Enhanced Interrogation Techniques, NC-17, NCIS
Title: Enhanced Interrogation Techniques
Rating: NC-17
Pairing/character: McGee/DiNozzo
Summary: Top of the list of things to do this morning was work out how to get out of the plastic cuffs that were holding his arms above his head.
Warnings/Spoilers: Risk-Aware Consensual Kink, Tickling, Bondage
A/N: Written for kink_bingo . Prompt is Foot Fetish. Part three of five in the Carte Blanche series. Much thanks to karaokegal for a fabulous beta.
McGee felt strangely refreshed this morning. He’d slept well after a very enjoyable night and now, as he stretched his arms, he wondered what to do today.
"What the-"
And top of the list of things to do this morning was work out how to get out of the plastic cuffs that were holding his arms above his head. Someone, and that could only really be Tony, had looped them through the struts of his bed frame. An experimental roll of his ankles suggested that, beneath the comforter, they were also tied to the frame, albeit with something softer.
“Tony!”
Tony padded through the door, smiling.
“Finally, you’re awake! Thought you were going to sleep for a thousand years the way you were snoring.” McGee noted that Tony was trying to nonchalantly hold something behind his back. He narrowed his eyes.
“Tony, what the hell are you doing?”
“Just having a little fun.”
“Well you’ve had your fun and, per the agreement,” McGee reminded him “it’s still my turn.”
Tony sat on the side of the bed and looked down at McGee. He was really enjoying this, and damn it, there would be repercussions.
"Just because I said you could do anything, doesn't really mean I can't do what I want, too."
“Does that even make sense?” McGee ran it through a few times in his head, while Tony walked purposefully back down the bed.
Tony didn’t wait for McGee to make up his mind, bring the packet he’d been holding in his hand forward. McGee could make out that it was a hand wipe, probably one of the ones that the take-out down the street gave out. Tony must have kept it from last night.
“What are you going to do with that?” McGee asked, suspiciously, which by now he considered to be the default mode when Tony was grinning.
“Cleanliness is next to Godliness,” Tony said, in faux seriousness. “You should know that, scout-lord.”
“I was a Webelos.”
“So you were,” Tony said, almost absently before he bent down at the corner of the bed, flicking the blanket over so that McGee could finally see what was going on. Tony picked up McGee’s foot, holding it as far up as the binding (which appeared to be one of his ties) would allow. Tony opened up the wipe with another hand and McGee braced himself. He couldn’t help flinching but at least he managed to keep from laughing as Tony cleaned his foot with the wipe.
Tony dropped it back on the bed unceremoniously.
“You want to tell me why you had the sudden urge to tie me up and clean my feet?” Because I have a really bad feeling about it.
Tony ignored him and cleaned the other foot. Methodically swabbing it up and down the arch, around the sides, even between the toes.
That bad feeling really wasn’t getting any better.
“Want to ask me what I’m doing again, McGee.” Tony couldn’t have smiled any more without major surgery.
Now McGee was concerned “Not really.”
“Well, McGee, as a Very Special Agent, I am highly trained in making observations. Over the years that we have worked together, I have noted a number of things about you that could leave you vulnerable to outside influences.”
Tony strode up and down the carpet at the base of McGee’s bed, counting off on his fingers.
"Firstly, your video game addiction. Really, get some sunlight.” McGee glared at Tony, who gave no sign of noticing, much less caring.
“Secondly, as a formerly single person, you were vulnerable to enemy agents pretending to be interested in you. I have selflessly removed this potential hazard.”
Okay, did Tony just admit that this was a thing? When did that happen?
McGee realized that Tony hadn’t stopped talking.
“…certain physical weaknesses that could be exploited. And you, McGee, are more ticklish than Elmo. So I thought I'd run you through a scenario and ensure that our secrets really are safe with you.”
“Tony, don't you fucking dare.” Because, while McGee had missed the first part, that last bit had gotten through loud and clear.
Tony turned on his heel in front of the bed, smile all teeth and promises of nothing good to come. “Sounding a little desperate there, McGee. Have I found your Kryptonite?”
Well there was no point in denying it now.
“So, this exercise is designed to teach us, and by us I mean the team, for which I am heroically taking one, if manipulation of this form is an effective means of coercion for you, and how long you can withstand such treatment.”
