Disclaimer: Most of these characters belong to DPB, CBS, Paramount, et al. No copyright infringement intended.


Okay, so I must have screwed up someway but, honestly, I don’t know how. All right, yes, maybe I laughed out loud at the situation…more than once…when I should have kept my humor under wraps and strictly to myself but, hell, how could I not laugh? I mean, there we were, big, bad federal agents busting through the door to that warehouse with adrenaline pumping full force, weapons drawn and sweeping the area for any signs of hostiles, expecting to find a duo of rogue Marines and their stash of illegal contraband, and, instead, were greeted by a couple of horny teenagers getting busy on a nasty-looking, old mattress stuck back in some not-so-secluded corner of an abandoned building. I mean, who wouldn’t laugh at something like that?

Apparently, Gibbs.

I immediately bit the inside of my cheek when he’d turned that laser gaze my way, keeping my chuckles in check as best as I could, but that didn’t stop me from laughing on the inside….and smiling on the outside Oh, hell, no. It was like watching some old Three Stooges reel, with everyone scrambling and bumping and tripping all over themselves in an effort to pretend we just hadn’t seen what we had. Ziva had stared, momentarily startled by the scene, one of those dark eyebrows sweeping up and arching high, before she managed to get her surprise under wraps and move pretty clumsily away. McGeek had done a perfect imitation of a fly catcher, mouth open and wide, eyes like they were ready to pop out, until he’d been able to stumble to one side and pretend he wasn’t looking at all that lovely, bare flesh. Me? I’d just stood there and taken it all in, avidly watching the kids scuttle about, frantically searching for the right clothes, fumbling and blundering on the mattress until they could, at least, cover their crotches. What a riot.

And Gibbs. He’d just given them the cold once-over…and let his eyes move on, immediately dismissing them.

So, we’d had no luck apprehending our suspects but I’d come out of that warehouse with a shit-eating smile firmly on my face and a head full of memories. I couldn’t help if the situation nudged loose some thoughts of my own youthful indiscretions and, even though I’d never done it on some dirty, old mattress stuck somewhere in a deserted warehouse, I’d sure had my share of strange places. Oh, yeah.

The drive back to NCIS headquarters had been all but lost on me. I remember laughing again, once everyone was safely back within the confines of the vehicle and heading toward the office, and I remember Gibbs growling at me for allowing my chuckles to escape, but, after that, it was just a blur of rapidly passing scenery and the sound of tires on the wet pavement. I’d let my mind wander back to the first time I’d ever had real sex and, before I’d realized we’d arrived, everyone was already rolling out of the vehicle and heading into the office.

Except for Gibbs.

He’d waited until I’d eased out on my side, closed the door, and looked at him over the top of the sedan before throwing an extremely grim look my way. Hell, I didn’t know what I’d done to rile him this time and hurriedly tried to recall my actions within the car while traveling back. Had I laughed again? Well, that was a real possibility because there were several humorous memories of that first time encounter. Or had I accidentally made some other noise…perhaps, something erotic? That was a possibility, too, because that first time had been pretty hot for me. Shit, I just didn’t know.

I’d swallowed nervously but managed to ask one question, keeping my eyes steadily on his. “What?”

He’d just growled again, low in his throat, and taken on that ‘you’ll be paying for this later, DiNozzo’ look, walking away and leaving me there to wonder…and worry. It was the look that scared me the most…and made me realize I could already feel him in my ass.

Now, there’s ‘scared’ and there’s ‘scared’ and, when Gibbs growls and turns that heated, blue gaze my way, I can usually tell if he’s really mad and disappointed in me for some reason or if he’s in one of his ‘dangerous’ moods, where just the right push can turn him into a sexual predator. Both can be scary as hell but I’ll take the last one any day. Oh, yeah. Gibbs as a sexual predator is exciting and electrifying and hot as hell. You never know what to expect…or when to expect it, like being in a minefield and hoping the next step won’t take your foot…or your dick…off.

So, here we are now, and I meekly follow him into the building, going through security without a sound, and make my way to my desk as he storms up the stairs toward MTAC, taking the risers two at a time. I want to watch his ass as he climbs, like I usually do, but think better of it, only because I can feel both Ziva and McGee staring blatantly at me the whole time. After stowing my weapon and sitting down, I let my eyes track quickly back and forth between them, open my arms wide, and just sigh irritably.

“What?”

It seems that’s all I’m capable of saying today. First, to Gibbs and, now, to my colleagues.

