WIPS on Toast
I'm in a serious NCIS mood right now, an especially porny, one-shot mood. So, I'm sitting here looking through my WIPS, some of which are nothing more than opening paragraphs, kinda setting a tone but things that went no where.
I also noticed that I have a serious thing about baseball imagery.
Not that I'm complaining, mind you. (You *have* seen MLB uniforms, right? Exactly.)
So, tell me what you think. (I blame webgirl.) Most of these I have no clue where they're going from here which is why they're still WIPs. I have some other one-shot WIPs, but they're mostly porny crack (or cracky porn) and that's not the mood I'm in right now.
Tony came with a shout and his cock down Gibbs' throat. He wasn't sure what he was doing here or why he kept coming back. He only knew he couldn't stay away.
God knew he'd tried.
The first time was forty-eight hours and at least a hundred years after they'd met. There was no way that much blood and pain could have happened in two days. They wound up in the back room of a seedy Baltimore bar (after the emergency room and the morgue and pissing off the press) with their pants down around their ankles and their teeth sunk in each other's skin and their hands ripping joyless orgasms from the other.
Neither acknowledged the moisture in the other's eyes or that rough hands gentled at the end. It was sex and release and confession and escape. What it wasn't, was love.
They kept telling themselves that.
Tony didn't see Gibbs again until his first day as an NCIS agent. He walked through the squad room with a gaggle of other newbies and there he was. Gibbs glanced up and met his eye just as Agent Southerland slipped her hand into Tony's pocket to fondle him as the group stopped. Tony was hard and he let her think it was because of her. He nodded at Gibbs who nodded back before turning to his phone when it rang.
Tony bedded Southerland that night. Then he went home to his mostly boxed up apartment and fell asleep to dream of blue eyes and seedy bars and woke up wondering what the fuck he'd gotten himself into.
Ending up assigned to Gibbs' team felt inevitable. It was like hearing the crack of the bat and seeing the ball arc upwards and knowing it's out of the park or it's a pop fly or the left fielder's going to have to run for it, but he's good and won't miss. Other agents came and went. Dobbs got promoted to Portland, Viv scurried out to somewhere after her fuckup in Spain. Kate. Paula. But always there was Tony and there was Gibbs.
He and Gibbs made sense.
Tony never really expected a repeat of that one night, but finding Gibbs at his door the night after they got back from Spain wasn't as surprising as it should have been. The ball had been riding high since the explosion. This time there was more skin, less horror and something that approached closeness, though neither would admit it.
Definitely a home run.
Then, when Tony needed a place to stay while his building was uninhabitable, staying with Gibbs was both the right and the absolute wrong idea. There was no way to avoid a morning after when waking up in the same bed and Tony had never been good at morning afters. He babbled and tripped and dropped things and they avoided each other for the rest of his stay.
He knew there was a desperate air to his dating habits for a while after that. But there weren’t enough grad students on the planet to drown out the sense memory of waking up in Gibbs' arms.
Tony wanted to storm through Gibbs' front door and rip the man a new one for going off the grid with no one to watch his back. His own sense of self-preservation stopped him and forced him to knock. For all the good that did.
"Gibbs!" Tony resisted slamming the door behind him, but just barely. He did a quick check of the first floor, but didn't find his quarry.
Tony got his own team on a Thursday. He finished moving into Gibbs' house on Saturday and by Monday the rumors were well and truly flying.
At first it felt like being a particularly exotic display at the zoo, but time, and Gibbs' reputation, slowly wore down the curiosity seekers. Tony still called Gibbs "Boss" half the time, but now he tended to also call him Jethro at work. McGee was working out as Gibbs' new senior agent, and Gibbs had a new probie to head slap. Tony's team hadn't cared less from the start (they were all too glad they hadn't been tapped to fill the spot on Gibbs' team) and as the weeks, and the cases, wore on, people mostly found something else to talk about.
But Gibbs and DiNozzo's coming out was too good to be allowed to die out completely.
There were pushy bottoms and then there was Gibbs. Tony remembered the first time that thought came to him. He'd been standing out of the way, as far out of the way as he could get, in MTAC watching Gibbs report to an admiral on the successful results of their investigation despite the various attempts from on high to screw them over. For "on high" read, "the admiral rapidly turning an alarming shade of purple on the big screen." It wasn't a perfect analogy, but Tony could live with it.
