Fic - NCIS - "Three-Part Recovery Plan" - Tony/Abby (adult)
This is entry 6 of 6 for Round 12 of rounds_of_kink. Posted here for archival purposes.
~~~~~~ ~~ ~~~~~~
Title: Three-Part Recovery Plan
Author: tres_mechante
Fandom: NCIS
Pairing/character: Anthony DiNozzo/Abby Sciuto
Rating: FRAO (Adult)
Disclaimer: So not mine. The characters were seduced by my muse for nefarious but ultimately enjoyable purposes. No infringement intended. No profit made. No point in legal action. The characters are free to leave anytime, if they are so inclined.
Word count: 3,050 approx.
Prompt: Tony thought that this was an extreme way of trying to cure his claustrophobia. Requested by n3_slashchat
Kink: coffin
Notes/Warnings: Language, bondage, descriptions of sex, sex in a coffin, dom!Abby, over-eagersub!Tony, pseudo-psychobabble. Written on very little sleep, so mind went to strange places during the creative process.
~~~ ~ ~~~
Step One - Admit there is a problem.
“DiNozzo!”
“Here, boss,” gasped Tony as he hurried out of the stairwell.
Gibbs frowned. “There a reason you’re sucking wind?”
“Uh, missed the elevator,” he wheezed, “didn’t want to keep you waiting.” He handed the file folder to Gibbs, who grunted his thanks and headed to the director’s office.
Tony staggered to his desk and flopped into his chair, grabbing his water bottle to gulp down the lukewarm liquid. He straightened up and reached out to turn his monitor back on, but hesitated when he noticed McGee watching him.
Tony looked down in case he had dribbled on his tie, but didn’t see anything out of place. “What?”
McGee shrugged. “Nothing. Really. It’s just...”
“Just...”
McGee looked around quickly and, seeing Ziva occupied on the phone, got up to stand in front of Tony’s desk. “Look, Tony, is everything okay?”
“You are making even less sense than usual, Probie. Just spit it out.”
McGee hesitated. “It’s just, well, I couldn’t help but notice that you haven’t taken the elevator all week.”
Tony immediately plastered on a grin and patted his stomach. “Haven’t had time to hit the gym lately, so I’m getting my workout wherever I can. Hence, the stairs.” Tony glared at McGee. “Got a problem with that?”
Gibbs came through the bullpen. “Grab your gear people,” he barked on his way to the elevator.
Tony, McGee and Ziva scrambled to follow. McGee squeezed into the elevator just before the doors closed; Tony had already veered toward the stairs.
~~~ ~ ~~~
Abby fixed Tony with a stern look. “McGee says you’ve been acting weird.”
“Oh? And how, pray tell, does Probie define weird?” Tony held up his hand to silence Abby. “Never mind. The answer would probably just hurt my head.”
Since Abby assured him the results would be ready “any minute, now - I swear”, Tony had settled in to visit his favourite Goth. He was regretting that decision.
“Tony, this is serious. Gibbs isn’t stupid and sooner or later he’s going to figure out something’s wrong.”
Tony slumped in his seat. “I’m kinda hoping it’ll be later and that the problem will be resolved so there won’t actually be anything to notice,” he muttered.
“That’s a big improvement,” she said, giving Tony an encouraging hug. “At lease you’re admitting there is a problem.”
Abby stepped back and focused on fiddling with her lab equipment while the printer finished printing the test results. The last thing she wanted to do was crowd Tony. It had been almost two weeks since The Incident that saw Tony virtually buried alive, but instead of getting better, things were getting worse - and Abby wasn’t sure how to fix it.
Step Two - Identify the specifics of the problem.
Tony pulled harder on the restraints, but the only thing he accomplished was muscle strain. He relaxed against the pillows, well and truly bound hand and foot to his own bed. Well, it was his own fault, really. He’d gone bar hopping after a bad case one night, searching for oblivion, and he’d found it between the legs of a hot take-charge woman. The fact that it was one of his closest friends he’d stumbled upon - literally - had been icing on the cake.
He tugged on the silk scarves again but was definitely not going anywhere.
“How are you feeling?”