“Are you out of your mind?” Ziva whispers worriedly, her big, brown eyes huge and wide and entirely too large-looking on her pale face. She shakes her head in a sure sign of exasperation.

“What?” There’s that damn word again but, really, what else can I say? I’m at a loss to understand the reason for her question and have absolutely no idea of how to respond. I look imploringly toward McGee’s position and see the same expression reflected on his youthful face. This is bad. I shake my head and nervously ask the only thing I can under the circumstances. “What?”

He huffs out a quick breath, casts a furtive glance up toward the doorway Gibbs has disappeared through, and gets to his feet, swiftly covering the span between our desks. I can see the outright disbelief on his face.

“You really don’t know what you did?” He queries as he steps close.

“When?” Oh, goodie. My vocabulary seems to be expanding by leaps and bounds.

Ziva is suddenly there, too, and she leans close, hands flat on my desk and arms braced wide. “In the car…on the way back from the warehouse.”

If she’s got a point, it’s lost to me. I look back and forth between them, hoping one of them will elaborate, but nothing else comes…only the twin, continuing, appalled expressions on their shocked faces. I slump back in my seat and close my eyes, ready to take it like a man. What a joke. If I was an animal right now and on the floor, with my belly up and exposed, whining like some dog, that would be more appropriate to how I feel at the moment.

“One of you just better tell me,” I rasp out quietly and wait for the inevitable.

“You were moaning,” McGee hisses under his breath and, if I open my eyes right now, I just bet he’s blushing from the tips of his elf ears all the way to his toes.

“And groaning,” Ziva adds quickly, her own voice barely above a whisper.

“And squirming in the seat,” McGee throws in, just to drive the nail into the coffin.

I have to open my eyes to look…*really* look…at them now and, if they’re lying, I’ll know. I’m a trained investigator, after all.

Well, crap.

They aren’t lying. I am so fucking embarrassed at the moment, I just want the floor to open up and take me into the depths of hell. Anywhere would be better than here, that‘s for sure.

“Why didn’t you just stop when Gibbs told you to shut up?” One of them asks.

Gibbs told me to shut up? Wow…that’s a news flash. Really.

“I…I…” I stutter eloquently.

“What in the world were you thinking?”

This time I recognize McGee’s voice but I can’t honestly answer him. It’s bad enough I had to take that little trip down memory lane while in their company but I had no idea I’d actually started vocalizing my thoughts. Moaning and groaning? And squirming in the seat? How in the hell am I ever going to live this one down?

“DiNozzo!”

Gibbs’ loud, hard bark makes us all jump and both McGee and Ziva immediately go scurrying back to their own areas, eyes instantly falling to some imaginary paperwork as they sit. I can only watch, helplessly impotent, as Gibbs rounds the corner and nears my desk. I’ll never figure out how does he does that stealth mode shit.

“Yeah, Boss?” I manage to rasp out, looking expectantly up into his face. His eyes are strangely hooded and impossible to read but, oh, shit…his nostrils are flaring. This is so not good.

“You’re with me.”

I barely have time to secure my weapon and grab my jacket off the back of my seat before he steps onto the waiting elevator. I stumble a bit as I move past him to take up my place, just to the rear of the small compartment. He doesn’t speak and I have no desire in the world to say anything, so our silence suits me just fine. Hell, what could I possibly say anyway?

We leave the elevator…and the building…and are in his car before I pluck up enough courage to open my mouth. “Where we heading?”

His growl is the only response and I instantly close my mouth. Okay, I can be quiet. Quiet is good. Quiet is my friend.

Like hell…

“Gibbs,” I try again, “cut me some slack here, okay? If you’re pissed at me, I need for you to…”

“Shut up.”

So quick is my reflexive response to his order that my teeth actually clack together when my jaw snaps shut. I want to be mad, feel like I have every right to ask some questions, but his whole demeanor is throwing me for one, huge, baffled loop. I can only stare dumbly at his profile, seeing his strong hands flex repeatedly upon the solid steering wheel, and know instinctively I’m in deep shit.

I tear my eyes away and focus on the scenery, only dimly aware of the passage of time, and watch as the road slowly gives way to a more rural setting. We’ve gone some distance out of the city and are driving the backroads now, the smooth pavement replaced with areas of cracked asphalt and a lot of dirt. I swallow and wonder if he’s planning on a body dump…and quickly decide that’s not funny. See, I’m scared again…and I’m not even thinking about sex now.

