NCIS/TS Fic: The Cost of Divorce 14/?
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Jim/Blair: Established relationship. Jim/Gibbs: Past Relationship. Gibbs/DiNozzo pre-slash.
Summary: An NCIS agent, a Baltimore detective, a Sentinel, a Guide, a serial killer. What more do you need?
Chapter Summary: Case details & M/M loving. :D.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations from the TV-shows "NCIS" and "The Sentinel". NCIS is created and owned by David P. Bellisarius and CBS. The Sentinel still belongs to Paramount and Pet Fly. I'm just playing… No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Beta'd by: by Annie... Any mistakes left are mine and somewhat deliberate.
For: Ree/Triskellion... she knows why and thanks again
Chapter One. / Chapter Two. / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five / Chapter Six / Chapter Seven / Chapter Eight. / Chapter Nine. / Chapter Ten Revised / Chapter Eleven / Chapter Twelve (a) / Chapter Twelve (b) / Chapter Thirteen
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"Gibbs," Blair spoke as the NCIS agent turned to leave the room, "could you ask Ducky to come up before you leave?"
Gibbs stopped short at the door. The plan had been to ask Abby and Ducky to join them before Tony bounced in with his news. Now might be a good time to get everyone up to speed even if only because Abby could fast track some of the information searches they'd need. "I'll call in Abby as well."
Blair smiled at the apparent attempt to exert control but didn't say anything. Jim and Tony, also wisely remained silent.
Calls were made but there was little, or no time to digest the new information before Abby came bouncing into the conference room. "Hey, Bossman, where's my Caf-Pow?"
"Have you done anything to deserve it?" Gibbs deadpanned as he pressed a chaste kiss on her cheek.
Abby ignored the kiss and pirouetted on the spot until she was facing Gibbs; the glare in the young woman's eye was something to behold.
"Ooh, looks like somebody's in trouble," Tony stage-whispered to Blair, "I reminded Gibbs earlier that he was supposed to take Abby a Caf-Pow, whatever that is."
"Maybe he's getting a little forgetful in his old age," Blair stage-whispered back, "Jim's always forgetting things too."
"If you two are quite finished?" Gibbs turned his formidable gaze on the comedians in the back.
Tony and Blair shared a look that screamed busted but neither man appeared cowed. Given that three sets of eyes were glaring at them: Gibbs’, Abby’s, and Jim’s, it was quite a feat.
"I've pulled together a complete shoe-print for both left and right shoes." Abby started to enumerate all the things she'd done to deserve the yet-to-be-provided Caf-Pow. "I've identified the make and size of the shoes; they're Bates DuraShocks size 9 and while normally common enough, these shoes belong to someone in the Navy."
"And you can tell this by?" Tony looked up from where he was taking notes on everything Abby said.
"Bates has a contract with the Navy to supply boots and shoes; the tread mould is slightly different than the mould for their commercial range. Our killer was definitely wearing Navy boots," she added, with a smug grin.
"And," Gibbs prompted.
"Isn't that enough, bossman?" Abby sighed. "No, of course not. Did anyone tell you that you're greedy, Gibbs? I've also got a partial set of finger prints from one of the coffee cups and they don't match either Kirby or Williams."
"Abbs-"
Whatever comments Gibbs had been about to make were cut short as Ducky walked in. "Are you gentlemen going to eat at all this evening?"
"Evening?" Blair and Tony shared a look that was made all the more comical by the sound of stomachs rumbling in stereo.
"Boss!" Abby turned a glare at Gibbs. "Haven't you fed them yet?"
"We had lunch," Gibbs protested. But his argument was somewhat invalidated when his stomach also growled in sympathy.
"Lunch was seven hours ago, Jethro," Ducky commented before Abby could work up a head of steam. "I thought that was why you called?" Ducky continued with a stern look at Gibbs. Ducky was dressed as you'd expect for someone leaving at the end of a day's work - coat, hat, and briefcase all present. "I was going to ask if Blair and Jim would like to join me for dinner."
"Actually," Blair started collecting together a pile of notes, "that sounds like a great idea. You don't mind if I pick your brains while we're at it?"
"Why, certainly," Ducky smiled at his son, "I take it that's why Jethro called me up? So that you could pick my brains?"
"Busted," Gibbs admitted.
"Well then, I suggest we repair to somewhere to eat before those two young gentlemen collapse. As well as two somewhat geriatric individuals." Ducky nodded his head at Tony and Blair. Abby gave him the look. "Of course our resident tech wizard must come along. Alfredo's is rather used to strange dinner table conversation." Ducky mentioned the local Italian restaurant that was favored by many who worked at the Yard.
"Pizza," Tony sighed.
"Great pizza, and they make a tiramisu to die for." Abby pulled her cell out of her pocket and was dialing before anyone, even Gibbs, had a chance to object.
"You have a pizza restaurant on speed dial?" Jim grinned as he noticed that Alfredo's was number five on Abby's speed dial. "They must be good."
"A table for six, Marko, and warn Papa that we'll be needing extra tiramisu." Abby disconnected the call and turned to face Jim. "They're the best."
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Alfredo's lived up to expectations; the atmosphere was light, the service quick and unobtrusive, and the food was tasty, plentiful, and passed Sentinel inspection. Tony had knocked off, by himself, an extra large sized sausage, pepperoni, extra cheese, leading to comments, and comparisons, about bottomless pits: Tony and Blair studiously ignoring all and sundry comments to concentrate on eating. Papa Freddo had led the group to a small dining room off to the side of the main restaurant when they'd arrived, which meant that the dinner table conversation was able to roam freely over the topics of death, destruction, and the more macabre cases that had been investigated by members of the group without disturbing the appetites of the other diners. In the end it was Jim and Blair who won the unspoken competition; a case involving twin assassins, a corpse in a wheelchair, and a feisty DA taking the prize. With coffee, and the promised tiramisu, being dispersed around the table the conversation drifted back, by unspoken mutual agreement, to the current case.
"So, where do we stand?" Gibbs tapped his glass once, gaining everyone's attention.
"I still haven't finished the preliminaries on all the evidence you bought back, Gibbs." Abby didn't look happy admitting that fact.
"Why not?" Gibbs wasn't too happy to hear that, either. Normally, given the relatively small number of items, Abby could be relied upon to have completed the preliminary investigation.
"Some of the samples I'm not touching until I have Jim down in the lab with me."
Gibbs turned to look at Ellison with a look that screamed and why weren't you helping my forensic scientist?
"Knock it off, Gibbs." Blair stepped into the fray. "Jim's found you evidence today that you wouldn't have but for him, but his concentration’s shot. Some of those samples are going to be one-shots; one chance to get a result. I'm sure you don't want to lose any information, even if it won't be of probative value in court, just because Jim's tired."
"What's the use of collecting those samples then if they aren't of probative value?" Tony wasn't quite used to working this closely with forensics. Normally he sent samples down and results came back.
"Because while they may not be of probative value, they are still going to be of investigative value." Blair had been expecting he'd have to give the lecture on handling Sentinel-found evidence sooner or later so now seemed as good a time as any. "I'm sure you've had samples in the past that you’ve known are crucial to identifying, or excluding, possible perpetrators but for a variety of reasons cannot be used in court. We don't ignore them, but we can't afford to waste them either. In Jim's case this happens a lot more often than the norm mainly because Jim can find types of evidence that is considered too novel by the courts in general. Very much like the early days of DNA profiling."
"So…" Tony looked a little confused, after all DNA was now becoming almost standard; if you had biological fluids or materials-such as hair, bone or other tissue sample-that might show contact between victim and suspect you passed it on for DNA testing.
"Well, for instance, the fibers Jim found will hold the killers scent. Tomorrow, when Jim's rested, we'll get him to have a good sniff and fix that scent in his head. Later, when we interview possible suspects, Jim can compare their smell to that on the fibers."
"You can actually do that? Human scent detection?" Abby was nearly jumping up and down with glee at the possibilities.