“Tony, I swear to God, if you-“ And then it was all redundant because the tip of Tony’s tongue was brushing the arch of McGee’s foot and he had to turn his head into his bicep biting his lip and trying to breath through it. His mind raced for a distraction. Multiplication tables. NCIS report codes. Essay titles from MIT. Anything right now, to stop him registering the messages searing their way up his nervous system.
He tried to wrench his foot away, but between Tony’s grip and the tie, he couldn’t get far enough. He could practically taste blood from his lip, and his eyes were screwed so tightly shut that when he eventually opened them the world was blurry for a moment. Tony was standing at the other end of the bed, the hitherto unmolested foot in front of him and McGee tried to turn it sole down into the mattress.
“God, I wish I was recording this, McGee. You should really see yourself right now.”
“Tony, no.” McGee was a little ashamed to hear the shake in his voice “I’m saying no.”
“’No’ is not the safeword.”
“We don’t have a safeword!”
“Sure we do,” Tony said, lifting McGee’s foot and straightening it out. “And I’ll know it when I hear it.”
His tongue ran from heel to toes, dipping into the gap between the big toe and its neighbour. McGee could barely hold back a whimper when Tony wiggled his tongue in the space and was relieved when it was over, sooner this time.
“Mmm, chemically lemon.” Tony stuck his tongue out in disgust.
“I don’t think they expect people to lick their hands after they’ve used them,” McGee said, a sudden burst of adrenaline overruling his desire not to provoke Tony further.
“Nobody likes a smart-ass, McGee.”
“And yet you have so many friends.”
“Oh, really? I’ve got you tied up and you’re back-talking me?”
“Are you going to stop?” McGee asked
“Can’t, McGee, this is for your own good.” Tony’s mock-distressed expression would have been more convincing if his voice hadn’t sounded so pleased with himself.
“Then fuck you, Tony.”
“Nope, don’t see that happening, McVictim.” For emphasis, Tony ran a finger along McGee’s sole. McGee gritted his teeth and sucked in air, determined not to give Tony an inch. Tony upped the ante to three fingers all pitter-pattering down the soft flesh and McGee couldn’t hold back the choked noise any longer.
“Like that?” Tony asked, each finger now stroking individually up and down and couldn’t even turn the laugh that escaped into a cough.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He stopped for a minute and McGee gulped down breath while he had the chance.
“So, fingers are worse than tongue. Duly noted,” Tony said to himself, tapping his lips with his index fingers, as if deep in thought.
“Next step, is obvious of course.” McGee tensed knowing from Tony’s bent over position at the middle of the bed exactly what was coming next.
“Both.”
McGee couldn’t help but thrash even as the laughter was ripped out of him. Tony was less controlled this time, touches less co-ordinated and the small part of McGee’s brain that was still functioning guessed that it was because Tony was having to stretch to almost arm’s length to get both feet at the same time.
But it was so much worse this time, not just for it being both, but the random nature of the touches, how light they were, how he could never tell where they’d come as he tried to move his feet away. Even when he pressed them down, he couldn’t get them flush against the bed and Tony’s fingers slipped under and continued to torture him.
“Stop it!” he yelled out between laughing fits, but Tony was relentless, not halting his attack until what felt like hours later. McGee was breathing hard, head lolling back against the bed frame
Tony climbed onto the bed, kneeling over McGee’s thighs, his weight pinning them down. He pressed down onto McGee, a hand on either side of his bound arms. Tony’s face was just far enough away that McGee could see the dark look in his eyes, but close enough that McGee could bite down on the bottom lip of that demonic smile if he wanted. He had to think a moment about why that wouldn’t be a good idea.
“You gonna beg for me, McGee?” Tony asked, softly but with his enjoyment of the power he had radiating through every word.
“No,” McGee said, forcefully.
“Sure?” Tony asked, leaning in to lick the curve of his ear as every inch of McGee flashed hot with expectation.
Fuck he loved it when Tony was like this.
“First things first.” Tony straightened up, reaching behind him and pulled both ties loose with a flourish.
“What the hell was that?” McGee asked, slightly stunned by the sudden movement.
“Quick release knot.” Right, of course; that would be Tony’s flair for the dramatic rearing its head. McGee shifted his legs experimentally. Sure, now he could move his ankles more, and even his calves a little. But thanks to Tony’s position, everything above the knee was locked in place.
“You gonna tell me you were secretly a Sea Cadet when you were young?”
“Nope. Rode a lot of horses, though.”
