Treading carefully doesn't even begin to cover it, Tony thinks, slumped down in his chair. More like tap-dancing across paper-thin ice while juggling firebrands. Or...something like that.

They tried to set up rules, at first--nothing during the week, *definitely* nothing at work. It was supposed to be a casual thing. Maybe. Tony's not sure, truth be told, and he's almost positive Gibbs isn't either. Then again, hes pretty sure neither of them ever expected something like this to happen.

He hides a smirk at that thought. He can just see Gibbs planning out contingencies for all situations...except this one. Somehow, the idea of him figuring out what to do in case the two of them ever fell into bed together--well, even Gibbs can't plan for the impossible.

Or the purely insane.

It's been three weeks now. Twenty-one days since that cup of coffee, and Tony's pretty damned certain that both of them are more confused than when Gibbs shoved him up against the counter and kissed him so hard he saw stars.

He'd thought the novelty would wear off, that after a few times between the sheets Gibbs wouldn't want him anymore and that would be that. Tony would go back to flirting with the ladies and Gibbs would go back to working on his boat and they'd act like nothing had ever happened. It wasn't what he'd wanted, but it was what he had expected.

Instead, every time they're together it's getting harder and harder to keep their hands off each other. They didn't even make it to bed last night before they were humping each other in Gibbs' hallway. Work is bearable, thanks to the buffering presence of everyone else and the way Gibbs can compartmentalize enough to treat him as normal.

Thankfully, getting snarked at isn't something he's developed a Pavlovian response for.

On the other hand, he's discovering kinks he never knew he had. Like the way Gibbs can make him come with barely touching him. Or the way he loves to push Gibbs until he loses control and there's nothing left but need and lust.

Gibbs likes to talk dirty to him, likes to whisper filthy things in his ear, tell Tony what he wants to do, what he's going to do. Given how reticent he is the rest of the time it's a constant surprise to Tony that he's so verbal in bed.

The weekend rule got thrown out the window the Wednesday after the first time, when Tony got pushed down a flight of stairs by a suspect. No harm done, aside from some bruises and a wrenched neck, but Gibbs hadn't let him go home that night. He'd driven Tony back to his own house, gave him aspirin and a heat wrap for his neck, and then put him to bed and made love to him with an intensity Tony had never even imagined before.

His neck was fine the next day. His ass, on the other hand...

It's Friday afternoon now and Tony wonders if he and Gibbs have plans after work. He looks at his computer screen, trying to focus on his work, but it's difficult. It's a slow day, he's finished all the urgent reports, and Kate left early to go to Norfolk so he doesn't even have anyone to bait.

An internal message window pops up on his screen. '6pm, Sanderson's.'

Tony blinks at it for a moment. It's from Gibbs, which isn't surprising. Nor is the terseness of the message. But--they don't usually do anything outside of work that doesn't involve getting naked and horizontal--or vertical or bent over--as soon as possible. So the dinner invitation is a bit unexpected.

He types back 'OK', wondering what Gibbs has in mind.

That's the extent of that.

They get out of work on time and Tony has just enough breathing room to drop by his apartment and change into jeans and a soft green sweater before meeting Gibbs at the restaurant. It's a place he's been before--it's a pub type place with excellent burgers and one of the largest selections of beer in the city.

Gibbs is waiting for him at the bar, a pint of something dark in his hand. "Hi," Tony says, suddenly feeling awkward.

Gibbs gives him a slight smile. "Hi."

Tony follows him to a table in the back and orders a Harp from the waitress. He looks at his menu, still wondering what's going on.

"I'm not going to bite," Gibbs says wryly. Tony looks up at him, startled. "At least...not now." Something flashes in his eyes and Tony's mouth goes dry.

"Okay." Tony pushes his menu away. "But what are we doing here?"

"It's called dinner, DiNozzo. You go out, you order food, you eat." Gibbs sips his beer. "As much fun as everything else is, I thought we might want to try something that *didn't* involve condoms for once."

And that's just so typically Gibbs that Tony has to laugh. "Aren't we supposed to do this the other way?" he asks. "You know...dinner, drinks, *then* the falling into bed?"

They should really be more discreet about this. They're government employees, after all, and they work for a quasi-military organization. But they're in a back corner and no one around seems to be paying any attention and Tony decides he just doesn't care right now.