"Jim can." Blair proudly gazed at his partner, "Better than a bloodhound, but we haven't published any results yet because it's not something that can be of general forensic use. I'm planning a paper on the use of scent as a forensic tool that might get the wider forensic community interested. Maybe, one day, human scent detection will be just another tool in the forensic scientist's toolbox but for the moment the only scent work accepted by the courts involves the drug dogs."
"But you do have some research, right?" Abby, with a history of publishing articles, cottoned on to the fact that Blair must already have researched the issue otherwise he wouldn't even be discussing it.
"Preliminary results only. The wine industry provided a basis for the thesis that people can distinguish unique scents, but extending identification of grape variety to human forensic work will require a lot more research."
"What use then is scent detection going to be in catching my killer?" Gibbs wasn't interested in esoteric research topics.
"Plenty." Blair flashed a grin at Jim, "Jim, here, has a perfect recall for scents, and while human scent detection is something that currently won't pass the generally accepted by scientific community test that is applied whenever a new or novel technique is utilized in court, it doesn't mean we can't use his ability to narrow our suspect pool-"
"Hey, back on target," Gibbs snapped as it was obvious to all and sundry that Abby and Blair could end up going on for hours about the possibilities inherent in a new tool.
Abby shot a pout at Gibbs. "Yes, Bossman. All the samples are logged in and if I can have Jim tomorrow morning-"
"You'll have him." Gibbs tone brooked no argument.
"And an extra large Caf-Pow?" Abby let loose with a poor lost puppy look at Gibbs.
"Yes, a large Caf-Pow," Gibbs grumbled though the tone indicated fondness rather than exasperation. Abby pouted some more. "OK, OK, extra large."
"Ducky," Blair turned to face the medical examiner while pulling a stack of manila folders out of the ever-present backpack, "would you mind having a look over these? I'm beginning to think we haven't found our first homicide yet." Blair indicated one folder, "I think this one might be the second or third of them. I'd like a fresh set of eyes have a look over the files though in case I missed something."
"Gladly, though I doubt you will have missed much," Ducky reassured as he took the offered pile and began to flip through the pages. Ducky seemed more than a little impressed at the amount of information Blair had been able to put together in such a short period of time. "What am I looking for?"
"I'd rather wait till you've looked those over, Ducky. I'd like your fresh opinions."
"Duck?" Gibbs looked at the pile of folders in dismay; no way was the ME going to be able to assess the content quickly.
"Festina lente, Gibbs."
"Gibbs." Blair pulled the NCIS agent’s attention back to him. "We have one advantage here which makes festina lente the right way to go about things. Our killer requires a specific set of circumstances. Without them he's not triggered to kill. Taking a little time now to get profile right isn't going to hurt. I don't think someone's going to die tonight if we don't have all the answers."
"But you don't know," Gibbs pushed.
"No, I don't, but my instinct says no."
"I'd trust Blair on this, Gibbs," Jim finally spoke up, "Now, how about we divide up the people on the list Tony provided, and while Ducky looks over Blair's notes, we do the backgrounds?"
"Who's running this investigation?" Gibbs' didn't look pleased but couldn't really fault Jim as the suggestion was one it was the logical next step. Gibbs looked even less pleased when Jim, Tony, and Abby all answered, "Blair!"
"Regardless of who is running the investigation I might suggest a good night's sleep is in order." Ducky spoke before Gibbs had a chance to react. "I'm not as young as I used to be, you know, though I do remember a time-"
"You're only as young as you feel, Duckman." Abby reached over and patted Ducky's arm, effectively heading off at the pass another long, though likely to be pointed in interesting direction, tale. "But I really do need to get some sleep and there's a comfy coffin with my name on it waiting at home."
Coffin! Tony, Jim, and Blair didn't need to say anything as they shared between themselves similar looks of incredulity.
"Is it big enough for two?" Tony couldn't pass up the opportunity to tweak the gothically dressed scientist.
"Absolutely," Abby smiled back at the Baltimore detective, "though you won't be trying it out in the near future."
"What about the far future?" Tony's smile was just on the wrong side of salacious; a fact which earned him a quick clip over the ear.
"Focus. Back at the Yard at oh 600," Gibbs pulled out the NCIS credit card and went to pay the bill while the rest of the circus sorted itself out: Abby heading to her roadster; Ducky to the Morgan and home with a pile of folders; Blair and Jim back to the Westin, and Tony waiting for Gibbs to return so that he could spend another night at Casa Gibbs.
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Ducky sat in the spacious downstairs parlor-come-office of his property in Reston, VA. A glass of Glenrothe's 32 Year Old-Single Malt Scotch sat, mostly ignored, on the sideboard as he flicked through the pile of folders Blair had handed him at Alfredo's. The ME smiled at the detailed and meticulous notes that had been written. Blair Sandburg, anthropologist, had long been admired by Ducky for his insightful work, now that insight was directed elsewhere but none the less still insightful. The kicker, however, remained that Blair Sandburg was also his son and so in reading these notes Ducky also had a chance to get to know the man behind that public face.
Having read through the case files once without ignoring the notations Blair had made to get a feel for the information contained therein, Ducky finally settled down to deeply read the files. Blair had annotated most of the files in purple; Ducky chose green as his annotation color.
Blair had provided an additional folder apart from the case files themselves; this folder contained an ordered list of the cases that Blair thought significant with the first case occurring November 5th 1999 in San Diego. What was worrying was the fact that Blair believed that case was not the first in the series, though it might have been the event that triggered an evolution in the killer's MO. If Blair was correct, then the earlier cases they had yet to identify would likely resemble this homicide. Further notes included the fact that Blair believed that they'd need to look closely at any unsolved homicides from San Diego with extra care given the city's role in Naval training over the years. The fact that the San Diego Naval Training Center had finally ceased all activity that year seemed significant. #1
Given what he knew of Blair Sandburg the forensic profiler, Ducky chose to accept Blair's assessment that these cases were all part of the overall series of homicides. Whereas Blair would have initially been reading the cases files as he came too him-effectively unordered-Ducky opted to read them in date order in an attempt to develop a feel for the evolving MO of their killer.
At first glance there was nothing in the case details for the November 5th homicide to indicate what it was that had caught Blair's eye and made him think this case was part of their serial. In this case the house had been broken into, there was some evidence of a struggle, and only single gunshot wound; almost a polar opposite of the killer's current MO. It was only on reading the case file a second time that Ducky spotted the detail that must have triggered Blair's radar: a notation that the victim had organized to take the day he'd been killed off to reorganize some personal details pertaining to his previous employment in the Navy. It seemed that John Kwan, ex-master sergeant, DI in EOD at San Diego NTC, had retired to be near his ailing ex-wife who had been recently diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer. Blair had annotated the file with: DI resigned 1998 mid-training as ex-wife was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Someone from Naval Personnel office? Why wasn't appointment angle followed up?
Good questions, all, and Ducky couldn't find anything in the case notes that addressed those questions. Instead, additional information indicated the victim had survived the initial contact with their killer, but was later pronounce DOA on arrival at UC San Diego Emergency. A neighbor had heard the gunshot and had immediately called 911, which explained why the police and ambulance had arrived precipitously though not quickly enough to save John Kwan's life. The Uniform that had ridden in the bus with Kwan noted that the man had said nothing before being pronounced dead. This is possibly the second or third homicide. This is the genesis homicide for the killer's subsequent pattern. Ducky agreed with those notations.
Next in the pile was the first of the Boston homicides that Anthony had alluded to. Getting up and retrieving his scotch, Ducky spared a moment of two to consider the Baltimore homicide detective. Given Gibbs' obvious interest, at least to Ducky, in the young man, Ducky had taken the time to look up a bit about Anthony DiNozzo Junior; after all they were basically investigating a serial homicide on the strength of this man's gut. What Ducky had found was that Anthony changed jobs with frightening regularity, yet was highly successful during his tenure at each of the precincts he'd worked. The man was known for having an eye for detail and almost perfect recall, which possibly explained how he'd twigged to the current series; either way Anthony would be a good fit at NCIS.