McGee waited for the obligatory sexual reference. Nothing.
“Too predictable,” Tony smirked and McGee rolled his eyes before remembering a little too late what had lead them here.
“Not done yet, Probie.”
And then there was just the white hot feeling of Tony’s fingers kneading the sensitive skin around his ribs while McGee tried his damndest to buck him off. No matter how he shifted, tried to turn, even tried to pull himself up with the cuffs, Tony stayed put. McGee began to wonder if some of those horses weren’t mechanical and based in dive bars.
He tried to curl a leg around to kick Tony but couldn’t reach, and goddamit Tony must have planned this. Desperation kicked in because there was a side effect to Tony’s treatment that he’d been able to ignore until now. Now it was becoming a lot more obvious.
“Don’t worry, McGee,” Tony reassured him. “Even without little Tim stirring, I’d still know exactly what this is doing.”
“Tony, you’re a son of a bitch.”
An observant, devoted and determined son of a bitch because when Tony leant over to whisper filthy plans into McGee’s ear, he made sure to rub the short curls of his stomach hair across the tip of McGee’s gradually awakening cock. Between that, the fingers that were now stroking at his oversensitized nipples and the dark promises that Tony was making, McGee was about ready to give in.
Until he felt a the cool air of the apartment against his thigh and realized that Tony, bent over as he was, had left himself vulnerable. McGee counted to three and threw himself sideways. His shoulder wrenched as the cuffs held him steady but the result was worth it. Tony was sprawled on the floor looking like he’d just been clocked by Cindy-Lou Who.
Part one complete, McGee focused on part two of the plan - getting up and making Tony pay in any number of inventive ways for the past half an hour. The plan had one, fairly basic problem.
There was absolutely no way McGee could think of to get out of the cuffs.
They’d either need to be cut, have a release designed to be impossible to press from in them, or even have a damned key. McGee was stuck.
It looked like Tony had worked that out too, as he loomed over the bed, eyebrows raised as McGee struggled.
“If that was designed to persuade me to pick up the lube, then it worked.” Tony waved the bottle at McGee before putting it down on the bed beside him “If it was in any way designed for you to get the upper hand, then you failed. Badly.”
Tony deftly caught McGee’s legs, one in each hand, holding them up by the ankles so that McGee’s weight was shifted to his shoulders. He winced at a twinge of pain as the earlier strained joint protested. It distracted him for long enough that Tony was able to knee the bundled up comforter beneath McGee’s backside, propping him up in that position.
McGee began to writhe again, refusing to go quietly even as Tony released one leg, pinning it down between his body and the comforter. The other he still held high.
“Two ways this can go, Probie,” Tony explained. “First, you beg me to fuck you and I fuck you so hard your big MIT brain starts leaking out of your ears.”
“No.” Because that’s not how this goes. I don’t just give in.
“Door number two it is.”
Feather-light fingers barely touched McGee’s balls as he worked out why Tony was holding him in such a strange position. If he’d thought before had been bad, this was worse. His cock couldn’t be harder but it was still straining for any form of contact. He could barely move, but every time he did the fingers just stroked shorter and faster. This he truly couldn’t bear and as he looked up at Tony through watery eyes, he could make out that expression.
The one that said he knew.
“I’m not going to ask you again, Special Agent McGee.”
“Fuck, Tony.” McGee could barely breathe, let alone talk.
“Say it.”
“Tony!” That had to be enough. He couldn’t, he just couldn’t.
“Say it,” Tony commanded
Pride be damned, he needed this.
“Tony, please, I’m begging you, just fuck me, please!”
Tony’s hands moved in a blur, dropping McGee’s leg and shoving two freshly lubed fingers inside him before he knew what was happening. The preparation was quick, not quite stretching him enough but right now he didn’t care; he couldn’t care anymore. Not about the burn as Tony pushed in; not about how hard Tony fucked him and how desperate it felt; not even that this position was crushing his upper back and shoulders. Just didn’t care because every single thrust was hitting him right where he needed it and he could almost come from that alone.
Almost, but not quite. He couldn’t even form words when Tony finally brought his lube-slicked hand to rest on McGee’s throbbing cock, just noises that escaped with every exhale. Tony didn’t even move, just curled his fingers so that McGee could fuck them. A few strokes and McGee came brutally, as though every part of his body was being engulfed by a burning pleasure, tensing every muscle, and at that point he could hear Tony climaxing, pace quickening as he drained himself inside McGee.