Tony looked over at his lover of six months, admiring the sway of naked hips and bounce of perky tits as she paced at the foot of the bed.
“Truth is, Abbs, I’m feeling a bit frustrated.”
She paused in her pacing. “You’re not feeling claustrophobic or anything like that?”
Much as Tony adored Abby, there were some days he could only stand on the platform and wave bye-bye to her train of thought. “Am I supposed to feel claustrophobic?” he asked tentatively.
Abby’s eyes got wide. “No! Absolutely not! But if you were, you’d tell me, right?”
Tony banged his head against the pillow a couple of times.
“Tony! Are you okay? You’re having a seizure - I’ll -“
Whatever she would have done was cut off by Tony’s frustrated yell “Abigail!”
Abby stared at him, her lower lip quivering. “You called me Abigail,” she accused.
“Please, if you feel any fondness for me whatsoever, I beg you to tell me what’s going on.”
Abby sat beside him on the bed, and resting a hand on his chest. “Promise you won’t be mad at me?”
“Sweetheart, I just want to know what’s going through that wonderfully convoluted mind of yours,” Tony assured her.
“Well, you won’t go see Doc Richardson - I know, you don’t want to risk a psych visit making it into your record - and, Tony, this is starting to affect your work.”
“Not arguing with you. But what does that have to do with being tied to my bed while you pace and mutter to yourself?”
“I was trying to figure out - oh, did I tell you about the article on fear reactions and associated emotional...uh, right. Focus. I was trying to see if we could pinpoint the exact nature of the phobic reactions.” Abby plucked at the hair on her lover’s chest. “I figured maybe being unable to move would be the key trigger.”
Tony sighed. “The only reaction I’m experiencing is a serious case of frustration, and maybe blue balls, but that seems to have resolved itself.” He groaned when she frowned at his limp cock. “No claustrophobia, Abby. I know I’m in an open area, even if I can’t just get up and leave at the moment.”
Abby looked thoughtful for a moment. “So, maybe the issue is helplessness. You feel kinda helpless, right?”
“Well, sure, but isn’t that the whole point of this,” he said, tugging on his bonds. “And I thought there was going to be a payoff in terms of great sex. I wasn’t expecting to be a psych experiment.”
Abby pouted but reached for the bindings on his wrist. She straddled his chest to reach both of his wrists at the same time. “I’m sorry, Tony. I really thought it would help if we could recreate the feelings from The Incident. You know, give us something to fight against instead of all these vague fears cropping up.”
Tony groaned when Abby shifted positions so that she faced his feet and straddled his thighs to reach the other scarves holding him in place. His cock was certainly taking notice of all that warm womanly squirming.
Once he was free, Tony sat up and pulled Abby back against his chest. He rested his chin on her shoulder and whispered soothingly to her. “It’s okay, baby.” He kissed her neck. “Next time we play with the bondage thing, though, you better mean business.”
Abby giggled, but it was a watery sound and Tony knew she was crying.
Tony hugged her tight. “I appreciate the thought, angel, really I do. It’s just that what happened with Erskine was less Perils of Pauline and more Cask of Amontillado, what with the being walled up in a crawl space.”
Abby pulled away enough to twist around on his lap. She kissed him softly, almost chastely. “We almost lost you.”
“I’m here. Not going anywhere anytime soon,” he promised. “How about a snuggle? Maybe we can try the bondage thing again later. Virile, handsome warrior - that’s me - tied to the altar as a sacrifice for the beautiful dark goddess - that’s you, by the way.”
Abby’s smile was worth the strangeness of the evening.
Tony spooned behind Abby and felt himself relax, but not too much because he could almost hear Abby thinking - and most likely plotting.
Step Three - Replace negative associations with positive ones.
Tony thought that this was an extreme way of trying to cure his claustrophobia - and he wanted no part of it. “Abby, I really don’t think this is a good idea,” he said, refusing to budge another inch despite Abby tugging on his arm.
“Tony! This is perfect. You have a fear response to enclosed spaces. We’re just going to give you a new set of stimuli to replace the negative ones.” Abby all but bounced in place. “This’ll work, I promise.”
“Abby, we talked about this when this thing between us got serious. I said no then and I’m saying it now.”
