Fic: Strictly Business, derRumtreiber, NC-17
Title: Strictly Business
Rating: NC-17
Genre: romance, PWP
Word Count: 1500
Summary: Kink Bingo Challenge: Mirrors. Gibbs, McGee, and a hotel elevator.
Warning(s): Nada if you take into account it's a PWP
Spoiler(s): Supposedly takes place during Legends, but nothing work related so no spoilers.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to DPB, CBS, Paramount, et al. No copyright infringement is intended.
When McGee opens the door to the room he is supposed to share with Gibbs in LA, he’s not quite sure how to react. On the one hand, the hotel is pretty booked and gave them what they had available (or so they said), and McGee’s not exactly against sharing a bed with his boss. They’ve done it before, just not all night, so to speak. But on the other hand, if anyone from the LA branch decides to check in on them, or, God forbid, Tony decides he wanted to follow, or something else ridiculous, it’s going to look mighty suspicious. Especially if there is barging in involved and they’re actually in the bed at the time.
But Gibbs pushes past him, takes a look around and throws his duffle on said single, king sized bed and huffs a “Let’s go, McGee,” before he walks right back out the door.
That’s good enough for McGee and he throws his stuff down as well, shouldering his back pack, boating mag still tucked neatly into the back of his pants and follows Gibbs towards the elevator. He manages to sneak in just as the doors are closing, shuffling in to stand stock still next to Gibbs, arms crossed in front of his body, Gibbs just standing there looking off into space as if he hasn’t got a care in the world. It’s all very reminiscent of home, and if there weren’t mirrors on all the walls and shoddy red carpet below their feet, McGee could almost imagine that they were in NCIS itself.
He notes Gibbs actually taking a look around, and wonders if he’s thinking the same thing for all of ten seconds before Gibbs speaks. “You ever wonder why hotel elevators have so many damn mirrors?” he asks, and McGee can only gape, because of everything that Gibbs has said thus far to him on the trip - well, actually, he’s gaping because it’s the first thing Gibbs has said to him on the trip.
“Uh,” McGee starts, confused, but Gibbs chuckles softly and McGee realizes that was just his boss’ way of breaking the tension that’s been so thick for the past however many hours.
“Maybe so you can see if some stranger’s trying to lift your wallet, Boss?” McGee suggests.
“Maybe because people are just really kinky,” Gibbs replies, and his expression doesn’t change in the slightest, like his suggestion is just as innocent as McGee’s, even though Gibbs never, ever talks about sex outside the bedroom. Or inside the bedroom. Just… never.
McGee must look like a drowning fish because Gibbs rolls his eyes as the elevator dings and they’re at the bottom floor. He steps out and McGee follows, close on his heels, and Gibbs literally doesn’t say another word to him that day that isn’t a barked order. It doesn’t bother McGee. It’s actually a lot more comforting than a Gibbs contemplating things like people having sex on the elevator, because that one makes McGee wonder just whether or not his Boss has ever thought about doing stuff on the elevator at NCIS. Or worse, it makes him think that it’s Gibbs’ subtle way of saying he really can read minds, and knows what McGee’s thinking every time they’re alone in an enclosed space, possibly surrounded by video cameras.
As it turns out the whole mission is pretty stressful, and what time they get to spend in the hotel room is so limited that it pretty much just entails sleeping for a couple hours, which is almost a waste of a hotel room altogether. They probably would have done just fine getting the same amount of shut eye at the office at a couple of spare desks.
It’s still kind of nice, though, going to sleep and waking up with Gibbs. The man’s not much of a cuddler, but he does sprawl, and even in a king size bed that means almost constant contact throughout the night. It’s something McGee thinks he could get used to, if he were given the opportunity, though he doesn’t think he’ll ever let that one past the confines of his own mind.