Of the two Boston homicides that they had case files for, the first was rather light on details. The victim, female this time, Jean Turnky, had been shot twice in the head. She was a recent divorcee with an amicable relationship with her ex. She was newly arrived in Boston having moved there following her new fiancé and as a result had no local enemies, or even general associates that might have wished her dead living in the area. The Turnky homicide had eventually been put in the cold case pile as none of the usual suspects had panned out and there it remained. Boston PD could not be faulted though; the detective in charge had done his due diligence but between the change in MO and the fact that the Kwan and Turnky homicide had occurred in different jurisdictions, made connecting to two almost impossible. In point of fact the only similarity between the two, and that was discovered in hindsight, was the motivation appeared to remain constant; namely, according to Blair's notes in the side margins, punishment for causing an armed forced trainer to resign their position.
The second Boston homicide case file was more detailed but again remained unsolved. The victim, Maria Vengas, this time was a long time resident of Boston although she was planning on moving to Santa Fe with her fiancé. Like the Turnky homicide, Maria had an ex in the services. Maria's ex was also ruled out as a person of interest, though it was noted in follow up that Maria's ex ended up remaining in Boston since he'd apparently accepted a consulting position in Phoenix. The ex, an expert in military intelligence, was normally provided additional training in insurgent detection to special ops teams about to be sent into Afghanistan and Iran. The move to Phoenix would have ended that relationship with the Marine Corp.
Considering the Turnky and Vengas homicides punishment as a motivation made a lot of sense. Ducky agreed with Blair in that sexual need was not the driving force but at least there appeared to be a motive, however bizarre it might seem to them on the outside. The upside of determining the killer's motivation unfortunately led Ducky to a place he wasn't happy given his knowledge of Gibbs and the way Gibbs thought. Their killer wasn't striking at random and Gibbs would not want to risk another member of the armed Services suffering any form of loss if he could prevent it. Gibbs was going to suggest baiting a trap the moment the killer's motivation was made clear to him.
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"You realize that Gibbs is going to offer himself up as bait?" Jim commented from the couch where he was watching the JAGs game on ESN while he'd listened to Blair outline what he thought the serial killer's motive was.
Blair, working at the notes-covered desk in their suite, glanced over at his partner with a look that communicated that he was fully aware of that fact.
"Just warning you," Jim got up and sauntered over to stand behind Blair; to stand really close behind Blair.
"Is that a gun in your pocket, Jim? Blair acknowledged as he leaned back into the hardness that was pressing into the back of his neck, "Or are you just horny?"
"Guess."
"Then in that case I'd better get me bullet proof jacket out otherwise I won't be safe working here," Blair sassed just before he was bodily lifted from the chair and dragged into the bedroom. "Jim-"
"The notes will still be there in the morning and don't think I didn't notice the tension headache you're developing," Jim ignored Blair's protests as dumped his lover in the middle of the king-sized bed.
"Damn over-protective Sentinels," Blair glared at Jim to no avail.
"I can think of two ways to rid you of that headache," Jim smiled sweetly as he started to peel off the pristine white button-down he was wearing. "One involves Tylenol and the other involves a full body massage; your choice, Chief." The grin Jim shot at Blair was entirely too smug as though there was only one choice; the fact that there really was only one choice didn't help.
Actually acknowledging the headache might have been a bad move Blair's part however as moments later the rest of his body decided to make its displeasure known, too. Stiff neck, aching shoulders, a twinge in the lower lumbar, all conspiring to remind Blair that he was no longer 25. Further, nearly two weeks without the time to fit in at least one yoga session was no longer a good idea either. Still, rather than say anything which would have given Jim reason to become even smugger, were it possible, Blair quickly stripped and positioned himself in the middle of the bed, face down with his head resting on crossed arms.
Jim watched as Blair stripped, savoring every moment. How Blair could make taking off a pair of shoes erotic was one of those secrets of the universe that man was never intended to understand but over the years Jim had developed something of a foot fetish; a fetish for Blair's feet in particular. Blair's feet, once the other man had finally rid himself of his socks, were compact and solid like Blair. The big toe on Blair's left foot was slightly bent, a lingering reminder of a chase gone bad that had resulted in a broken toe for Blair and a righteous shoot for Jim.
Blair, well aware of his partner's fixation, clenched and relaxed his feet a few times working the soreness out while enjoying the sight of Jim standing at the end of the bed with a raging erection pointed in his direction. With shoes and socks taken care of Blair began to peel off the layer, after layer, of clothing that covering his torso; regardless of the weather Blair was always careful to remain rugged up as he was prone to chest infections; the legacy of Alex Barnes and his drowning death. First to come off was a deep blue merino-wool jumper. The jumper one of his favorites as Jim often commented that the color really brought out the blue of his eyes; next off, a white button down, and finally a white Henley.
Jim's eyes happily followed the hem of the Henley as it rode up over tight abdominal muscles, across a chest covered with luxurious brown curls-and wasn't Jim glad Blair wasn't one to be ashamed of his body hair-and eventually up along a glorious neckline to eventually reveal Blair's Adam's apple just asking to be nibbled and that face that would have made Botticelli's angels weep.
Blair, never one to pass up a chance to be ogled, leaned back while stretching his arms up over his head. The crack of his shoulder blade's as Blair stretch was loud enough that Blair winced in sympathy with Jim who would have hears the sound echo though his senses. "Like what you see?"
"Yes," Jim licked his lips then flicked his gaze down at the trousers that Blair was still wearing. "Are those going anywhere soon?"
"If they weren't?" Blair liked playing with fire.
"Then I'd have to help them on their way," Jim leaned forward resting his palms on the end of the bed, a very predatory smile on his face.
Blair might have liked to play with fire but these were his favorite dress pants and, remembering what had happened the last time Jim had looked at him with level of intensity, discretion was definitely the better part of keeping his pants intact.
"Commando, I like it," Jim's grin got larger as Blair's pants hit the floor.
"Really, I never would have guessed." Blair finally lay down, spread out like a feast.
Jim spent a good few minutes just watching as pre-cum began to seep from the tip of Blair's erection. Licking his lips at the thought of tasting that nectar Jim leaned forward and flicked his tongue out like a snake to capture the bead of moisture. Smiling evilly Jim stood and while instructing Blair to turn over he went and retrieved the massage oil, and a couple of hot towels, from the en-suite.
Blair complied though his dick wasn't all that happy about being ignored; one lick was not enough to satisfy. Still, the simple act of stretching had illustrated how tied up on knots his back was and while Blair would have liked nothing more than to be nailed to the mattress he'd enjoy it even more after a Jim special massage eased the tension out of his back.
Jim returned and draped warmed towels over Blair's legs and buttocks before he straddled his lover and poured almond oil over Blair's shoulder blades. Using slow, sensuous strokes, Jim began to work out the tension in Blair's shoulders. Using the highly sensitive pads of his finger tips Jim was able to identify the minutest locking of muscle or tendons in Blair's back; gentle pressure from talented thumbs slowly teasing out knots. As Blair relaxed further under his ministrations Jim added a sweeping strike of hands up along Blair's neck with his fingers splayed to comb through dark locks of hair.
"Keep that up and I'm going to fall asleep here," Blair murmured.
While getting Blair to sleep was the eventual endgame of Jim's current activity there were other more entertaining activities to be completed first. Leaning forward Jim began to nip and nibble at the nape of Blair's neck. Blair, arching his neck up and to the side exposed more of his neck to Jim's ministrations. An action Jim heartily approved of as it allowed easier access to one of Blair major hot-spots; the small area of skin behind the earlobe and the earlobe itself. Jim could happily spend hours just using his teeth and tongue to worry at large sapphire stud that adorned Blair's left ear. The stud-a present commemorating the first anniversary of their commitment never let Blair's ear-voluntarily at least; the staff at Cascade General Hospital even had it mentioned in their protocol sheets which unfortunately spoke of how often Blair and/or Jim ended up in the care of that group of professionals.
As Blair began to whimper Jim eased off on teasing the ear lobe. Settling back on his haunches, allowing his hardness to rest atop the towel that covered Blair's behind, Jim returned to massaging Blair's shoulders though he now extended his ministrations downward working the tension out of the muscles supporting ribs and spine. Judging Blair's back relaxed enough that the rest of the evenings activities would remain enjoyable rather than be ruined by an inadvertent spasm Jim peeled the now-cooling towel from Blair's buttocks.
