Surrender (fanfiction-NCIS)
Title: Surrender
Author: slash4femme
Fandom: NCIS
Pairing/Category: Gibbs/Tim
Rating: R
Warning: umm, Tim and Gibbs' relationship . . . Gibbs having fantasies of being submissive.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, I do not make money off of doing this. The only thing I'm getting out of this is pure unadulterated creative enjoyment and less hours for me to spend doing my real work.
Summary: some days he remembers the way it used to be
Author Note: ubeta'd sorry folks.
Some days he remembers what it was like in beginning. When Tim kissed him hesitantly, like he wasn’t sure what they were doing, hand warm, large and soft on the back of Gibbs’ neck. Back in the days when Gibbs tried not to think about what they were doing too carefully and felt a spike of shame go through him whenever he did. He can remember the way Tim looked underneath him, spread out, naked and pliant. Tim’s eyes were so trusting then, not yet having learned his own limits or how to say no and Gibbs would kiss the soft skin at the base of his throat, feel Tim’s pulse against his lips. Tim’s body was soft, his hands large and pale against Gibbs’ thighs. Tim always kissed him like he meant it, like Gibbs was the most important thing in his life and Gibbs would close his eyes and lean against the younger man’s broad chest and wish that it was a lie. That was before Tim knew how to lie to him though, before Tim knew that he might need to.
Tim’s bedroom was small and still looked like a college student lived there, clothes and books thrown everywhere. Tim was always reading, always studying, and his small apartment was filled with computers that Gibbs was always secretly terrified of breaking. He’d sit on Tim’s beat up couch, and drink weak coffee and Tim would move around him flustered and ill at ease until Gibbs would reach up and catch his wrist. He would pull Tim down until Tim was straddling his lap and Gibbs would kiss him, and try not to think of work where Tim was his youngest most inexperienced agent. Tim would let Gibbs push his MIT t-shirt up and run his hands cross Tim’s chest and belly and unbutton Tim’s jeans and Tim would kiss him back and runs his fingers through Gibbs’ hair.
When Gibbs went home at night he would lie in his own bed and try not to think of work, try not to think of Tim sleeping alone in his little apartment. Instead he’d think of Tim’s hands, large and strong and fast when he worked on the computer. Gibbs would close his eyes and think of Tim straddling his waist, pressing Gibbs’ hands over his head, hard against the bed. In his mind they wouldn’t have sex but Tim would pin Gibbs’ hands with a grip that was hard and controlling. Then Tim would nock Gibbs’ legs open with his knees, kneel between Gibbs’ spread thighs. Tim would kiss his way down through the grey hair on Gibbs’ chest, then pause and grin up at him, that knowing, self-satisfied smiles Gibbs had only ever seen when Tim had figured something important out using a computer. A smile Gibbs had never seen when they where alone, never when they were in bed together. Some of the time it was enough to make him come again, alone in his own bed.
In those days Gibbs would hate himself for even wanting it, and Tim never knew. In those days Tim was the agent Gibbs watched the most, kept closest, kept safe, the youngest agent with the shy smile and innocent eyes. In those days Tim was the team’s probie and Gibbs’ guilty little secret.
These days Tim makes his coffee strong although he still refuses to drink it back. These days Gibbs is used to waking up next to a large warm body every morning and wearing a wedding ring again. Tim goes over the reports from the other agents on the computer forensic team he heads up at the kitchen table, and Gibbs works on his boat. This will be the third he’s finished since they moved into the bigger house, and Tim teases him about getting soft in his retirement and Gibbs will slap Tim up side of the head and sometimes they don’t make it to the bedroom before Tim decide to punish him for it.
These days he only remembers the way it used to be and the way it is now and tries not to think too much about the steps in between. About how Tim learned to lie when he kissed Gibbs, take ground and hold it, how he learned to say no, and to only give trust when it was actually earned. Maybe somewhere along the way he screwed it up, maybe they both did. These days though when he looks at Tim he doesn’t feel guilty anymore.