The point is, Gibbs pays very little non-work related attention to him during the entire trip, and McGee is actually looking forward to getting back to Tony and Ziva, who, while endlessly nerve trying, at least give him the time of day. This whole relationship thing with Gibbs is new enough that McGee isn’t going to push for anything more than the man is willing to give, and if all he’s willing to give when they’re alone together on a mission is orders, then so be it. McGee can live with that. Honest.
So on their final trip down to the lobby of the hotel, after everything is said and done and nerves are so frayed that McGee thinks he’s going to get stopped at airport security for tweaking and Gibbs might actually, physically spontaneously combust, when Gibbs reaches up and unplugs the crappy camera in the corner of the elevator and hits the dreaded emergency stop button, McGee is sure he’s done for. He can’t remember doing anything actually wrong that he hasn’t already paid penance for, and there has been ample opportunity for Gibbs to bring performance issues up prior to now, but the man is overly fond of conferences in very small spaces, so maybe he was just saving it.
Or maybe not, McGee thinks as Gibbs takes the duffle out of his hand and drops it on the floor next to Gibbs’ own, steps in close and presses his lips frantically to McGee’s, reaches a hand out to start unbuttoning McGee’s shirt. Gibbs leans his head down to suck a bright red patch on McGee’s neck, right above where his collar would reasonably cover.
“Turn around, Tim,” Gibbs growls in his ear, and McGee finds himself more being spun around than doing it of his own free will, but he supposes it’s all the same, really, and who cares how it happens because Gibbs is touching him, Gibbs is touching him, just like he’s been wanting since they got that stupid hotel room and oh yes, please, yes.
McGee squeaks in response and Gibbs ignores it completely, pulling McGee back so he’s leaning into Gibbs who’s leaning against the metal doors, and they’re facing those ridiculous hotel elevator mirrors. They’re starting to seem far less ridiculous, and McGee barely has time to wonder if Gibbs has been thinking about this since the sparse conversation they shared two days ago before Gibbs has his pants unzipped and shoved down mid-thigh along with his boxers.
“Watch yourself, McGee,” Gibbs commands, voice a low rumble next to McGee’s ear, and all he can do is nod and swallow hard, try and keep his eyes open as Gibbs takes hold of him with a firm, warm grip.
It’s fast and dirty and, despite the circumstance, incredibly gentle. Gibbs is mumbling nonsense words of encouragement the whole time, his eyes trained on McGee’s in the mirror, face tilted down and half buried in McGee’s neck. He’s the only thing holding McGee up as he strokes, runs his thumb over the head of McGee’s cock, nips and sucks just below his ear.
“That’s right, McGee,” Gibbs whispers as McGee groans, losing himself in the whole crazy situation, losing himself in his boss’ stare in the mirror in front of them. “That’s right. Too damn pretty.”
McGee’s breath starts to come in little huffs and Gibbs picks up his pace, tightens his grip, catches McGee’s mouth in an awkward kiss that sends him over the edge. Hips jerk forward and he’s coming all over Gibbs’ hand, whimpering into his mouth as Gibbs grinds forward and against his ass.
When he finally lets McGee turn back around and pull up his pants McGee reaches out and towards Gibbs’ belt, but Gibbs just shakes his head. “Not now,” he says. “Camera’s been off too long.”
McGee must look disappointed because Gibbs gives him a soft smile and rolls his eyes as he hits the button to start the elevator back up and pulls a dirty t-shirt from his bag to clean up with. “Later, McGee. I promise.”
“Kay, Boss,” McGee responds, and he’s too sated to really argue; feels better than he has all week.
“McGee,” Gibbs says as the elevator dings and they step off, the kid at the front desk giving them an ill hid look of suspicion.
McGee knows the kid won’t say anything. He’s already had to deal first hand with an irate Gibbs thanks to a credit card mishap and a poorly timed and unwarranted 3 A.M. wake up call and no one is stupid enough to get on Gibbs bad side twice in that short a period of time, with the possible exception of Tony.
“Yeah, Boss?” McGee says as they walk toward the counter.