"Gods," Jim sighed, "you are beautiful." If Blair had had the energy to turn his head he'd have seen a look of pure adoration on Jim's countenance as the Sentinel gazed at two mounds of perfection that protected a deep valley and a hidden treasure. Almost without the direction of conscious thought Jim's hands began to fondle and massage Blair's buttocks. Sliding his body downward between Blair's legs, Jim breathed deeply in the scent of musk and sex that was forming as pre-cum continued to leak from the erections of both men.
"I've got to taste you," Jim groaned, "Please, can I taste you."
"Yes, yes, yes," Blair started to whimper even louder as Jim finally pressed his face into cradle formed by buttocks and thighs to protect the anal entrance. Jim's tongue, of its own accord, darted forward to lick and probe the ring of muscle that was Blair's entrance. Tastes, earthy and dank exploded on Jim's tongue. The heady smell released causing Jim to push his tongue deeper into that recess. Wanting deeper access Jim used his hands to spread Blair's buttocks further apart while his thumbs, still coated with oil, were gentle pressed in passed firm muscle until seated down to the palms of Jim's hands. Jim's tongue followed and between tongue and thumbs Blair was slowly opened fully wide.
Blair, normally the most erudite of men, was being reduced to a puddle of incoherent goo as Jim probed Blair's anus with his thumbs and tongue, twisting, trusting, loosening the channel until Jim judged Blair ready to take his girth.
"Fuck me, Jim, fuck me now," Blair finally pleaded, "I'm so close, babe."
Needing no further encouragement, though still intending to hold out on instant gratification, Jim rose up in one smooth motion and positioned the crown of his penis on Blair's opening and then maddeningly sat perfectly still. The sight of his dick nestled in the cleft of Blair's butt was a major turn-on for the older man made all the more erotic because he could literally see the minute twitches his penis made as more blood flowed into the erectile tissue. Luckily, the heat from Blair skin where it touched the glans added enough to the sensory feast to prevent Jim falling into a zone-out.
Blair, his own cock-hot, heavy and trapped beneath him-tried to push back against Jim but the older man used his superior weight to advantage keeping Blair trapped beneath him. "Please," Blair whimpered when it became obvious that Jim intended to hold out as long as possible. "Fuck me, fill me, nail me, just F-"
One smooth thrust was all it took. Jim cried out in pleasure as first the glans, the sulcus and then his shaft proper penetrated the tight opening until he was buried balls deep in Blair. "So tight, so tight, gods," Jim almost screamed as he started pounding into his partner.
"Ahhhh," Blair, coherency lost in pleasure, pushed back, clenching his buttocks together, tightening his hold on Jim's cock as it brushed his prostate.
Hard, fast, deep; the two men momentarily settled into a rhythm before the overwhelming need to race to completion broke their control. Blair, trapped beneath his partner, screamed in ecstasy as combination of Jim buried deep and the rasp of fine cotton over his glans caused him to orgasm so deeply that he blacked out. Jim, the scent of Blair's semen as it pooled under his partner, thrust one final time riding out his orgasm before he collapsed on his partner; sated but unwilling to withdraw.
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Gibbs wandered back into the dining room after paying the check to see Tony bagging up the left-over-what little there was of it- tiramisu. "Still hungry, DiNozzo?" Gibbs was trying to work out where the younger man could fit any more food given the sizeable meal they'd just eaten. Still, the view as Tony bent over the table to retrieve the half piece that Abby hadn't eaten was worth enjoying, "Have you got hollow legs?"
"Hey, you think looking this good is easy?" Tony turned-fingers in mouth as licked coffee and chocolate flavored cream from their tips-to face Gibbs, "It takes a lot of fuel to keep this precision machine going."
"Yeah, BS," Gibbs couldn't help but sass back enjoying a level of camaraderie that he hadn't noticed he'd missed. "Come on, early start tomorrow."
Gibbs headed out to where he'd parked assuming that Tony would follow; a mistake it seemed as rule #8 jumped up and bit him. When Tony hadn't appeared after 10 minutes Gibbs went looking for him, finding him in Alfredo's kitchen.
"Grazie, che è stato il migliore pizza che ho avuto in età," Tony was smiling at Papa Freddo, "E il tiramisù, brillante."#2
"Such a lovely boy," Mama Freddo intercepted Gibbs before he made a scene. "You will bring him back here, of course? Here, take some more home," Mama handed Gibbs an uncut tray of the dessert, "maybe you can fatten him up." With anyone else, and that included Abby, the gentle pat to the cheek would have resulted in Gibbs demomnstrating why he'd been feared in the corp, but upsetting Mama Freddo would have landed Gibbs in the Artic till hell froze over. Too many of his collegues, himself included, survived on Alfredo's when cases got to the point that getting home didn't happen.
"Sì, mamma, io lo riporterà,#3" Gibbs pressed a kiss to the woman's cheek before he turned and faced flirting Italian, "Now, DiNozzo." The tone brooked no arguement.
"Coming, Boss," DiNozzo smiled at the staff, again, before this time dutifully following Gibbs out to the car.
"So, what now?" Tony asked as he slid into the passenger seat and pre-emptively grabbed the panic handle-a good move given the rate that Gibbs peeled out into the traffic.
"Boat, burboun and basement." Gibbs' answer was sucinct and uninfomative.
"And?"
"Catching this son of a bitch."
"That I can get behind." Tony sat silent as he as he arrranged, and rearranged, the jigsaw puzzle of information in his head that they had so far. "What does killing the ex-spouses of ex-service personal get our killer? It doesn't make any sense."
"Did any of them re-up?" Gibbs swung the sedan into his driveway.
"Not that I noticed, but then there's almost nothing in the case files I read about the ex-spouces. I mean, we've only got Sandburg's word that they're important. The original investigating officers probably didn't see the need for much follow up once the alibis had checked out."
"Another thing to do tomorrow then." Gibbs led the way inside and after storing his weapon, and allowing Tony to place his peice in the weapon's safe as well, headed for the kitchen and, as Tony was starting to realize, the inevitable lure of another cup of coffee.
Will coffee brewed Tony took the oppurtunity to look around Gibbs' place. Last night they'd arrived back at Gobbs'so late that all Tony had seen so far was the guest room, the kitchen, lounge, bathroom and the head; even most of that had been cursory at best as Tony had collapsed after the shortest shower he'd had since Military school. "Hey, where's the TV?"
"In the basement."
"Okay, that explains the basement comment." Tony popped his head back intot he kitchen where Gibbs was pouring a cup of coffee so black that Tony almost felt in danger of being dragged into it's gravitational vortex. "Why is your TV in the basement?"
"Cause that's where the boat is."
"This I've got to see," Tony spun and headed down the short corridor to the door he assumed led down to the basement. Incredulous, Tony wasn't sure what shocked him more, the fact that it appeared Gibbs had a boat-or something that might eventually be a boat-in the basement or the vintage TV that sat in the middle of a large work bench. "That's not a TV," was all Tony could say when he finally found his voice.
"It's good enough for the weather channel and the news," Gibbs brushed passed Tony as he decended into his work area. Placing the now half-full coffee mug down next to said idiot box Gibbs grabbed a couple of mason jars, "Burboun?"
"Boat, burboun and basement, I get it." Tony took the offered jar and knocked back a hefty swallow, "Damn, it's like the bat-cave down here."
"So, does that make you Robin?" Gibbs grinned as he switched the TV on. The grin melted faster than an icecube in a blast furnace however as the late night headlines announced-
"And in breaking news sources inside the Baltimore police department say that they are close to making an arrest after viewing security footage provided by the MTA."
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#1: I've taken a little liberty with San Diego Naval Training Center's closure to fit my story. The NTC actually closed 1997 but I need it open a bit longer for those who might pick up the faux pas.
#2: Thank you, that was the best pizza I've had in ages…And the tiramisu, brilliant.
#3: Yes, Mamma Freddo, I will bring him back
If you liked please let my know. Positive Critique postively welcome.