“What is the worst that can happen? You’re safe here; I won’t let anything happen to you - I swear!”
“To quote Gibbs, not just no - hell no!” Tony glared at Abby and stormed from her bedroom, well, coffin room. He ignored Abby calling his name and made a beeline for the front door, where he abruptly stopped.
Tony muttered a quiet “Fuck” and banged his head lightly against the door a few times before resting his forehead against the solid wood. He took several deep cleansing breaths and went back to the candlelit bedroom - coffin room, whatever.
“I’m not spending the night there,” he said from the doorway.
Abby jumped up from her perch on the bench beside the coffin, but did not approach. “An hour, that’s all - I swear. I pinkie swear!”
“Ten minutes, and that’s it,” he countered.
“You have to give it a fair chance, Tony.” She glared at him before her expression suddenly lightened once more. “Okay, 45 minutes, then; I can work with that.”
Tony narrowed his eyes in what he hoped was a threatening manner. “Thirty minutes, not a second more.”
Abby gave him a triumphant smile, which prompted Tony to add, “And the clock starts now.”
“That’s not fair,” whined Abby.
“Tick tock,” was his only response.
“Fine,” she huffed. Abby stalked toward him and proceeded to shove Tony into a plush armless chair. While Tony settled into a more comfortable position, Abby walked a few feet away and stood with her back to him.
Tony watch, puzzled, while she just stood there, wrapped in her long silk robe. His eyes traveled from the long dark hair down the straight line of a back he knew in intimate detail and fixated on her hips, which had begun to sway seductively.
Abby loosened the sash of her robe and tugged on one end until it slithered free of the loops. She reached out one silk-clad arm and negligently tossed the sash away. Slowly, the robe dropped from her shoulders, revealing gloriously pale skin highlighted by the darker ink of her tattoos.
Tony was spellbound. He loved it when she put on a show for him, and Abby seemed to get off on putting on a performance.
As the robe lost its battle with gravity and hit the floor, Abby quickly turned toward Tony. He began panting in earnest; Abby was his favourite wet dream. The merry widow corset accentuated her curves, the red satin and black lace painting an erotic image against the milky white skin. She ran her hands down her sides, around the swell of her breasts, over the narrowed waist and along her hips until her fingers framed her sex.
Tony greedily looked his fill at his Goth goddess, but what transfixed him was the expression on her face. She looked playful and mischievous and so damn desirable he could barely breath. She was his very own Bettie Paige.
Suddenly, Abby stood before him, balanced on ridiculously high heels. She bent down and brushed her lips against his. When she backed away, she grabbed a handful of Tony’s shirt and pulled him up with her.
Tony went willingly.
Swaying to music only she could hear, Abby deftly unbuttoned his shirt. Tony followed her movements around the room, trying to stay close to her. However, every time he tried to touch her, to caress her, she gently batted his hands away.
Once his shirt floated to the floor, Abby went to work on his belt. She pressed butterfly soft kisses across his chest, with the occasional nip to keep him focused. By the time his pants were undone Abby had worked her way down his abdomen, with a brief stop to tongue-fuck his navel, and had her hands under the waistband of his underwear.
Moving into a decided lewd squat before him, Abby dragged his pants and underwear down his long legs. With a brief kiss to the tip of his penis, she knelt down to remove his socks and shoes along with the rest of his clothes.
When she was done, Abby slithered and shimmied her way up his body, the satin of her corset raising goose bumps all over his body.
“Abby, please,” he moaned, the first words he’d spoken since she started her seduction.
“Please what, Tony? Please let you come? Maybe.” She wrapped a hand around his cock and tugged as she walked backwards. “Please stop? Not happening.”
Tony gasped when he was quickly turned and forced to sit. The leather padding of the bench slapped his ass when he landed hard.
Abby crawled onto his lap, straddling his lap and brushing lightly against his aching cock.
Tony whimpered. “Please, baby, please.”
“Please what?” she whispered against his lips. “Please me? Oh yeah, that’s the idea.”
Abby suddenly pressed against him, and the added weight threw him off balance enough that he fell backwards. He landed with a breathless “Oof” when Abby landed on top of him, his hands reflexively settling at her waist to steady her.