Tony held still for a moment, breathing deep as though breaking the surface after a long dive. McGee let his head fall back. He heard Tony slump down beside him, and felt the comforter kicked out from beneath him, allowing him to settle back down onto the bed.
“Was it everything you'd hoped for, honey-bunch?” Given that right now McGee even found Lady Gaga references amusing, he suspected that Tony may have actually broken his brain.
“Fuck yes,” he replied, but he couldn’t leave it there because this was Tony, a man whose ego got its own baggage allowance. “Even if you did wake me up when you moved my arms.”
“Did not,” Tony shot back.
“Sorry, Tony, you're not as stealthy as you think.”
“Well forgive me if I'm not perfect when I've gotten up early and not even had any coffee yet,” Tony snarked. “Or breakfast,” he added.
“Oh, I'm sorry, was that a hint? Here, let me go get you some." McGee rattled the plastic tie around his wrists against the bed post.
“Fine, McWhinestein,” Tony shifted onto his side. “I'll cut you loose. On one condition.”
“If you wanted to put in conditions, you probably should have done it earlier.”
Tony ignored the comment. "I take off the cuffs, you go get coffee and bagels from the deli down the street."
"Okay."
Suspicion clouded Tony’s face as he depressed the release catches. "Okay? No bitching or arguing?"
"Would you prefer that?" McGee sat up and rolled his strained shoulder, massaging the ache away.
"Not at all,” said Tony, suspicion turning to surprise “I'm just thinking that I should do this more often."
McGee shook his head, smiling. Not even Tony could ruin how good he was feeling now. I mean, it's not often someone goes out of their way to let you wake up slap bang in the middle of what you had previously thought was a very secret fantasy.
Which reminded him of something.
"Where did you get the plastic cuffs?"
"Taking a leaf out of your book, Probie. Always prepared."
McGee was both unconvinced and unimpressed.
"There are benefits to being a federal agent, McGee."
"You got these from work? How long have you been planning this?"
"Since Friday afternoon. Turns out I do know how perverse you can be."
McGee nodded and came to a decision. He’d ruled out something for tonight, thinking it might cross the line. Since Tony had decided to drive off at speed over that line, it was definitely back on.
Now he just had to find his blade sharpener.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing/character: McGee/DiNozzo
Summary: Top of the list of things to do this morning was work out how to get out of the plastic cuffs that were holding his arms above his head.
Warnings/Spoilers: Risk-Aware Consensual Kink, Tickling, Bondage
A/N: Written for kink_bingo . Prompt is Foot Fetish. Part three of five in the Carte Blanche series. Much thanks to karaokegal for a fabulous beta.
McGee felt strangely refreshed this morning. He’d slept well after a very enjoyable night and now, as he stretched his arms, he wondered what to do today.
"What the-"
And top of the list of things to do this morning was work out how to get out of the plastic cuffs that were holding his arms above his head. Someone, and that could only really be Tony, had looped them through the struts of his bed frame. An experimental roll of his ankles suggested that, beneath the comforter, they were also tied to the frame, albeit with something softer.
“Tony!”
Tony padded through the door, smiling.
“Finally, you’re awake! Thought you were going to sleep for a thousand years the way you were snoring.” McGee noted that Tony was trying to nonchalantly hold something behind his back. He narrowed his eyes.
“Tony, what the hell are you doing?”
“Just having a little fun.”
“Well you’ve had your fun and, per the agreement,” McGee reminded him “it’s still my turn.”
Tony sat on the side of the bed and looked down at McGee. He was really enjoying this, and damn it, there would be repercussions.
"Just because I said you could do anything, doesn't really mean I can't do what I want, too."
“Does that even make sense?” McGee ran it through a few times in his head, while Tony walked purposefully back down the bed.
Tony didn’t wait for McGee to make up his mind, bring the packet he’d been holding in his hand forward. McGee could make out that it was a hand wipe, probably one of the ones that the take-out down the street gave out. Tony must have kept it from last night.
“What are you going to do with that?” McGee asked, suspiciously, which by now he considered to be the default mode when Tony was grinning.
“Cleanliness is next to Godliness,” Tony said, in faux seriousness. “You should know that, scout-lord.”
“I was a Webelos.”