Pairing: Jim/Blair: Established relationship. Jim/Gibbs: Past Relationship. Gibbs/DiNozzo pre-slash.
Summary: An NCIS agent, a Baltimore detective, a Sentinel, a Guide, a serial killer. What more do you need?
Chapter Summary: Case details & M/M loving. :D.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations from the TV-shows "NCIS" and "The Sentinel". NCIS is created and owned by David P. Bellisarius and CBS. The Sentinel still belongs to Paramount and Pet Fly. I'm just playing… No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Beta'd by: by Annie... Any mistakes left are mine and somewhat deliberate.
For: Ree/Triskellion... she knows why and thanks again
Chapter One. / Chapter Two. / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five / Chapter Six / Chapter Seven / Chapter Eight. / Chapter Nine. / Chapter Ten Revised / Chapter Eleven / Chapter Twelve (a) / Chapter Twelve (b) / Chapter Thirteen
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"Gibbs," Blair spoke as the NCIS agent turned to leave the room, "could you ask Ducky to come up before you leave?"
Gibbs stopped short at the door. The plan had been to ask Abby and Ducky to join them before Tony bounced in with his news. Now might be a good time to get everyone up to speed even if only because Abby could fast track some of the information searches they'd need. "I'll call in Abby as well."
Blair smiled at the apparent attempt to exert control but didn't say anything. Jim and Tony, also wisely remained silent.
Calls were made but there was little, or no time to digest the new information before Abby came bouncing into the conference room. "Hey, Bossman, where's my Caf-Pow?"
"Have you done anything to deserve it?" Gibbs deadpanned as he pressed a chaste kiss on her cheek.
Abby ignored the kiss and pirouetted on the spot until she was facing Gibbs; the glare in the young woman's eye was something to behold.
"Ooh, looks like somebody's in trouble," Tony stage-whispered to Blair, "I reminded Gibbs earlier that he was supposed to take Abby a Caf-Pow, whatever that is."
"Maybe he's getting a little forgetful in his old age," Blair stage-whispered back, "Jim's always forgetting things too."
"If you two are quite finished?" Gibbs turned his formidable gaze on the comedians in the back.
Tony and Blair shared a look that screamed busted but neither man appeared cowed. Given that three sets of eyes were glaring at them: Gibbs’, Abby’s, and Jim’s, it was quite a feat.
"I've pulled together a complete shoe-print for both left and right shoes." Abby started to enumerate all the things she'd done to deserve the yet-to-be-provided Caf-Pow. "I've identified the make and size of the shoes; they're Bates DuraShocks size 9 and while normally common enough, these shoes belong to someone in the Navy."
"And you can tell this by?" Tony looked up from where he was taking notes on everything Abby said.
"Bates has a contract with the Navy to supply boots and shoes; the tread mould is slightly different than the mould for their commercial range. Our killer was definitely wearing Navy boots," she added, with a smug grin.
"And," Gibbs prompted.
"Isn't that enough, bossman?" Abby sighed. "No, of course not. Did anyone tell you that you're greedy, Gibbs? I've also got a partial set of finger prints from one of the coffee cups and they don't match either Kirby or Williams."
"Abbs-"
Whatever comments Gibbs had been about to make were cut short as Ducky walked in. "Are you gentlemen going to eat at all this evening?"
"Evening?" Blair and Tony shared a look that was made all the more comical by the sound of stomachs rumbling in stereo.
"Boss!" Abby turned a glare at Gibbs. "Haven't you fed them yet?"
"We had lunch," Gibbs protested. But his argument was somewhat invalidated when his stomach also growled in sympathy.
"Lunch was seven hours ago, Jethro," Ducky commented before Abby could work up a head of steam. "I thought that was why you called?" Ducky continued with a stern look at Gibbs. Ducky was dressed as you'd expect for someone leaving at the end of a day's work - coat, hat, and briefcase all present. "I was going to ask if Blair and Jim would like to join me for dinner."
"Actually," Blair started collecting together a pile of notes, "that sounds like a great idea. You don't mind if I pick your brains while we're at it?"
"Why, certainly," Ducky smiled at his son, "I take it that's why Jethro called me up? So that you could pick my brains?"
"Busted," Gibbs admitted.
"Well then, I suggest we repair to somewhere to eat before those two young gentlemen collapse. As well as two somewhat geriatric individuals." Ducky nodded his head at Tony and Blair. Abby gave him the look. "Of course our resident tech wizard must come along. Alfredo's is rather used to strange dinner table conversation." Ducky mentioned the local Italian restaurant that was favored by many who worked at the Yard.
"Pizza," Tony sighed.
"Great pizza, and they make a tiramisu to die for." Abby pulled her cell out of her pocket and was dialing before anyone, even Gibbs, had a chance to object.
"You have a pizza restaurant on speed dial?" Jim grinned as he noticed that Alfredo's was number five on Abby's speed dial. "They must be good."
"A table for six, Marko, and warn Papa that we'll be needing extra tiramisu." Abby disconnected the call and turned to face Jim. "They're the best."
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Alfredo's lived up to expectations; the atmosphere was light, the service quick and unobtrusive, and the food was tasty, plentiful, and passed Sentinel inspection. Tony had knocked off, by himself, an extra large sized sausage, pepperoni, extra cheese, leading to comments, and comparisons, about bottomless pits: Tony and Blair studiously ignoring all and sundry comments to concentrate on eating. Papa Freddo had led the group to a small dining room off to the side of the main restaurant when they'd arrived, which meant that the dinner table conversation was able to roam freely over the topics of death, destruction, and the more macabre cases that had been investigated by members of the group without disturbing the appetites of the other diners. In the end it was Jim and Blair who won the unspoken competition; a case involving twin assassins, a corpse in a wheelchair, and a feisty DA taking the prize. With coffee, and the promised tiramisu, being dispersed around the table the conversation drifted back, by unspoken mutual agreement, to the current case.
"So, where do we stand?" Gibbs tapped his glass once, gaining everyone's attention.
"I still haven't finished the preliminaries on all the evidence you bought back, Gibbs." Abby didn't look happy admitting that fact.
"Why not?" Gibbs wasn't too happy to hear that, either. Normally, given the relatively small number of items, Abby could be relied upon to have completed the preliminary investigation.
"Some of the samples I'm not touching until I have Jim down in the lab with me."
Gibbs turned to look at Ellison with a look that screamed and why weren't you helping my forensic scientist?
"Knock it off, Gibbs." Blair stepped into the fray. "Jim's found you evidence today that you wouldn't have but for him, but his concentration’s shot. Some of those samples are going to be one-shots; one chance to get a result. I'm sure you don't want to lose any information, even if it won't be of probative value in court, just because Jim's tired."
"What's the use of collecting those samples then if they aren't of probative value?" Tony wasn't quite used to working this closely with forensics. Normally he sent samples down and results came back.
"Because while they may not be of probative value, they are still going to be of investigative value." Blair had been expecting he'd have to give the lecture on handling Sentinel-found evidence sooner or later so now seemed as good a time as any. "I'm sure you've had samples in the past that you’ve known are crucial to identifying, or excluding, possible perpetrators but for a variety of reasons cannot be used in court. We don't ignore them, but we can't afford to waste them either. In Jim's case this happens a lot more often than the norm mainly because Jim can find types of evidence that is considered too novel by the courts in general. Very much like the early days of DNA profiling."
"So…" Tony looked a little confused, after all DNA was now becoming almost standard; if you had biological fluids or materials-such as hair, bone or other tissue sample-that might show contact between victim and suspect you passed it on for DNA testing.
"Well, for instance, the fibers Jim found will hold the killers scent. Tomorrow, when Jim's rested, we'll get him to have a good sniff and fix that scent in his head. Later, when we interview possible suspects, Jim can compare their smell to that on the fibers."
"You can actually do that? Human scent detection?" Abby was nearly jumping up and down with glee at the possibilities.