Tony watched, helpless, as Abby lifted herself and shifted her thong enough to allow her pussy to rub against his cock. He wanted to thrust upward into that warm wet heat but couldn’t see to get the leverage to do much of anything.
Abby rose up once more and settled herself over his cock. She met his eyes and held his gaze as she lowered herself on him. Their matching moans echoed in the room. Abby remained still, watching him watching her.
“Hey,” she whispered.
“Hey,” he whispered back. “Now what?”
Abby merely leaned down to brush her lips against his before sitting up again. After a few breathless moments, she began to move.
Tony could do nothing but let her take charge. There was no room to roll her and take control, and he still couldn’t get enough leverage to do more than offer shallow thrusts. After all the seductive teasing, it didn’t take long for Tony to find his release. Or more accurately, for Abby to grant him release since she was clearly the one in charge.
Tony had no idea how long he’d been out of it, but with renewed awareness came muscle strain. He took a quick inventory of body parts and realized he was flat on his back in a narrow box - that damn coffin - but his legs were hanging out and over the bottom edge of the coffin. And the position was now threatening to cut off circulation below his knees.
He nudged the woman cuddled on his chest and got a swat on the nose for his troubles.
“Abbs? Hon, you’ve to go move or there’s going to be some permanent damage,” he said.
She lifted her head and glared at him with blurry eyes. “Are you saying I’m heavy?”
“Never, and I mean never. But my legs are going to sleep.”
Abby twisted a little more, and looked behind her. She nodded in understanding and began to shift off of him. Tony yelped when a knee landed on a vulnerable spot.
“Sorry,” she muttered, trying to move without causing further injury.
Finally, she worked herself out of the coffin and helped Tony slid back so he could straighten his legs. She looked at him as he stretched out her coffin while she massaged his calves. “How do you feel,” she asked.
“Dead,” he said. “You killed me. You should go to jail, but Gibbs likes you better than me so he’ll probably screw up the investigation on purpose so you won’t have to be locked up.”
Abby snorted at that. “I’m serious, Tony. Are you okay?”
Tony opened his eyes and looked around at the coffin’s interior. Then he met Abby’s concerned look. “Honestly? I think there’s going to be problems down the road.” He sat up and gingerly heaved himself out of the box.
Abby looked very worried. “What kind of problem? I mean, this should have worked - sex is a very positive stimulus for you.”
“Oh, it’s positive alright. So positive, I’m probably going to be sporting wood at the next funeral I go to,” he said.
Abby’s look of shock quickly turned to one of delight. “It worked? You don’t feel claustrophobic about the coffin?”
“Well, I don’t know. We might have to repeat this a few times to be sure,” he said.
Abby squealed and threw herself at him. Tony held warm, squirming, naked Abby and laughed. He knew he’d never be really comfortable with the coffin, but at least he could sometimes - but maybe only on special occassions - indulge her by sharing it with her. He frowned as he looked back at the coffin and wondered if it came in a double or queen size.
Abby pulled out of his arms and led him into the spare room where the real bed was. She preferred her coffin when at home, but had gotten used to the bed whenever Tony stayed over.
Snuggled under the blankets, Abby began wondering aloud if Tony was cured enough to be able to take the elevator again. She began suggesting different elevators they could experiment in, where they could hit the stop button and maybe have quickies, or just make out.
Tony whimpered quietly. Assuming Abby actually succeeded in getting him to have elevator sex, he may never be able to work at the Naval Yard again. If he reacted in an elevator anywhere near as intensely as he did in the coffin, then the next time Gibbs dragged him into his ‘office’ for a conference, the meeting was going to be way beyond awkward.
“Tony, are you even listening to me?” asked a petulant Abby.
“I’ll listen later, baby, promise. Let’s just bask in the afterglow now, okay?” He kissed her forehead and settled her head back against his shoulder.
While he waited for the buzz in his nervous system to settle down, Tony made a mental note to go in to work extra early and test out how he did on the elevator. He made another note to ask Abby to go with him.