“You ever get the chance to join the mile high club?”
Rating: NC-17
Genre: romance, PWP
Word Count: 1500
Summary: Kink Bingo Challenge: Mirrors. Gibbs, McGee, and a hotel elevator.
Warning(s): Nada if you take into account it's a PWP
Spoiler(s): Supposedly takes place during Legends, but nothing work related so no spoilers.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to DPB, CBS, Paramount, et al. No copyright infringement is intended.
When McGee opens the door to the room he is supposed to share with Gibbs in LA, he’s not quite sure how to react. On the one hand, the hotel is pretty booked and gave them what they had available (or so they said), and McGee’s not exactly against sharing a bed with his boss. They’ve done it before, just not all night, so to speak. But on the other hand, if anyone from the LA branch decides to check in on them, or, God forbid, Tony decides he wanted to follow, or something else ridiculous, it’s going to look mighty suspicious. Especially if there is barging in involved and they’re actually in the bed at the time.
But Gibbs pushes past him, takes a look around and throws his duffle on said single, king sized bed and huffs a “Let’s go, McGee,” before he walks right back out the door.
That’s good enough for McGee and he throws his stuff down as well, shouldering his back pack, boating mag still tucked neatly into the back of his pants and follows Gibbs towards the elevator. He manages to sneak in just as the doors are closing, shuffling in to stand stock still next to Gibbs, arms crossed in front of his body, Gibbs just standing there looking off into space as if he hasn’t got a care in the world. It’s all very reminiscent of home, and if there weren’t mirrors on all the walls and shoddy red carpet below their feet, McGee could almost imagine that they were in NCIS itself.
He notes Gibbs actually taking a look around, and wonders if he’s thinking the same thing for all of ten seconds before Gibbs speaks. “You ever wonder why hotel elevators have so many damn mirrors?” he asks, and McGee can only gape, because of everything that Gibbs has said thus far to him on the trip - well, actually, he’s gaping because it’s the first thing Gibbs has said to him on the trip.
“Uh,” McGee starts, confused, but Gibbs chuckles softly and McGee realizes that was just his boss’ way of breaking the tension that’s been so thick for the past however many hours.
“Maybe so you can see if some stranger’s trying to lift your wallet, Boss?” McGee suggests.
“Maybe because people are just really kinky,” Gibbs replies, and his expression doesn’t change in the slightest, like his suggestion is just as innocent as McGee’s, even though Gibbs never, ever talks about sex outside the bedroom. Or inside the bedroom. Just… never.
McGee must look like a drowning fish because Gibbs rolls his eyes as the elevator dings and they’re at the bottom floor. He steps out and McGee follows, close on his heels, and Gibbs literally doesn’t say another word to him that day that isn’t a barked order. It doesn’t bother McGee. It’s actually a lot more comforting than a Gibbs contemplating things like people having sex on the elevator, because that one makes McGee wonder just whether or not his Boss has ever thought about doing stuff on the elevator at NCIS. Or worse, it makes him think that it’s Gibbs’ subtle way of saying he really can read minds, and knows what McGee’s thinking every time they’re alone in an enclosed space, possibly surrounded by video cameras.
As it turns out the whole mission is pretty stressful, and what time they get to spend in the hotel room is so limited that it pretty much just entails sleeping for a couple hours, which is almost a waste of a hotel room altogether. They probably would have done just fine getting the same amount of shut eye at the office at a couple of spare desks.
It’s still kind of nice, though, going to sleep and waking up with Gibbs. The man’s not much of a cuddler, but he does sprawl, and even in a king size bed that means almost constant contact throughout the night. It’s something McGee thinks he could get used to, if he were given the opportunity, though he doesn’t think he’ll ever let that one past the confines of his own mind.