“So you were,” Tony said, almost absently before he bent down at the corner of the bed, flicking the blanket over so that McGee could finally see what was going on. Tony picked up McGee’s foot, holding it as far up as the binding (which appeared to be one of his ties) would allow. Tony opened up the wipe with another hand and McGee braced himself. He couldn’t help flinching but at least he managed to keep from laughing as Tony cleaned his foot with the wipe.
Tony dropped it back on the bed unceremoniously.
“You want to tell me why you had the sudden urge to tie me up and clean my feet?” Because I have a really bad feeling about it.
Tony ignored him and cleaned the other foot. Methodically swabbing it up and down the arch, around the sides, even between the toes.
That bad feeling really wasn’t getting any better.
“Want to ask me what I’m doing again, McGee.” Tony couldn’t have smiled any more without major surgery.
Now McGee was concerned “Not really.”
“Well, McGee, as a Very Special Agent, I am highly trained in making observations. Over the years that we have worked together, I have noted a number of things about you that could leave you vulnerable to outside influences.”
Tony strode up and down the carpet at the base of McGee’s bed, counting off on his fingers.
"Firstly, your video game addiction. Really, get some sunlight.” McGee glared at Tony, who gave no sign of noticing, much less caring.
“Secondly, as a formerly single person, you were vulnerable to enemy agents pretending to be interested in you. I have selflessly removed this potential hazard.”
Okay, did Tony just admit that this was a thing? When did that happen?
McGee realized that Tony hadn’t stopped talking.
“…certain physical weaknesses that could be exploited. And you, McGee, are more ticklish than Elmo. So I thought I'd run you through a scenario and ensure that our secrets really are safe with you.”
“Tony, don't you fucking dare.” Because, while McGee had missed the first part, that last bit had gotten through loud and clear.
Tony turned on his heel in front of the bed, smile all teeth and promises of nothing good to come. “Sounding a little desperate there, McGee. Have I found your Kryptonite?”
Well there was no point in denying it now.
“So, this exercise is designed to teach us, and by us I mean the team, for which I am heroically taking one, if manipulation of this form is an effective means of coercion for you, and how long you can withstand such treatment.”
“Tony, I swear to God, if you-“ And then it was all redundant because the tip of Tony’s tongue was brushing the arch of McGee’s foot and he had to turn his head into his bicep biting his lip and trying to breath through it. His mind raced for a distraction. Multiplication tables. NCIS report codes. Essay titles from MIT. Anything right now, to stop him registering the messages searing their way up his nervous system.
He tried to wrench his foot away, but between Tony’s grip and the tie, he couldn’t get far enough. He could practically taste blood from his lip, and his eyes were screwed so tightly shut that when he eventually opened them the world was blurry for a moment. Tony was standing at the other end of the bed, the hitherto unmolested foot in front of him and McGee tried to turn it sole down into the mattress.
“God, I wish I was recording this, McGee. You should really see yourself right now.”
“Tony, no.” McGee was a little ashamed to hear the shake in his voice “I’m saying no.”
“’No’ is not the safeword.”
“We don’t have a safeword!”
“Sure we do,” Tony said, lifting McGee’s foot and straightening it out. “And I’ll know it when I hear it.”
His tongue ran from heel to toes, dipping into the gap between the big toe and its neighbour. McGee could barely hold back a whimper when Tony wiggled his tongue in the space and was relieved when it was over, sooner this time.
“Mmm, chemically lemon.” Tony stuck his tongue out in disgust.
“I don’t think they expect people to lick their hands after they’ve used them,” McGee said, a sudden burst of adrenaline overruling his desire not to provoke Tony further.
“Nobody likes a smart-ass, McGee.”
“And yet you have so many friends.”
“Oh, really? I’ve got you tied up and you’re back-talking me?”
“Are you going to stop?” McGee asked
“Can’t, McGee, this is for your own good.” Tony’s mock-distressed expression would have been more convincing if his voice hadn’t sounded so pleased with himself.
“Then fuck you, Tony.”
“Nope, don’t see that happening, McVictim.” For emphasis, Tony ran a finger along McGee’s sole. McGee gritted his teeth and sucked in air, determined not to give Tony an inch. Tony upped the ante to three fingers all pitter-pattering down the soft flesh and McGee couldn’t hold back the choked noise any longer.
“Like that?” Tony asked, each finger now stroking individually up and down and couldn’t even turn the laugh that escaped into a cough.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He stopped for a minute and McGee gulped down breath while he had the chance.
