized just how much damage he'd done to McGee's suit.
"You wrecked my jacket," he mumbled into McGee's open mouth, and lost all interest in finishing the sentence when McGee's leg shifted between his. McGee's dry pants-leg rubbed against the damp material of his own, a strange combination of cold, sliding pressure against his cock that couldn't help but stir it.
And goddamit McGee knew that. Well, this wasn't his little game to play anymore.
Tony moved a mud-slicked hand down between them, cupping McGee's crotch and extending his fingers until they brushed the fabric right where his balls should be. Tony sucked down hard on McGee's bottom lip as he jumped and pushed into Tony's hand. That had the unexpected side effect of pushing the hand into Tony's groin, the smooth slide further thickening his cock behind the layers of briefs and slacks.
Tony was distracted, too distracted, distracted enough to almost miss McGee's hand leave its place on his arm and begin to undo his pants. Tony grabbed it and slammed it into the wall of metal behind him. As a precaution, he repeated the action with the other hand, holding McGee in place and drinking down every whimper as they thrust against each other.
Tony was almost hard now, and McGee couldn't be much further behind from the feel of it. As he ground into McGee's thigh, he shifted just slightly. Just enough to get that high-pitched noise that McGee would deny he made, if he was even aware he made it at all. The one that Tony could draw out of him sometimes, when it was so good that McGee would probably beg for it if Tony asked him to. On every upwards motion, their cocks rubbed against each other, until Tony pushed harder and further and then every movement was just furious rubbing, lubricated only with the coating of mud now on both their clothes. There was just enough friction to make it interesting, just enough slide to make it good.
Tony could feel himself about to come and couldn't help it. He pushed the hand back between them, the pressure of it sliding into the gap and the feel of McGee's cock thrusting into it too much. He felt McGee's free hand curl into his hair and pull at it slightly, exactly the way he liked it and he could honestly have gotten down and worshipped the floor McGee walked on just then. The hand tugged and stroked and brushed through his hair as his orgasm jolted through him.
He could distantly feel McGee still thrusting against him, and shifted his own hand further downwards, feeling for McGee's balls through his pants. He rolled and played with them as best he could until McGee tensed and shuddered, hips shoving forward in increasingly ragged movements.
The kiss that had only been broken for air and half-gasped curses finally fell apart as McGee's head fell back against the van and Tony's fell forward against McGee's neck. They both stayed for a while catching their breath, the scent of McGee's aftershave mingled with sweat all that Tony could smell anymore. He wanted to taste it, but couldn't even summon the energy for that.
After a while, McGee straightened up, pushing Tony gently away and catching him by the arm. "It's late, we have to get back."
"Yeah." There was a reason they had to get back, Tony was sure of it. Couldn't remember what it was right now, though.
"I'll drive," McGee said, jingling the keys as he pulled them out of his pocket. Tony looked down for the first time and laughed. The now dangling sleeves were hanging over McGee's palms, making him look like a boy wearing his dad's suit.
As if for emphasis, McGee held an arm up and watched as the fabric succumbed to gravity, falling over his fingers. Tony just laughed harder.
"You're going to pay for this, Tony." McGee warned with a grin. Tony stepped up into the passenger seat and glanced over as McGee shucked off the ruined garment.
"I think I've got a Jackson in my pocket that'll cover it."
McGee glared and then rolled his eyes, starting the engine. Tony didn't care, afterglow still firmly in control of his sense of humor. Reality was beginning to seep in though, and one thing struck him.
"If anyone asks," he said "I pulled you down." As excuses went, Tony liked ones that had a root in the truth.
"Tony, everyone else went home half an hour ago."
Tony considered this. "So we have the office to ourselves?"
"Well sure,” McGee replied sarcastically. “So long as you ignore the security cameras, guards, anyone like you who works late from any of the other teams. Should I go on?"
Tony pouted at him "It was just a thought."
McGee shook his head. "You're incorrigable."
"You incorrige me."
"That does not make any sense." McGee looked like he was truly trying to make sense of it, screwed up in contemplation.
"Sure it does, now get the van back, drive me to your place and I will show you exactly what that means." Tony suspected that the last comment would have had more emphasis if he hadn't been yawning. But he was tired, damn it, and he deserved a quick cat-nap.
"Maybe later, Senior agent."
As Tony drifted off to sleep, he vowed one thing.
McGee would learn not to let his mouth make bets his ass couldn’t cover.