Pitching , catching or running the bases, Gibbs always managed to control the ball.
Tony never could resist pick up games.
I also noticed that I have a serious thing about baseball imagery.
Not that I'm complaining, mind you. (You *have* seen MLB uniforms, right? Exactly.)
So, tell me what you think. (I blame webgirl.) Most of these I have no clue where they're going from here which is why they're still WIPs. I have some other one-shot WIPs, but they're mostly porny crack (or cracky porn) and that's not the mood I'm in right now.
Tony came with a shout and his cock down Gibbs' throat. He wasn't sure what he was doing here or why he kept coming back. He only knew he couldn't stay away.
God knew he'd tried.
The first time was forty-eight hours and at least a hundred years after they'd met. There was no way that much blood and pain could have happened in two days. They wound up in the back room of a seedy Baltimore bar (after the emergency room and the morgue and pissing off the press) with their pants down around their ankles and their teeth sunk in each other's skin and their hands ripping joyless orgasms from the other.
Neither acknowledged the moisture in the other's eyes or that rough hands gentled at the end. It was sex and release and confession and escape. What it wasn't, was love.
They kept telling themselves that.
Tony didn't see Gibbs again until his first day as an NCIS agent. He walked through the squad room with a gaggle of other newbies and there he was. Gibbs glanced up and met his eye just as Agent Southerland slipped her hand into Tony's pocket to fondle him as the group stopped. Tony was hard and he let her think it was because of her. He nodded at Gibbs who nodded back before turning to his phone when it rang.
Tony bedded Southerland that night. Then he went home to his mostly boxed up apartment and fell asleep to dream of blue eyes and seedy bars and woke up wondering what the fuck he'd gotten himself into.
Ending up assigned to Gibbs' team felt inevitable. It was like hearing the crack of the bat and seeing the ball arc upwards and knowing it's out of the park or it's a pop fly or the left fielder's going to have to run for it, but he's good and won't miss. Other agents came and went. Dobbs got promoted to Portland, Viv scurried out to somewhere after her fuckup in Spain. Kate. Paula. But always there was Tony and there was Gibbs.
He and Gibbs made sense.
Tony never really expected a repeat of that one night, but finding Gibbs at his door the night after they got back from Spain wasn't as surprising as it should have been. The ball had been riding high since the explosion. This time there was more skin, less horror and something that approached closeness, though neither would admit it.
Definitely a home run.
Then, when Tony needed a place to stay while his building was uninhabitable, staying with Gibbs was both the right and the absolute wrong idea. There was no way to avoid a morning after when waking up in the same bed and Tony had never been good at morning afters. He babbled and tripped and dropped things and they avoided each other for the rest of his stay.
He knew there was a desperate air to his dating habits for a while after that. But there weren’t enough grad students on the planet to drown out the sense memory of waking up in Gibbs' arms.
Tony wanted to storm through Gibbs' front door and rip the man a new one for going off the grid with no one to watch his back. His own sense of self-preservation stopped him and forced him to knock. For all the good that did.
"Gibbs!" Tony resisted slamming the door behind him, but just barely. He did a quick check of the first floor, but didn't find his quarry.
Tony got his own team on a Thursday. He finished moving into Gibbs' house on Saturday and by Monday the rumors were well and truly flying.
At first it felt like being a particularly exotic display at the zoo, but time, and Gibbs' reputation, slowly wore down the curiosity seekers. Tony still called Gibbs "Boss" half the time, but now he tended to also call him Jethro at work. McGee was working out as Gibbs' new senior agent, and Gibbs had a new probie to head slap. Tony's team hadn't cared less from the start (they were all too glad they hadn't been tapped to fill the spot on Gibbs' team) and as the weeks, and the cases, wore on, people mostly found something else to talk about.
But Gibbs and DiNozzo's coming out was too good to be allowed to die out completely.
There were pushy bottoms and then there was Gibbs. Tony remembered the first time that thought came to him. He'd been standing out of the way, as far out of the way as he could get, in MTAC watching Gibbs report to an admiral on the successful results of their investigation despite the various attempts from on high to screw them over. For "on high" read, "the admiral rapidly turning an alarming shade of purple on the big screen." It wasn't a perfect analogy, but Tony could live with it.
Pitching , catching or running the bases, Gibbs always managed to control the ball.
Tony never could resist pick up games.