---END---
Note 2: This is my first Tony/Abby fic. rounds_of_kink has been luring me into writing all kinds of things I don’t normally write. *falls to knees* Thank you!
~~~~~~ ~~ ~~~~~~
Title: Three-Part Recovery Plan
Author: tres_mechante
Fandom: NCIS
Pairing/character: Anthony DiNozzo/Abby Sciuto
Rating: FRAO (Adult)
Disclaimer: So not mine. The characters were seduced by my muse for nefarious but ultimately enjoyable purposes. No infringement intended. No profit made. No point in legal action. The characters are free to leave anytime, if they are so inclined.
Word count: 3,050 approx.
Prompt: Tony thought that this was an extreme way of trying to cure his claustrophobia. Requested by n3_slashchat
Kink: coffin
Notes/Warnings: Language, bondage, descriptions of sex, sex in a coffin, dom!Abby, over-eagersub!Tony, pseudo-psychobabble. Written on very little sleep, so mind went to strange places during the creative process.
~~~ ~ ~~~
Step One - Admit there is a problem.
“DiNozzo!”
“Here, boss,” gasped Tony as he hurried out of the stairwell.
Gibbs frowned. “There a reason you’re sucking wind?”
“Uh, missed the elevator,” he wheezed, “didn’t want to keep you waiting.” He handed the file folder to Gibbs, who grunted his thanks and headed to the director’s office.
Tony staggered to his desk and flopped into his chair, grabbing his water bottle to gulp down the lukewarm liquid. He straightened up and reached out to turn his monitor back on, but hesitated when he noticed McGee watching him.
Tony looked down in case he had dribbled on his tie, but didn’t see anything out of place. “What?”
McGee shrugged. “Nothing. Really. It’s just...”
“Just...”
McGee looked around quickly and, seeing Ziva occupied on the phone, got up to stand in front of Tony’s desk. “Look, Tony, is everything okay?”
“You are making even less sense than usual, Probie. Just spit it out.”
McGee hesitated. “It’s just, well, I couldn’t help but notice that you haven’t taken the elevator all week.”
Tony immediately plastered on a grin and patted his stomach. “Haven’t had time to hit the gym lately, so I’m getting my workout wherever I can. Hence, the stairs.” Tony glared at McGee. “Got a problem with that?”
Gibbs came through the bullpen. “Grab your gear people,” he barked on his way to the elevator.
Tony, McGee and Ziva scrambled to follow. McGee squeezed into the elevator just before the doors closed; Tony had already veered toward the stairs.
~~~ ~ ~~~
Abby fixed Tony with a stern look. “McGee says you’ve been acting weird.”
“Oh? And how, pray tell, does Probie define weird?” Tony held up his hand to silence Abby. “Never mind. The answer would probably just hurt my head.”
Since Abby assured him the results would be ready “any minute, now - I swear”, Tony had settled in to visit his favourite Goth. He was regretting that decision.
“Tony, this is serious. Gibbs isn’t stupid and sooner or later he’s going to figure out something’s wrong.”
Tony slumped in his seat. “I’m kinda hoping it’ll be later and that the problem will be resolved so there won’t actually be anything to notice,” he muttered.
“That’s a big improvement,” she said, giving Tony an encouraging hug. “At lease you’re admitting there is a problem.”
Abby stepped back and focused on fiddling with her lab equipment while the printer finished printing the test results. The last thing she wanted to do was crowd Tony. It had been almost two weeks since The Incident that saw Tony virtually buried alive, but instead of getting better, things were getting worse - and Abby wasn’t sure how to fix it.
Step Two - Identify the specifics of the problem.
Tony pulled harder on the restraints, but the only thing he accomplished was muscle strain. He relaxed against the pillows, well and truly bound hand and foot to his own bed. Well, it was his own fault, really. He’d gone bar hopping after a bad case one night, searching for oblivion, and he’d found it between the legs of a hot take-charge woman. The fact that it was one of his closest friends he’d stumbled upon - literally - had been icing on the cake.
He tugged on the silk scarves again but was definitely not going anywhere.
“How are you feeling?”
Tony looked over at his lover of six months, admiring the sway of naked hips and bounce of perky tits as she paced at the foot of the bed.