"Jim can." Blair proudly gazed at his partner, "Better than a bloodhound, but we haven't published any results yet because it's not something that can be of general forensic use. I'm planning a paper on the use of scent as a forensic tool that might get the wider forensic community interested. Maybe, one day, human scent detection will be just another tool in the forensic scientist's toolbox but for the moment the only scent work accepted by the courts involves the drug dogs."
"But you do have some research, right?" Abby, with a history of publishing articles, cottoned on to the fact that Blair must already have researched the issue otherwise he wouldn't even be discussing it.
"Preliminary results only. The wine industry provided a basis for the thesis that people can distinguish unique scents, but extending identification of grape variety to human forensic work will require a lot more research."
"What use then is scent detection going to be in catching my killer?" Gibbs wasn't interested in esoteric research topics.
"Plenty." Blair flashed a grin at Jim, "Jim, here, has a perfect recall for scents, and while human scent detection is something that currently won't pass the generally accepted by scientific community test that is applied whenever a new or novel technique is utilized in court, it doesn't mean we can't use his ability to narrow our suspect pool-"
"Hey, back on target," Gibbs snapped as it was obvious to all and sundry that Abby and Blair could end up going on for hours about the possibilities inherent in a new tool.
Abby shot a pout at Gibbs. "Yes, Bossman. All the samples are logged in and if I can have Jim tomorrow morning-"
"You'll have him." Gibbs tone brooked no argument.
"And an extra large Caf-Pow?" Abby let loose with a poor lost puppy look at Gibbs.
"Yes, a large Caf-Pow," Gibbs grumbled though the tone indicated fondness rather than exasperation. Abby pouted some more. "OK, OK, extra large."
"Ducky," Blair turned to face the medical examiner while pulling a stack of manila folders out of the ever-present backpack, "would you mind having a look over these? I'm beginning to think we haven't found our first homicide yet." Blair indicated one folder, "I think this one might be the second or third of them. I'd like a fresh set of eyes have a look over the files though in case I missed something."
"Gladly, though I doubt you will have missed much," Ducky reassured as he took the offered pile and began to flip through the pages. Ducky seemed more than a little impressed at the amount of information Blair had been able to put together in such a short period of time. "What am I looking for?"
"I'd rather wait till you've looked those over, Ducky. I'd like your fresh opinions."
"Duck?" Gibbs looked at the pile of folders in dismay; no way was the ME going to be able to assess the content quickly.
"Festina lente, Gibbs."
"Gibbs." Blair pulled the NCIS agent’s attention back to him. "We have one advantage here which makes festina lente the right way to go about things. Our killer requires a specific set of circumstances. Without them he's not triggered to kill. Taking a little time now to get profile right isn't going to hurt. I don't think someone's going to die tonight if we don't have all the answers."
"But you don't know," Gibbs pushed.
"No, I don't, but my instinct says no."
"I'd trust Blair on this, Gibbs," Jim finally spoke up, "Now, how about we divide up the people on the list Tony provided, and while Ducky looks over Blair's notes, we do the backgrounds?"
"Who's running this investigation?" Gibbs' didn't look pleased but couldn't really fault Jim as the suggestion was one it was the logical next step. Gibbs looked even less pleased when Jim, Tony, and Abby all answered, "Blair!"
"Regardless of who is running the investigation I might suggest a good night's sleep is in order." Ducky spoke before Gibbs had a chance to react. "I'm not as young as I used to be, you know, though I do remember a time-"
"You're only as young as you feel, Duckman." Abby reached over and patted Ducky's arm, effectively heading off at the pass another long, though likely to be pointed in interesting direction, tale. "But I really do need to get some sleep and there's a comfy coffin with my name on it waiting at home."
Coffin! Tony, Jim, and Blair didn't need to say anything as they shared between themselves similar looks of incredulity.
"Is it big enough for two?" Tony couldn't pass up the opportunity to tweak the gothically dressed scientist.
"Absolutely," Abby smiled back at the Baltimore detective, "though you won't be trying it out in the near future."
"What about the far future?" Tony's smile was just on the wrong side of salacious; a fact which earned him a quick clip over the ear.
"Focus. Back at the Yard at oh 600," Gibbs pulled out the NCIS credit card and went to pay the bill while the rest of the circus sorted itself out: Abby heading to her roadster; Ducky to the Morgan and home with a pile of folders; Blair and Jim back to the Westin, and Tony waiting for Gibbs to return so that he could spend another night at Casa Gibbs.
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Ducky sat in the spacious downstairs parlor-come-office of his property in Reston, VA. A glass of Glenrothe's 32 Year Old-Single Malt Scotch sat, mostly ignored, on the sideboard as he flicked through the pile of folders Blair had handed him at Alfredo's. The ME smiled at the detailed and meticulous notes that had been written. Blair Sandburg, anthropologist, had long been admired by Ducky for his insightful work, now that insight was directed elsewhere but none the less still insightful. The kicker, however, remained that Blair Sandburg was also his son and so in reading these notes Ducky also had a chance to get to know the man behind that public face.
Having read through the case files once without ignoring the notations Blair had made to get a feel for the information contained therein, Ducky finally settled down to deeply read the files. Blair had annotated most of the files in purple; Ducky chose green as his annotation color.
Blair had provided an additional folder apart from the case files themselves; this folder contained an ordered list of the cases that Blair thought significant with the first case occurring November 5th 1999 in San Diego. What was worrying was the fact that Blair believed that case was not the first in the series, though it might have been the event that triggered an evolution in the killer's MO. If Blair was correct, then the earlier cases they had yet to identify would likely resemble this homicide. Further notes included the fact that Blair believed that they'd need to look closely at any unsolved homicides from San Diego with extra care given the city's role in Naval training over the years. The fact that the San Diego Naval Training Center had finally ceased all activity that year seemed significant. #1
Given what he knew of Blair Sandburg the forensic profiler, Ducky chose to accept Blair's assessment that these cases were all part of the overall series of homicides. Whereas Blair would have initially been reading the cases files as he came too him-effectively unordered-Ducky opted to read them in date order in an attempt to develop a feel for the evolving MO of their killer.
At first glance there was nothing in the case details for the November 5th homicide to indicate what it was that had caught Blair's eye and made him think this case was part of their serial. In this case the house had been broken into, there was some evidence of a struggle, and only single gunshot wound; almost a polar opposite of the killer's current MO. It was only on reading the case file a second time that Ducky spotted the detail that must have triggered Blair's radar: a notation that the victim had organized to take the day he'd been killed off to reorganize some personal details pertaining to his previous employment in the Navy. It seemed that John Kwan, ex-master sergeant, DI in EOD at San Diego NTC, had retired to be near his ailing ex-wife who had been recently diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer. Blair had annotated the file with: DI resigned 1998 mid-training as ex-wife was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Someone from Naval Personnel office? Why wasn't appointment angle followed up?
Good questions, all, and Ducky couldn't find anything in the case notes that addressed those questions. Instead, additional information indicated the victim had survived the initial contact with their killer, but was later pronounce DOA on arrival at UC San Diego Emergency. A neighbor had heard the gunshot and had immediately called 911, which explained why the police and ambulance had arrived precipitously though not quickly enough to save John Kwan's life. The Uniform that had ridden in the bus with Kwan noted that the man had said nothing before being pronounced dead. This is possibly the second or third homicide. This is the genesis homicide for the killer's subsequent pattern. Ducky agreed with those notations.
Next in the pile was the first of the Boston homicides that Anthony had alluded to. Getting up and retrieving his scotch, Ducky spared a moment of two to consider the Baltimore homicide detective. Given Gibbs' obvious interest, at least to Ducky, in the young man, Ducky had taken the time to look up a bit about Anthony DiNozzo Junior; after all they were basically investigating a serial homicide on the strength of this man's gut. What Ducky had found was that Anthony changed jobs with frightening regularity, yet was highly successful during his tenure at each of the precincts he'd worked. The man was known for having an eye for detail and almost perfect recall, which possibly explained how he'd twigged to the current series; either way Anthony would be a good fit at NCIS.