Author: slash4femme
Fandom: NCIS
Pairing/Category: Gibbs/Tim
Rating: R
Warning: umm, Tim and Gibbs' relationship . . . Gibbs having fantasies of being submissive.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, I do not make money off of doing this. The only thing I'm getting out of this is pure unadulterated creative enjoyment and less hours for me to spend doing my real work.
Summary: some days he remembers the way it used to be
Author Note: ubeta'd sorry folks.
Some days he remembers what it was like in beginning. When Tim kissed him hesitantly, like he wasn’t sure what they were doing, hand warm, large and soft on the back of Gibbs’ neck. Back in the days when Gibbs tried not to think about what they were doing too carefully and felt a spike of shame go through him whenever he did. He can remember the way Tim looked underneath him, spread out, naked and pliant. Tim’s eyes were so trusting then, not yet having learned his own limits or how to say no and Gibbs would kiss the soft skin at the base of his throat, feel Tim’s pulse against his lips. Tim’s body was soft, his hands large and pale against Gibbs’ thighs. Tim always kissed him like he meant it, like Gibbs was the most important thing in his life and Gibbs would close his eyes and lean against the younger man’s broad chest and wish that it was a lie. That was before Tim knew how to lie to him though, before Tim knew that he might need to.
Tim’s bedroom was small and still looked like a college student lived there, clothes and books thrown everywhere. Tim was always reading, always studying, and his small apartment was filled with computers that Gibbs was always secretly terrified of breaking. He’d sit on Tim’s beat up couch, and drink weak coffee and Tim would move around him flustered and ill at ease until Gibbs would reach up and catch his wrist. He would pull Tim down until Tim was straddling his lap and Gibbs would kiss him, and try not to think of work where Tim was his youngest most inexperienced agent. Tim would let Gibbs push his MIT t-shirt up and run his hands cross Tim’s chest and belly and unbutton Tim’s jeans and Tim would kiss him back and runs his fingers through Gibbs’ hair.
When Gibbs went home at night he would lie in his own bed and try not to think of work, try not to think of Tim sleeping alone in his little apartment. Instead he’d think of Tim’s hands, large and strong and fast when he worked on the computer. Gibbs would close his eyes and think of Tim straddling his waist, pressing Gibbs’ hands over his head, hard against the bed. In his mind they wouldn’t have sex but Tim would pin Gibbs’ hands with a grip that was hard and controlling. Then Tim would nock Gibbs’ legs open with his knees, kneel between Gibbs’ spread thighs. Tim would kiss his way down through the grey hair on Gibbs’ chest, then pause and grin up at him, that knowing, self-satisfied smiles Gibbs had only ever seen when Tim had figured something important out using a computer. A smile Gibbs had never seen when they where alone, never when they were in bed together. Some of the time it was enough to make him come again, alone in his own bed.
In those days Gibbs would hate himself for even wanting it, and Tim never knew. In those days Tim was the agent Gibbs watched the most, kept closest, kept safe, the youngest agent with the shy smile and innocent eyes. In those days Tim was the team’s probie and Gibbs’ guilty little secret.
These days Tim makes his coffee strong although he still refuses to drink it back. These days Gibbs is used to waking up next to a large warm body every morning and wearing a wedding ring again. Tim goes over the reports from the other agents on the computer forensic team he heads up at the kitchen table, and Gibbs works on his boat. This will be the third he’s finished since they moved into the bigger house, and Tim teases him about getting soft in his retirement and Gibbs will slap Tim up side of the head and sometimes they don’t make it to the bedroom before Tim decide to punish him for it.
These days he only remembers the way it used to be and the way it is now and tries not to think too much about the steps in between. About how Tim learned to lie when he kissed Gibbs, take ground and hold it, how he learned to say no, and to only give trust when it was actually earned. Maybe somewhere along the way he screwed it up, maybe they both did. These days though when he looks at Tim he doesn’t feel guilty anymore.