When he begins to slow and maneuver the sedan over to the edge of the all-but-deserted road, I can feel my adrenaline start kicking in. My eyes rapidly scan the surrounding area, looking for shelter or safety or anything that can use as a haven. If he’s going to leave me out here…

“Get in the back seat.”

Whaaaat?

I know my mouth is hanging open because I was expecting a ‘get out’ or a ‘get lost’… never a ‘get in the back seat’. I’m confused as hell but, when he leans across to pop open the glove compartment and pulls out a small tube of lube, I’m instantly scrabbling at the seatbelt release and fumbling with the door handle, all but falling out onto the hard-packed dirt when the panel instantaneously swings open under my grip. He doesn’t have to tell me twice…

Just as I open the back door, his voice halts me again. “I want you out of everything but your shirt.”

We’re staring at each other over the top of the vehicle and it’s like some crazy Mexican standoff. Neither of us moves, each waiting for the other to do something, but as usual, I cave first. I can’t help it. He does things to me that gets my blood pounding and my dick hard, in a flash.

So, I’m toeing off my shoes and peeling out of my pants, eyes breaking away from Gibbs only long enough to glance again around the immediate area. It’s secluded as hell here and I have to wonder how Gibbs knows about it…and, then, maybe I don’t want to know.

Once I’m bare, from waist down, I ease onto the back seat, wincing a bit at the unfamiliar slide of exposed body parts against the seat fabric. He’s already there, waiting, and, before I can open my mouth to ask one of the gazillion questions flowing through my mind, he’s pushing me back against the just-closed door, until I’m slumped down and looking up into those flaring nostrils again. Oh, boy…

“Tell me,” he orders roughly.

“What?” Here we go again…Mr. Intelligent opens his mouth and *this* comes out.

“In the car,” he tries to clarify but I can see the lust starting to tinge his vision, “on the way back from the warehouse. Tell me.”

Oh. Now, I get it. He’s referring to my little lapse of control.

“I was just remembering something,” I answer honestly because that’s the only way to survive when Gibbs gets like this. It’s like he can scent out any untruth or deception…through those flaring nostrils. I almost laugh at that visual but manage to hold it back. Laughing is what got me into trouble in the first place and I don‘t think I‘m in the mood for any more of that right now. “Something when I was just a kid.”

“Tell me,” he repeats, more stridently this time, and, as if to convince me of the need to follow his order, Gibbs roughly pushes my shirt up and latches on to one of my nipples. Shit! The sensation of his lips and teeth on my skin sizzles straight to my dick, like there’s some electrical wire connecting the two areas, and I’m hard immediately. I slump a bit more and let my head fall back to thud against the side of the door.

“Um…”I try to get my brain and mouth to work in sync and realize I may have to try a bit harder. “Ah…oh…ughhh…”

It’s no use. This is not going to work, not while he’s got his mouth on my body, but I’m sure not going to tell him to let up. Oh, hell, no. This is too good and, when one of his big hands grabs my aching dick and begins to squeeze, well, language and communication is the last thing on my mind.

I whimper when his mouth leaves my aching nub, thinking he’s going to try to make me start talking, but he’s suddenly in my face, his body almost flat along mine, and he’s biting and licking and sucking at my lips, driving me crazy with his tongue. I open wide and let him in, dimly aware of the sound of my groans, hearing them reflected back within his own rumbling chest. It’s wet and nasty and nothing but pure pleasure and I feel like he’s eating me alive with his passion.

I’m breathless when he finally pulls back but don’t have any time to do anything but pant, especially when he’s grabbing me by both knees and forcing my legs apart. The tube of lube is there, in his capable hands, and he’s looking at me while he slicks up the fingers of his right hand. Oh, God…just kill me now.

“Tell me about when you were a kid.” he orders…and brings that hand to my dick. I jump at the sensation, hoping he’ll start jerking me good, but he merely palms the hot flesh and leers. Crap, I know that look. He’s not going to do anything until I comply to his wishes first. Now, if I can just get my mouth to work…

“I was thinking…about my…first time,” I wheeze out, humping a bit into his palm, hoping he’ll get with the program.

No such luck. He grins like a shark and eases the hand down, rubbing gently over my nuts. Ah, shit…I have to close my eyes. It just feels so damn good.

“What happened?” He asks, one finger nestled right under the sac, teasing the sensitive skin, and setting off fireworks behind my lids.