Of the two Boston homicides that they had case files for, the first was rather light on details. The victim, female this time, Jean Turnky, had been shot twice in the head. She was a recent divorcee with an amicable relationship with her ex. She was newly arrived in Boston having moved there following her new fiancé and as a result had no local enemies, or even general associates that might have wished her dead living in the area. The Turnky homicide had eventually been put in the cold case pile as none of the usual suspects had panned out and there it remained. Boston PD could not be faulted though; the detective in charge had done his due diligence but between the change in MO and the fact that the Kwan and Turnky homicide had occurred in different jurisdictions, made connecting to two almost impossible. In point of fact the only similarity between the two, and that was discovered in hindsight, was the motivation appeared to remain constant; namely, according to Blair's notes in the side margins, punishment for causing an armed forced trainer to resign their position.
The second Boston homicide case file was more detailed but again remained unsolved. The victim, Maria Vengas, this time was a long time resident of Boston although she was planning on moving to Santa Fe with her fiancé. Like the Turnky homicide, Maria had an ex in the services. Maria's ex was also ruled out as a person of interest, though it was noted in follow up that Maria's ex ended up remaining in Boston since he'd apparently accepted a consulting position in Phoenix. The ex, an expert in military intelligence, was normally provided additional training in insurgent detection to special ops teams about to be sent into Afghanistan and Iran. The move to Phoenix would have ended that relationship with the Marine Corp.
Considering the Turnky and Vengas homicides punishment as a motivation made a lot of sense. Ducky agreed with Blair in that sexual need was not the driving force but at least there appeared to be a motive, however bizarre it might seem to them on the outside. The upside of determining the killer's motivation unfortunately led Ducky to a place he wasn't happy given his knowledge of Gibbs and the way Gibbs thought. Their killer wasn't striking at random and Gibbs would not want to risk another member of the armed Services suffering any form of loss if he could prevent it. Gibbs was going to suggest baiting a trap the moment the killer's motivation was made clear to him.
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"You realize that Gibbs is going to offer himself up as bait?" Jim commented from the couch where he was watching the JAGs game on ESN while he'd listened to Blair outline what he thought the serial killer's motive was.
Blair, working at the notes-covered desk in their suite, glanced over at his partner with a look that communicated that he was fully aware of that fact.
"Just warning you," Jim got up and sauntered over to stand behind Blair; to stand really close behind Blair.
"Is that a gun in your pocket, Jim? Blair acknowledged as he leaned back into the hardness that was pressing into the back of his neck, "Or are you just horny?"
"Guess."
"Then in that case I'd better get me bullet proof jacket out otherwise I won't be safe working here," Blair sassed just before he was bodily lifted from the chair and dragged into the bedroom. "Jim-"
"The notes will still be there in the morning and don't think I didn't notice the tension headache you're developing," Jim ignored Blair's protests as dumped his lover in the middle of the king-sized bed.
"Damn over-protective Sentinels," Blair glared at Jim to no avail.
"I can think of two ways to rid you of that headache," Jim smiled sweetly as he started to peel off the pristine white button-down he was wearing. "One involves Tylenol and the other involves a full body massage; your choice, Chief." The grin Jim shot at Blair was entirely too smug as though there was only one choice; the fact that there really was only one choice didn't help.
Actually acknowledging the headache might have been a bad move Blair's part however as moments later the rest of his body decided to make its displeasure known, too. Stiff neck, aching shoulders, a twinge in the lower lumbar, all conspiring to remind Blair that he was no longer 25. Further, nearly two weeks without the time to fit in at least one yoga session was no longer a good idea either. Still, rather than say anything which would have given Jim reason to become even smugger, were it possible, Blair quickly stripped and positioned himself in the middle of the bed, face down with his head resting on crossed arms.
Jim watched as Blair stripped, savoring every moment. How Blair could make taking off a pair of shoes erotic was one of those secrets of the universe that man was never intended to understand but over the years Jim had developed something of a foot fetish; a fetish for Blair's feet in particular. Blair's feet, once the other man had finally rid himself of his socks, were compact and solid like Blair. The big toe on Blair's left foot was slightly bent, a lingering reminder of a chase gone bad that had resulted in a broken toe for Blair and a righteous shoot for Jim.
Blair, well aware of his partner's fixation, clenched and relaxed his feet a few times working the soreness out while enjoying the sight of Jim standing at the end of the bed with a raging erection pointed in his direction. With shoes and socks taken care of Blair began to peel off the layer, after layer, of clothing that covering his torso; regardless of the weather Blair was always careful to remain rugged up as he was prone to chest infections; the legacy of Alex Barnes and his drowning death. First to come off was a deep blue merino-wool jumper. The jumper one of his favorites as Jim often commented that the color really brought out the blue of his eyes; next off, a white button down, and finally a white Henley.
Jim's eyes happily followed the hem of the Henley as it rode up over tight abdominal muscles, across a chest covered with luxurious brown curls-and wasn't Jim glad Blair wasn't one to be ashamed of his body hair-and eventually up along a glorious neckline to eventually reveal Blair's Adam's apple just asking to be nibbled and that face that would have made Botticelli's angels weep.
Blair, never one to pass up a chance to be ogled, leaned back while stretching his arms up over his head. The crack of his shoulder blade's as Blair stretch was loud enough that Blair winced in sympathy with Jim who would have hears the sound echo though his senses. "Like what you see?"
"Yes," Jim licked his lips then flicked his gaze down at the trousers that Blair was still wearing. "Are those going anywhere soon?"
"If they weren't?" Blair liked playing with fire.
"Then I'd have to help them on their way," Jim leaned forward resting his palms on the end of the bed, a very predatory smile on his face.
Blair might have liked to play with fire but these were his favorite dress pants and, remembering what had happened the last time Jim had looked at him with level of intensity, discretion was definitely the better part of keeping his pants intact.
"Commando, I like it," Jim's grin got larger as Blair's pants hit the floor.
"Really, I never would have guessed." Blair finally lay down, spread out like a feast.
Jim spent a good few minutes just watching as pre-cum began to seep from the tip of Blair's erection. Licking his lips at the thought of tasting that nectar Jim leaned forward and flicked his tongue out like a snake to capture the bead of moisture. Smiling evilly Jim stood and while instructing Blair to turn over he went and retrieved the massage oil, and a couple of hot towels, from the en-suite.
Blair complied though his dick wasn't all that happy about being ignored; one lick was not enough to satisfy. Still, the simple act of stretching had illustrated how tied up on knots his back was and while Blair would have liked nothing more than to be nailed to the mattress he'd enjoy it even more after a Jim special massage eased the tension out of his back.
Jim returned and draped warmed towels over Blair's legs and buttocks before he straddled his lover and poured almond oil over Blair's shoulder blades. Using slow, sensuous strokes, Jim began to work out the tension in Blair's shoulders. Using the highly sensitive pads of his finger tips Jim was able to identify the minutest locking of muscle or tendons in Blair's back; gentle pressure from talented thumbs slowly teasing out knots. As Blair relaxed further under his ministrations Jim added a sweeping strike of hands up along Blair's neck with his fingers splayed to comb through dark locks of hair.
"Keep that up and I'm going to fall asleep here," Blair murmured.
While getting Blair to sleep was the eventual endgame of Jim's current activity there were other more entertaining activities to be completed first. Leaning forward Jim began to nip and nibble at the nape of Blair's neck. Blair, arching his neck up and to the side exposed more of his neck to Jim's ministrations. An action Jim heartily approved of as it allowed easier access to one of Blair major hot-spots; the small area of skin behind the earlobe and the earlobe itself. Jim could happily spend hours just using his teeth and tongue to worry at large sapphire stud that adorned Blair's left ear. The stud-a present commemorating the first anniversary of their commitment never let Blair's ear-voluntarily at least; the staff at Cascade General Hospital even had it mentioned in their protocol sheets which unfortunately spoke of how often Blair and/or Jim ended up in the care of that group of professionals.
As Blair began to whimper Jim eased off on teasing the ear lobe. Settling back on his haunches, allowing his hardness to rest atop the towel that covered Blair's behind, Jim returned to massaging Blair's shoulders though he now extended his ministrations downward working the tension out of the muscles supporting ribs and spine. Judging Blair's back relaxed enough that the rest of the evenings activities would remain enjoyable rather than be ruined by an inadvertent spasm Jim peeled the now-cooling towel from Blair's buttocks.