“Truth is, Abbs, I’m feeling a bit frustrated.”
She paused in her pacing. “You’re not feeling claustrophobic or anything like that?”
Much as Tony adored Abby, there were some days he could only stand on the platform and wave bye-bye to her train of thought. “Am I supposed to feel claustrophobic?” he asked tentatively.
Abby’s eyes got wide. “No! Absolutely not! But if you were, you’d tell me, right?”
Tony banged his head against the pillow a couple of times.
“Tony! Are you okay? You’re having a seizure - I’ll -“
Whatever she would have done was cut off by Tony’s frustrated yell “Abigail!”
Abby stared at him, her lower lip quivering. “You called me Abigail,” she accused.
“Please, if you feel any fondness for me whatsoever, I beg you to tell me what’s going on.”
Abby sat beside him on the bed, and resting a hand on his chest. “Promise you won’t be mad at me?”
“Sweetheart, I just want to know what’s going through that wonderfully convoluted mind of yours,” Tony assured her.
“Well, you won’t go see Doc Richardson - I know, you don’t want to risk a psych visit making it into your record - and, Tony, this is starting to affect your work.”
“Not arguing with you. But what does that have to do with being tied to my bed while you pace and mutter to yourself?”
“I was trying to figure out - oh, did I tell you about the article on fear reactions and associated emotional...uh, right. Focus. I was trying to see if we could pinpoint the exact nature of the phobic reactions.” Abby plucked at the hair on her lover’s chest. “I figured maybe being unable to move would be the key trigger.”
Tony sighed. “The only reaction I’m experiencing is a serious case of frustration, and maybe blue balls, but that seems to have resolved itself.” He groaned when she frowned at his limp cock. “No claustrophobia, Abby. I know I’m in an open area, even if I can’t just get up and leave at the moment.”
Abby looked thoughtful for a moment. “So, maybe the issue is helplessness. You feel kinda helpless, right?”
“Well, sure, but isn’t that the whole point of this,” he said, tugging on his bonds. “And I thought there was going to be a payoff in terms of great sex. I wasn’t expecting to be a psych experiment.”
Abby pouted but reached for the bindings on his wrist. She straddled his chest to reach both of his wrists at the same time. “I’m sorry, Tony. I really thought it would help if we could recreate the feelings from The Incident. You know, give us something to fight against instead of all these vague fears cropping up.”
Tony groaned when Abby shifted positions so that she faced his feet and straddled his thighs to reach the other scarves holding him in place. His cock was certainly taking notice of all that warm womanly squirming.
Once he was free, Tony sat up and pulled Abby back against his chest. He rested his chin on her shoulder and whispered soothingly to her. “It’s okay, baby.” He kissed her neck. “Next time we play with the bondage thing, though, you better mean business.”
Abby giggled, but it was a watery sound and Tony knew she was crying.
Tony hugged her tight. “I appreciate the thought, angel, really I do. It’s just that what happened with Erskine was less Perils of Pauline and more Cask of Amontillado, what with the being walled up in a crawl space.”
Abby pulled away enough to twist around on his lap. She kissed him softly, almost chastely. “We almost lost you.”
“I’m here. Not going anywhere anytime soon,” he promised. “How about a snuggle? Maybe we can try the bondage thing again later. Virile, handsome warrior - that’s me - tied to the altar as a sacrifice for the beautiful dark goddess - that’s you, by the way.”
Abby’s smile was worth the strangeness of the evening.
Tony spooned behind Abby and felt himself relax, but not too much because he could almost hear Abby thinking - and most likely plotting.
Step Three - Replace negative associations with positive ones.
Tony thought that this was an extreme way of trying to cure his claustrophobia - and he wanted no part of it. “Abby, I really don’t think this is a good idea,” he said, refusing to budge another inch despite Abby tugging on his arm.
“Tony! This is perfect. You have a fear response to enclosed spaces. We’re just going to give you a new set of stimuli to replace the negative ones.” Abby all but bounced in place. “This’ll work, I promise.”
“Abby, we talked about this when this thing between us got serious. I said no then and I’m saying it now.”
“What is the worst that can happen? You’re safe here; I won’t let anything happen to you - I swear!”