The point is, Gibbs pays very little non-work related attention to him during the entire trip, and McGee is actually looking forward to getting back to Tony and Ziva, who, while endlessly nerve trying, at least give him the time of day. This whole relationship thing with Gibbs is new enough that McGee isn’t going to push for anything more than the man is willing to give, and if all he’s willing to give when they’re alone together on a mission is orders, then so be it. McGee can live with that. Honest.
So on their final trip down to the lobby of the hotel, after everything is said and done and nerves are so frayed that McGee thinks he’s going to get stopped at airport security for tweaking and Gibbs might actually, physically spontaneously combust, when Gibbs reaches up and unplugs the crappy camera in the corner of the elevator and hits the dreaded emergency stop button, McGee is sure he’s done for. He can’t remember doing anything actually wrong that he hasn’t already paid penance for, and there has been ample opportunity for Gibbs to bring performance issues up prior to now, but the man is overly fond of conferences in very small spaces, so maybe he was just saving it.
Or maybe not, McGee thinks as Gibbs takes the duffle out of his hand and drops it on the floor next to Gibbs’ own, steps in close and presses his lips frantically to McGee’s, reaches a hand out to start unbuttoning McGee’s shirt. Gibbs leans his head down to suck a bright red patch on McGee’s neck, right above where his collar would reasonably cover.
“Turn around, Tim,” Gibbs growls in his ear, and McGee finds himself more being spun around than doing it of his own free will, but he supposes it’s all the same, really, and who cares how it happens because Gibbs is touching him, Gibbs is touching him, just like he’s been wanting since they got that stupid hotel room and oh yes, please, yes.
McGee squeaks in response and Gibbs ignores it completely, pulling McGee back so he’s leaning into Gibbs who’s leaning against the metal doors, and they’re facing those ridiculous hotel elevator mirrors. They’re starting to seem far less ridiculous, and McGee barely has time to wonder if Gibbs has been thinking about this since the sparse conversation they shared two days ago before Gibbs has his pants unzipped and shoved down mid-thigh along with his boxers.
“Watch yourself, McGee,” Gibbs commands, voice a low rumble next to McGee’s ear, and all he can do is nod and swallow hard, try and keep his eyes open as Gibbs takes hold of him with a firm, warm grip.
It’s fast and dirty and, despite the circumstance, incredibly gentle. Gibbs is mumbling nonsense words of encouragement the whole time, his eyes trained on McGee’s in the mirror, face tilted down and half buried in McGee’s neck. He’s the only thing holding McGee up as he strokes, runs his thumb over the head of McGee’s cock, nips and sucks just below his ear.
“That’s right, McGee,” Gibbs whispers as McGee groans, losing himself in the whole crazy situation, losing himself in his boss’ stare in the mirror in front of them. “That’s right. Too damn pretty.”
McGee’s breath starts to come in little huffs and Gibbs picks up his pace, tightens his grip, catches McGee’s mouth in an awkward kiss that sends him over the edge. Hips jerk forward and he’s coming all over Gibbs’ hand, whimpering into his mouth as Gibbs grinds forward and against his ass.
When he finally lets McGee turn back around and pull up his pants McGee reaches out and towards Gibbs’ belt, but Gibbs just shakes his head. “Not now,” he says. “Camera’s been off too long.”
McGee must look disappointed because Gibbs gives him a soft smile and rolls his eyes as he hits the button to start the elevator back up and pulls a dirty t-shirt from his bag to clean up with. “Later, McGee. I promise.”
“Kay, Boss,” McGee responds, and he’s too sated to really argue; feels better than he has all week.
“McGee,” Gibbs says as the elevator dings and they step off, the kid at the front desk giving them an ill hid look of suspicion.
McGee knows the kid won’t say anything. He’s already had to deal first hand with an irate Gibbs thanks to a credit card mishap and a poorly timed and unwarranted 3 A.M. wake up call and no one is stupid enough to get on Gibbs bad side twice in that short a period of time, with the possible exception of Tony.
“Yeah, Boss?” McGee says as they walk toward the counter.
“You ever get the chance to join the mile high club?”