“So, fingers are worse than tongue. Duly noted,” Tony said to himself, tapping his lips with his index fingers, as if deep in thought.
“Next step, is obvious of course.” McGee tensed knowing from Tony’s bent over position at the middle of the bed exactly what was coming next.
“Both.”
McGee couldn’t help but thrash even as the laughter was ripped out of him. Tony was less controlled this time, touches less co-ordinated and the small part of McGee’s brain that was still functioning guessed that it was because Tony was having to stretch to almost arm’s length to get both feet at the same time.
But it was so much worse this time, not just for it being both, but the random nature of the touches, how light they were, how he could never tell where they’d come as he tried to move his feet away. Even when he pressed them down, he couldn’t get them flush against the bed and Tony’s fingers slipped under and continued to torture him.
“Stop it!” he yelled out between laughing fits, but Tony was relentless, not halting his attack until what felt like hours later. McGee was breathing hard, head lolling back against the bed frame
Tony climbed onto the bed, kneeling over McGee’s thighs, his weight pinning them down. He pressed down onto McGee, a hand on either side of his bound arms. Tony’s face was just far enough away that McGee could see the dark look in his eyes, but close enough that McGee could bite down on the bottom lip of that demonic smile if he wanted. He had to think a moment about why that wouldn’t be a good idea.
“You gonna beg for me, McGee?” Tony asked, softly but with his enjoyment of the power he had radiating through every word.
“No,” McGee said, forcefully.
“Sure?” Tony asked, leaning in to lick the curve of his ear as every inch of McGee flashed hot with expectation.
Fuck he loved it when Tony was like this.
“First things first.” Tony straightened up, reaching behind him and pulled both ties loose with a flourish.
“What the hell was that?” McGee asked, slightly stunned by the sudden movement.
“Quick release knot.” Right, of course; that would be Tony’s flair for the dramatic rearing its head. McGee shifted his legs experimentally. Sure, now he could move his ankles more, and even his calves a little. But thanks to Tony’s position, everything above the knee was locked in place.
“You gonna tell me you were secretly a Sea Cadet when you were young?”
“Nope. Rode a lot of horses, though.”
McGee waited for the obligatory sexual reference. Nothing.
“Too predictable,” Tony smirked and McGee rolled his eyes before remembering a little too late what had lead them here.
“Not done yet, Probie.”
And then there was just the white hot feeling of Tony’s fingers kneading the sensitive skin around his ribs while McGee tried his damndest to buck him off. No matter how he shifted, tried to turn, even tried to pull himself up with the cuffs, Tony stayed put. McGee began to wonder if some of those horses weren’t mechanical and based in dive bars.
He tried to curl a leg around to kick Tony but couldn’t reach, and goddamit Tony must have planned this. Desperation kicked in because there was a side effect to Tony’s treatment that he’d been able to ignore until now. Now it was becoming a lot more obvious.
“Don’t worry, McGee,” Tony reassured him. “Even without little Tim stirring, I’d still know exactly what this is doing.”
“Tony, you’re a son of a bitch.”
An observant, devoted and determined son of a bitch because when Tony leant over to whisper filthy plans into McGee’s ear, he made sure to rub the short curls of his stomach hair across the tip of McGee’s gradually awakening cock. Between that, the fingers that were now stroking at his oversensitized nipples and the dark promises that Tony was making, McGee was about ready to give in.
Until he felt a the cool air of the apartment against his thigh and realized that Tony, bent over as he was, had left himself vulnerable. McGee counted to three and threw himself sideways. His shoulder wrenched as the cuffs held him steady but the result was worth it. Tony was sprawled on the floor looking like he’d just been clocked by Cindy-Lou Who.
Part one complete, McGee focused on part two of the plan - getting up and making Tony pay in any number of inventive ways for the past half an hour. The plan had one, fairly basic problem.
There was absolutely no way McGee could think of to get out of the cuffs.
They’d either need to be cut, have a release designed to be impossible to press from in them, or even have a damned key. McGee was stuck.
It looked like Tony had worked that out too, as he loomed over the bed, eyebrows raised as McGee struggled.
“If that was designed to persuade me to pick up the lube, then it worked.” Tony waved the bottle at McGee before putting it down on the bed beside him “If it was in any way designed for you to get the upper hand, then you failed. Badly.”