“To quote Gibbs, not just no - hell no!” Tony glared at Abby and stormed from her bedroom, well, coffin room. He ignored Abby calling his name and made a beeline for the front door, where he abruptly stopped.
Tony muttered a quiet “Fuck” and banged his head lightly against the door a few times before resting his forehead against the solid wood. He took several deep cleansing breaths and went back to the candlelit bedroom - coffin room, whatever.
“I’m not spending the night there,” he said from the doorway.
Abby jumped up from her perch on the bench beside the coffin, but did not approach. “An hour, that’s all - I swear. I pinkie swear!”
“Ten minutes, and that’s it,” he countered.
“You have to give it a fair chance, Tony.” She glared at him before her expression suddenly lightened once more. “Okay, 45 minutes, then; I can work with that.”
Tony narrowed his eyes in what he hoped was a threatening manner. “Thirty minutes, not a second more.”
Abby gave him a triumphant smile, which prompted Tony to add, “And the clock starts now.”
“That’s not fair,” whined Abby.
“Tick tock,” was his only response.
“Fine,” she huffed. Abby stalked toward him and proceeded to shove Tony into a plush armless chair. While Tony settled into a more comfortable position, Abby walked a few feet away and stood with her back to him.
Tony watch, puzzled, while she just stood there, wrapped in her long silk robe. His eyes traveled from the long dark hair down the straight line of a back he knew in intimate detail and fixated on her hips, which had begun to sway seductively.
Abby loosened the sash of her robe and tugged on one end until it slithered free of the loops. She reached out one silk-clad arm and negligently tossed the sash away. Slowly, the robe dropped from her shoulders, revealing gloriously pale skin highlighted by the darker ink of her tattoos.
Tony was spellbound. He loved it when she put on a show for him, and Abby seemed to get off on putting on a performance.
As the robe lost its battle with gravity and hit the floor, Abby quickly turned toward Tony. He began panting in earnest; Abby was his favourite wet dream. The merry widow corset accentuated her curves, the red satin and black lace painting an erotic image against the milky white skin. She ran her hands down her sides, around the swell of her breasts, over the narrowed waist and along her hips until her fingers framed her sex.
Tony greedily looked his fill at his Goth goddess, but what transfixed him was the expression on her face. She looked playful and mischievous and so damn desirable he could barely breath. She was his very own Bettie Paige.
Suddenly, Abby stood before him, balanced on ridiculously high heels. She bent down and brushed her lips against his. When she backed away, she grabbed a handful of Tony’s shirt and pulled him up with her.
Tony went willingly.
Swaying to music only she could hear, Abby deftly unbuttoned his shirt. Tony followed her movements around the room, trying to stay close to her. However, every time he tried to touch her, to caress her, she gently batted his hands away.
Once his shirt floated to the floor, Abby went to work on his belt. She pressed butterfly soft kisses across his chest, with the occasional nip to keep him focused. By the time his pants were undone Abby had worked her way down his abdomen, with a brief stop to tongue-fuck his navel, and had her hands under the waistband of his underwear.
Moving into a decided lewd squat before him, Abby dragged his pants and underwear down his long legs. With a brief kiss to the tip of his penis, she knelt down to remove his socks and shoes along with the rest of his clothes.
When she was done, Abby slithered and shimmied her way up his body, the satin of her corset raising goose bumps all over his body.
“Abby, please,” he moaned, the first words he’d spoken since she started her seduction.
“Please what, Tony? Please let you come? Maybe.” She wrapped a hand around his cock and tugged as she walked backwards. “Please stop? Not happening.”
Tony gasped when he was quickly turned and forced to sit. The leather padding of the bench slapped his ass when he landed hard.
Abby crawled onto his lap, straddling his lap and brushing lightly against his aching cock.
Tony whimpered. “Please, baby, please.”
“Please what?” she whispered against his lips. “Please me? Oh yeah, that’s the idea.”
Abby suddenly pressed against him, and the added weight threw him off balance enough that he fell backwards. He landed with a breathless “Oof” when Abby landed on top of him, his hands reflexively settling at her waist to steady her.