There’s no way I can ever deny him, especially when he’s wedged between my legs and has his hand on my boys, so I relate that fateful night to him, letting the tale unwind just as it did in my memory only hours earlier. I tell him about being scared and excited, I tell him about the car and the stars and the smells, and I tell him of how we disposed of the nasty condom in the grill when we‘d finished with our encounter. He grunts every now and then but never interrupts my narrative with questions or comments and, when I finish, he slowly pushes one, long finger deeply inside me, filling the breach until he‘s got it all the way in, and is able to caress my nuts with the side of his thumb.

Gah…

My breath hitches at the intense feel. It’s so fucking good. I love when he does shit like this to me.

“Are you scared now?”

W-what? Excuse me?

His voice has dropped to this low, gravelly growl and I have to really listen to what he’s asking me. Am I scared? Why would I be scared? Of him? Well, no…that’s not…that’s…hhmm. Okay, to be honest, sometimes he does scare me a little…in a manly sort of way. It’s just a healthy respect of what I know he’s capable of doing, that’s all. It’s not like in some little, girly way, where I’d run away screaming and yelling and faint or anything. But I’ve seen him in his full ‘Marine mode’, so I know what he could do, especially to someone who’s bare-assed and having their temperature taken anally with one of his questing fingers.

“I’m not afraid of you, Jethro,” I manage to rasp out because even though my brain is still functioning half-way decently, my vocal cords are strung pretty damn tight. Must be that wicked tuning fork in my ass.

He grunts and slides that finger out…and then back in again. Nice and slow and easy. His eyes are watching that finger, observing how it appears and disappears within my body, and I can only wonder what’s playing around in that fertile brain of his. He does it a few more times and then crooks the digit, just right…and I’m suddenly humping into the air. Jackpot! Shit, that feels so good.

“That’s not what I asked,” he explains gruffly, stilling his finger, those killer-blue eyes capturing and holding mine. “I asked if you’re scared *now*. Are you? Right now?”

I want him to just get on with the show but I know how doggedly he can pursue a topic…or a suspect…and, for some unknown reason, I’m suddenly feeling like I fit both categories. I take a deep breath and try to release a bit of my sexual tension but, hell, I may as well be trying to convince Abby that pink is the new black. Just not going to happen today.

“No, I’m not afraid now,” I grit out, somewhat impatiently…

…and I almost miss the flash of something dark within his eyes. Almost. He adds another finger, pushing it in tandem with the first one, keeping his gaze solely on my face. It doesn’t hurt…hell, his dick’s bigger than that…but that flash I saw just a moment ago has me a bit apprehensive.

“How about,” he adds another digit and I’m grunting through the sensation, “now?”

Okay, I *may* be a little concerned now because I don’t know where he’s going with this. I let my eyes drop to where his hand is almost concealed between my spread thighs and notice the backs of his fingers and most of the palm are slick and glistening with a heavy coating of lube, too. In fact, it looks as if there’s lube right up to his wrist. Oh, crap…

“Uh…” I’m trying to communicate here but my rising nervousness is bleeding over and I’m beginning to pant raggedly. I’m not ready for fisting, have never even thought about fisting, and sure as hell haven’t ever discussed it with Gibbs.

A fourth finger joins the others and I’m hissing through the burn. Gibbs is striking and rubbing that happy spot within me, making me arch and twist upon his deep touch, and I’m grabbing at his shoulders, trying to hold on anywhere I possibly can. A thin thread of fear is making this more difficult than it should be because he’s planted that seed of doubt in my mind.

“Gibbs,” I croak out but just can’t seem to get anything else past my lips.

“What?” He asks, eyes ablaze with sheer lust, dropping his mouth to lick away the pre-come beading at the tip of my dick. The hot, wet, rasp of his tongue makes me dizzy with need, and I’m all but begging for more. But he keeps battering away at my defenses. “Are you scared now? Are you?”

I feel like I’m going to cry, torn in two directions at once. Hell, between those talented lips and his tongue bathing and lapping at my aching cock and those damn fingers playing coochie-coo with my prostate, I’m not sure of anything…except I just want to come…badly. My nuts are all drawn up and are locked and loaded, ready for discharge, like a some hair-trigger weapon. All I need is a little more…

When the pressure at the entrance to my ass ratchets up another notch, I’m all but babbling and screaming. It hurts…but it’s a strange, good hurt…and I can feel Gibbs’ mouth sucking hard on my dick. He’s diving that tongue at the slit, tapping at it almost roughly, and I think the stars must have decided to come out early today.

And I suddenly realize I *am* scared…

“Gibbs!” I holler out, grunting and pulling and, maybe, freaking out just a bit.