Tony deftly caught McGee’s legs, one in each hand, holding them up by the ankles so that McGee’s weight was shifted to his shoulders. He winced at a twinge of pain as the earlier strained joint protested. It distracted him for long enough that Tony was able to knee the bundled up comforter beneath McGee’s backside, propping him up in that position.
McGee began to writhe again, refusing to go quietly even as Tony released one leg, pinning it down between his body and the comforter. The other he still held high.
“Two ways this can go, Probie,” Tony explained. “First, you beg me to fuck you and I fuck you so hard your big MIT brain starts leaking out of your ears.”
“No.” Because that’s not how this goes. I don’t just give in.
“Door number two it is.”
Feather-light fingers barely touched McGee’s balls as he worked out why Tony was holding him in such a strange position. If he’d thought before had been bad, this was worse. His cock couldn’t be harder but it was still straining for any form of contact. He could barely move, but every time he did the fingers just stroked shorter and faster. This he truly couldn’t bear and as he looked up at Tony through watery eyes, he could make out that expression.
The one that said he knew.
“I’m not going to ask you again, Special Agent McGee.”
“Fuck, Tony.” McGee could barely breathe, let alone talk.
“Say it.”
“Tony!” That had to be enough. He couldn’t, he just couldn’t.
“Say it,” Tony commanded
Pride be damned, he needed this.
“Tony, please, I’m begging you, just fuck me, please!”
Tony’s hands moved in a blur, dropping McGee’s leg and shoving two freshly lubed fingers inside him before he knew what was happening. The preparation was quick, not quite stretching him enough but right now he didn’t care; he couldn’t care anymore. Not about the burn as Tony pushed in; not about how hard Tony fucked him and how desperate it felt; not even that this position was crushing his upper back and shoulders. Just didn’t care because every single thrust was hitting him right where he needed it and he could almost come from that alone.
Almost, but not quite. He couldn’t even form words when Tony finally brought his lube-slicked hand to rest on McGee’s throbbing cock, just noises that escaped with every exhale. Tony didn’t even move, just curled his fingers so that McGee could fuck them. A few strokes and McGee came brutally, as though every part of his body was being engulfed by a burning pleasure, tensing every muscle, and at that point he could hear Tony climaxing, pace quickening as he drained himself inside McGee.
Tony held still for a moment, breathing deep as though breaking the surface after a long dive. McGee let his head fall back. He heard Tony slump down beside him, and felt the comforter kicked out from beneath him, allowing him to settle back down onto the bed.
“Was it everything you'd hoped for, honey-bunch?” Given that right now McGee even found Lady Gaga references amusing, he suspected that Tony may have actually broken his brain.
“Fuck yes,” he replied, but he couldn’t leave it there because this was Tony, a man whose ego got its own baggage allowance. “Even if you did wake me up when you moved my arms.”
“Did not,” Tony shot back.
“Sorry, Tony, you're not as stealthy as you think.”
“Well forgive me if I'm not perfect when I've gotten up early and not even had any coffee yet,” Tony snarked. “Or breakfast,” he added.
“Oh, I'm sorry, was that a hint? Here, let me go get you some." McGee rattled the plastic tie around his wrists against the bed post.
“Fine, McWhinestein,” Tony shifted onto his side. “I'll cut you loose. On one condition.”
“If you wanted to put in conditions, you probably should have done it earlier.”
Tony ignored the comment. "I take off the cuffs, you go get coffee and bagels from the deli down the street."
"Okay."
Suspicion clouded Tony’s face as he depressed the release catches. "Okay? No bitching or arguing?"
"Would you prefer that?" McGee sat up and rolled his strained shoulder, massaging the ache away.
"Not at all,” said Tony, suspicion turning to surprise “I'm just thinking that I should do this more often."
McGee shook his head, smiling. Not even Tony could ruin how good he was feeling now. I mean, it's not often someone goes out of their way to let you wake up slap bang in the middle of what you had previously thought was a very secret fantasy.
Which reminded him of something.
"Where did you get the plastic cuffs?"
"Taking a leaf out of your book, Probie. Always prepared."
McGee was both unconvinced and unimpressed.
"There are benefits to being a federal agent, McGee."
"You got these from work? How long have you been planning this?"
"Since Friday afternoon. Turns out I do know how perverse you can be."
McGee nodded and came to a decision. He’d ruled out something for tonight, thinking it might cross the line. Since Tony had decided to drive off at speed over that line, it was definitely back on.
Now he just had to find his blade sharpener.