Tony watched, helpless, as Abby lifted herself and shifted her thong enough to allow her pussy to rub against his cock. He wanted to thrust upward into that warm wet heat but couldn’t see to get the leverage to do much of anything.
Abby rose up once more and settled herself over his cock. She met his eyes and held his gaze as she lowered herself on him. Their matching moans echoed in the room. Abby remained still, watching him watching her.
“Hey,” she whispered.
“Hey,” he whispered back. “Now what?”
Abby merely leaned down to brush her lips against his before sitting up again. After a few breathless moments, she began to move.
Tony could do nothing but let her take charge. There was no room to roll her and take control, and he still couldn’t get enough leverage to do more than offer shallow thrusts. After all the seductive teasing, it didn’t take long for Tony to find his release. Or more accurately, for Abby to grant him release since she was clearly the one in charge.
Tony had no idea how long he’d been out of it, but with renewed awareness came muscle strain. He took a quick inventory of body parts and realized he was flat on his back in a narrow box - that damn coffin - but his legs were hanging out and over the bottom edge of the coffin. And the position was now threatening to cut off circulation below his knees.
He nudged the woman cuddled on his chest and got a swat on the nose for his troubles.
“Abbs? Hon, you’ve to go move or there’s going to be some permanent damage,” he said.
She lifted her head and glared at him with blurry eyes. “Are you saying I’m heavy?”
“Never, and I mean never. But my legs are going to sleep.”
Abby twisted a little more, and looked behind her. She nodded in understanding and began to shift off of him. Tony yelped when a knee landed on a vulnerable spot.
“Sorry,” she muttered, trying to move without causing further injury.
Finally, she worked herself out of the coffin and helped Tony slid back so he could straighten his legs. She looked at him as he stretched out her coffin while she massaged his calves. “How do you feel,” she asked.
“Dead,” he said. “You killed me. You should go to jail, but Gibbs likes you better than me so he’ll probably screw up the investigation on purpose so you won’t have to be locked up.”
Abby snorted at that. “I’m serious, Tony. Are you okay?”
Tony opened his eyes and looked around at the coffin’s interior. Then he met Abby’s concerned look. “Honestly? I think there’s going to be problems down the road.” He sat up and gingerly heaved himself out of the box.
Abby looked very worried. “What kind of problem? I mean, this should have worked - sex is a very positive stimulus for you.”
“Oh, it’s positive alright. So positive, I’m probably going to be sporting wood at the next funeral I go to,” he said.
Abby’s look of shock quickly turned to one of delight. “It worked? You don’t feel claustrophobic about the coffin?”
“Well, I don’t know. We might have to repeat this a few times to be sure,” he said.
Abby squealed and threw herself at him. Tony held warm, squirming, naked Abby and laughed. He knew he’d never be really comfortable with the coffin, but at least he could sometimes - but maybe only on special occassions - indulge her by sharing it with her. He frowned as he looked back at the coffin and wondered if it came in a double or queen size.
Abby pulled out of his arms and led him into the spare room where the real bed was. She preferred her coffin when at home, but had gotten used to the bed whenever Tony stayed over.
Snuggled under the blankets, Abby began wondering aloud if Tony was cured enough to be able to take the elevator again. She began suggesting different elevators they could experiment in, where they could hit the stop button and maybe have quickies, or just make out.
Tony whimpered quietly. Assuming Abby actually succeeded in getting him to have elevator sex, he may never be able to work at the Naval Yard again. If he reacted in an elevator anywhere near as intensely as he did in the coffin, then the next time Gibbs dragged him into his ‘office’ for a conference, the meeting was going to be way beyond awkward.
“Tony, are you even listening to me?” asked a petulant Abby.
“I’ll listen later, baby, promise. Let’s just bask in the afterglow now, okay?” He kissed her forehead and settled her head back against his shoulder.
While he waited for the buzz in his nervous system to settle down, Tony made a mental note to go in to work extra early and test out how he did on the elevator. He made another note to ask Abby to go with him.
---END---
Note 2: This is my first Tony/Abby fic. rounds_of_kink has been luring me into writing all kinds of things I don’t normally write. *falls to knees* Thank you!