The pressure at my ass is suddenly gone and Gibbs is there, strong arms wrapping tightly and holding me close, keeping the shattering fragment of my mind from scattering too far. He’s pushing his dick into me, gently filling that empty space, bringing me back to what I know…what I’m accustomed to. I think he wants to be sweet now but that’s not what I want, not after what just transpired. Oh, hell, no. I’m so turned on, I’m fairly burning with need…and he put me here. I want him hard and fast and rough. And I want to come. Now.

“Fuck me,” I grit, pulling at his ass, driving my fingertips into the flexing muscle. There’s barely enough room in the back of this damn sedan to get halfway comfortable but I don’t plan to be here that much longer. I push my face close to his ear and bite at the lobe, not caring if it’s a tad too rough. He’s the one who instigated this, he damn well better be prepared to see it all the way to the end.

Gibbs instantly gets with the program and is pounding into me, his face tucked tightly into my neck. I’m remotely aware of his teeth against my skin but, hey, I’ve other, more important, sensations to focus on. It’s almost like wrestling, the grabbing and shifting and maneuvering…all in an enclosed space…and without the aid of a mat. The fabric against my back is not the best and I fleetingly wonder if the car manufacturers ever consider sex when think about seat coverings. I mean, a lot of sex takes place in vehicles, right? It just seems that…

Oh! Oh, yeah…right there. That’s good…just like that.

Gibbs has found the mark and is taking me there quick. Just a few more stokes…just a few more. I snake my hand between our sweating bodies, barely have the chance to get my fingers on the head on my dick, and I’m coming…

…and coming…

…and….

..oh…God almighty…

…oh…

Gah. Stick a fork in me, I’m done. And, apparently, so is Gibbs.

We just lay there like two tangled slugs, breathing hard and trying to get our hearts to calm. I sort of feel like I should be angry with him, especially because I think he purposefully tried to scare me with this little, fucked-up demonstration. That’s just not right.

On the other hand, it sure sparked something deep within me and all I could think about was getting Gibbs in me and getting off. Crap. Am I twisted or what?

Gibbs finally pulls back, kisses me once real sloppily on the mouth, and shifts to the other side of the bench seat, slowly putting his disheveled clothing back to rights. I can only lay there and watch, amazed at how good he looks…and how he’s taking this all way too nonchalantly. I frown when his eyes met mine.

“What?” He asks and I almost laugh. There’s that word again.

“You going to explain this to me?” I question, finally pulling myself up and reaching for my hastily discarded socks. I don’t want to get dressed but I don’t think there’s much of an option. A dip in a pool would be great right about now. I push that thought away and look back at Gibbs.

He shrugs and passes me a small towel he’s got stashed under the front seat, indicating I need to clean up a bit before he uses it to wipe his own hand. I wince as I dab at the streaks and smears on my belly and feel a bit embarrassed when I hastily swipe at my ass but know I can’t put my clothes back on until I get most of this stuff off. I hand him back the towel and sigh.

“What do you mean, ‘what’? This little trip into the Twilight Zone,” I huff and open the door on my side, knowing it’ll be much easier to get back into my pants if I’m standing up. I didn’t have any underwear on to begin with but, now, I wish I did. I may be feeling a little squishy down there until I can get thoroughly cleaned and an added layer of material sure would be handy. Oh, well.

Gibbs is out on his side now and we’re eyeing each other over the roof of the car. Again.

“You pissed me off,” he shrugs again and states it like it was nothing. “I told you to shut up when we were coming back from that warehouse and you didn’t.”

“So,” I’m fishing now, trying to understand his reasoning, “this was punishment?”

He looks at me strangely. “You feel like you’ve been punished, Tony?”

Yes. No. Maybe. Oh, hell…I don’t know. I guess he can clearly see my confusion because now the bastard is smiling, just grinning at me like he‘s won first place at some state fair. Blue ribbon for best in show…or whatever they have at state fairs. I don’t know.

He’s all tucked in and reaching for the handle on the driver’s side before I’m even half way ready. I have to hustle to get my shit together and, when I’m finally back in my seat and belted in, he sighs and turns fully to look directly at me. He opens his mouth, like he’s going to speak, but quickly closes it, bringing a hand to lightly trace across my closest cheek instead. It’s a tender gesture, one I’m not that familiar with and almost achingly sweet, and it sets my stomach fluttering…just a bit.

Oh, no…I can’t be scared again, can I?

Well, it sure wouldn’t be the first time.


END