"Gods," Jim sighed, "you are beautiful." If Blair had had the energy to turn his head he'd have seen a look of pure adoration on Jim's countenance as the Sentinel gazed at two mounds of perfection that protected a deep valley and a hidden treasure. Almost without the direction of conscious thought Jim's hands began to fondle and massage Blair's buttocks. Sliding his body downward between Blair's legs, Jim breathed deeply in the scent of musk and sex that was forming as pre-cum continued to leak from the erections of both men.
"I've got to taste you," Jim groaned, "Please, can I taste you."
"Yes, yes, yes," Blair started to whimper even louder as Jim finally pressed his face into cradle formed by buttocks and thighs to protect the anal entrance. Jim's tongue, of its own accord, darted forward to lick and probe the ring of muscle that was Blair's entrance. Tastes, earthy and dank exploded on Jim's tongue. The heady smell released causing Jim to push his tongue deeper into that recess. Wanting deeper access Jim used his hands to spread Blair's buttocks further apart while his thumbs, still coated with oil, were gentle pressed in passed firm muscle until seated down to the palms of Jim's hands. Jim's tongue followed and between tongue and thumbs Blair was slowly opened fully wide.
Blair, normally the most erudite of men, was being reduced to a puddle of incoherent goo as Jim probed Blair's anus with his thumbs and tongue, twisting, trusting, loosening the channel until Jim judged Blair ready to take his girth.
"Fuck me, Jim, fuck me now," Blair finally pleaded, "I'm so close, babe."
Needing no further encouragement, though still intending to hold out on instant gratification, Jim rose up in one smooth motion and positioned the crown of his penis on Blair's opening and then maddeningly sat perfectly still. The sight of his dick nestled in the cleft of Blair's butt was a major turn-on for the older man made all the more erotic because he could literally see the minute twitches his penis made as more blood flowed into the erectile tissue. Luckily, the heat from Blair skin where it touched the glans added enough to the sensory feast to prevent Jim falling into a zone-out.
Blair, his own cock-hot, heavy and trapped beneath him-tried to push back against Jim but the older man used his superior weight to advantage keeping Blair trapped beneath him. "Please," Blair whimpered when it became obvious that Jim intended to hold out as long as possible. "Fuck me, fill me, nail me, just F-"
One smooth thrust was all it took. Jim cried out in pleasure as first the glans, the sulcus and then his shaft proper penetrated the tight opening until he was buried balls deep in Blair. "So tight, so tight, gods," Jim almost screamed as he started pounding into his partner.
"Ahhhh," Blair, coherency lost in pleasure, pushed back, clenching his buttocks together, tightening his hold on Jim's cock as it brushed his prostate.
Hard, fast, deep; the two men momentarily settled into a rhythm before the overwhelming need to race to completion broke their control. Blair, trapped beneath his partner, screamed in ecstasy as combination of Jim buried deep and the rasp of fine cotton over his glans caused him to orgasm so deeply that he blacked out. Jim, the scent of Blair's semen as it pooled under his partner, thrust one final time riding out his orgasm before he collapsed on his partner; sated but unwilling to withdraw.
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Gibbs wandered back into the dining room after paying the check to see Tony bagging up the left-over-what little there was of it- tiramisu. "Still hungry, DiNozzo?" Gibbs was trying to work out where the younger man could fit any more food given the sizeable meal they'd just eaten. Still, the view as Tony bent over the table to retrieve the half piece that Abby hadn't eaten was worth enjoying, "Have you got hollow legs?"
"Hey, you think looking this good is easy?" Tony turned-fingers in mouth as licked coffee and chocolate flavored cream from their tips-to face Gibbs, "It takes a lot of fuel to keep this precision machine going."
"Yeah, BS," Gibbs couldn't help but sass back enjoying a level of camaraderie that he hadn't noticed he'd missed. "Come on, early start tomorrow."
Gibbs headed out to where he'd parked assuming that Tony would follow; a mistake it seemed as rule #8 jumped up and bit him. When Tony hadn't appeared after 10 minutes Gibbs went looking for him, finding him in Alfredo's kitchen.
"Grazie, che è stato il migliore pizza che ho avuto in età," Tony was smiling at Papa Freddo, "E il tiramisù, brillante."#2
"Such a lovely boy," Mama Freddo intercepted Gibbs before he made a scene. "You will bring him back here, of course? Here, take some more home," Mama handed Gibbs an uncut tray of the dessert, "maybe you can fatten him up." With anyone else, and that included Abby, the gentle pat to the cheek would have resulted in Gibbs demomnstrating why he'd been feared in the corp, but upsetting Mama Freddo would have landed Gibbs in the Artic till hell froze over. Too many of his collegues, himself included, survived on Alfredo's when cases got to the point that getting home didn't happen.
"Sì, mamma, io lo riporterà,#3" Gibbs pressed a kiss to the woman's cheek before he turned and faced flirting Italian, "Now, DiNozzo." The tone brooked no arguement.
"Coming, Boss," DiNozzo smiled at the staff, again, before this time dutifully following Gibbs out to the car.
"So, what now?" Tony asked as he slid into the passenger seat and pre-emptively grabbed the panic handle-a good move given the rate that Gibbs peeled out into the traffic.
"Boat, burboun and basement." Gibbs' answer was sucinct and uninfomative.
"And?"
"Catching this son of a bitch."
"That I can get behind." Tony sat silent as he as he arrranged, and rearranged, the jigsaw puzzle of information in his head that they had so far. "What does killing the ex-spouses of ex-service personal get our killer? It doesn't make any sense."
"Did any of them re-up?" Gibbs swung the sedan into his driveway.
"Not that I noticed, but then there's almost nothing in the case files I read about the ex-spouces. I mean, we've only got Sandburg's word that they're important. The original investigating officers probably didn't see the need for much follow up once the alibis had checked out."
"Another thing to do tomorrow then." Gibbs led the way inside and after storing his weapon, and allowing Tony to place his peice in the weapon's safe as well, headed for the kitchen and, as Tony was starting to realize, the inevitable lure of another cup of coffee.
Will coffee brewed Tony took the oppurtunity to look around Gibbs' place. Last night they'd arrived back at Gobbs'so late that all Tony had seen so far was the guest room, the kitchen, lounge, bathroom and the head; even most of that had been cursory at best as Tony had collapsed after the shortest shower he'd had since Military school. "Hey, where's the TV?"
"In the basement."
"Okay, that explains the basement comment." Tony popped his head back intot he kitchen where Gibbs was pouring a cup of coffee so black that Tony almost felt in danger of being dragged into it's gravitational vortex. "Why is your TV in the basement?"
"Cause that's where the boat is."
"This I've got to see," Tony spun and headed down the short corridor to the door he assumed led down to the basement. Incredulous, Tony wasn't sure what shocked him more, the fact that it appeared Gibbs had a boat-or something that might eventually be a boat-in the basement or the vintage TV that sat in the middle of a large work bench. "That's not a TV," was all Tony could say when he finally found his voice.
"It's good enough for the weather channel and the news," Gibbs brushed passed Tony as he decended into his work area. Placing the now half-full coffee mug down next to said idiot box Gibbs grabbed a couple of mason jars, "Burboun?"
"Boat, burboun and basement, I get it." Tony took the offered jar and knocked back a hefty swallow, "Damn, it's like the bat-cave down here."
"So, does that make you Robin?" Gibbs grinned as he switched the TV on. The grin melted faster than an icecube in a blast furnace however as the late night headlines announced-
"And in breaking news sources inside the Baltimore police department say that they are close to making an arrest after viewing security footage provided by the MTA."
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#1: I've taken a little liberty with San Diego Naval Training Center's closure to fit my story. The NTC actually closed 1997 but I need it open a bit longer for those who might pick up the faux pas.
#2: Thank you, that was the best pizza I've had in ages…And the tiramisu, brilliant.
#3: Yes, Mamma Freddo, I will bring him back
If you liked please let my know. Positive Critique postively welcome.