"Tony, when have you ever done anything you're supposed to?" Gibbs asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Hey!" Tony grins. "I resemble that. But what about you?"

"I tried the normal way with three wives, remember?"

There's an awkward silence for a few moments. Gibbs pretends his menu is the most fascinating thing he's ever seen. Tony finally coughs.

"So. Um." Tony fiddles with his menu. "What is going on here, Gibbs?"

Gibbs takes a swallow of beer and sets his glass down. Anything he might have said is interrupted by the waitress coming by with Tony's beer. She takes their orders, although Tony has no idea what his is, and leaves.

"I don't know," Gibbs admits finally. "What do you want to be going on?"

And Tony has no idea how to answer that. He looks at his drink, turning it absently. "I..." He shakes his head. "What are we doing here, Gibbs? Is this just a fuck-buddy situation? Or are you interested in something else? Because don't get me wrong, the sex is fantastic. And I'd *love* to know where you learned some of...anyway." He grins, shrugs. " you want more?"

Gibbs shifts in his seat, leaning back against the booth. "You think I'd have slept with you if I didn't?"

"Gibbs, I have no idea why you pounced on me in the first place." Tony shakes his head. "You barely tolerate me at work. You give me *no* indication that you respect my work as an agent and you've made so many cracks about my personal life that frankly, I have no idea where I stand with you on anything. And you're so fucking closed-mouthed about your own life that I didn't even know you were bi. How am I supposed to know whether you do casual sex or not?"

That hits home; he can see it in the way Gibbs looks down at his mostly-empty beer and the way his hand tightens around the glass. Tony waits--for once he has the upper hand and he wants to hang on to it as long as possible.

"I don't," Gibbs says finally. "Then again, I don't usually jump my subordinates." He smiles, a little self-deprecatingly. "I give you a hard time, Tony, but it doesn't mean I don't respect your work. You're a good agent. I wouldn't have recruited you if I didn't think that. And your personal life..." He raises an eyebrow. "It lends itself to sarcasm."

Tony has to grin at that. "Yeah, well."

"I should never have kissed you that first time," Gibbs says. "I wanted to, but..." He sighs. "There are so many reasons why this is a bad idea, Tony."

"Do you want to end it?" Tony forces the words out.

Gibbs looks at him, and there's so much controlled passion in his eyes that Tony swallows instinctively. "I don't think I can, even if I wanted to. And--" He shakes his head. "God help both of us, because I don't."

Something unclenches inside Tony at those quiet words. "So where do we go from here?" he asks.

Gibbs smiles a little. "What do you want out of this?"

"I..." Tony stops, choosing his words carefully. "More. I want--" He shrugs sheepishly. "More than what we currently have, because great as the sex is, it's...not enough. Not with--" Not with you, he doesn't say. "I just--" He shrugs. "How do we make this work?"

"One step at a time, Tony." Gibbs shrugs. "It's all we can do."


They eat dinner quietly, in comfortable silence. They split the check and without asking, Tony automatically follows Gibbs home. He already has a spare toothbrush and change of clothes there and it's not like they have to go to work tomorrow, anyway.

"You want a drink?" Gibbs asks when they're inside.

"Yeah. That'd be good."

Gibbs hands him a heavy tumbler and Tony takes a sip, the bourbon smooth and burning on its way down. It's not his preferred drink--he's a fan of cognac, actually--but he doesn't mind bourbon when it's this good.

He crosses over to the window, looking out at Virginia at night. He can't see much, but there's something oddly comforting about the night sky. There's only one light on in the living room and it doesn't reflect on the window.

He hears Gibbs come up behind him and leans back against him, dropping his head back to rest on Gibbs' shoulder. Warm lips touch his throat, one arm slides around his waist, and Tony sighs a little, closing his eyes. "Mmm," he murmurs, his own hand resting on Gibbs' forearm. "I could get used to this."

Gibbs brushes a kiss over his throat, his tongue flickering over the skin. Tony shivers a little and sets his tumbler down on the windowsill. "Upstairs?" Gibbs asks softly.


It's as if the conversation from earlier has made both of them keenly aware of each other. Gibbs sets his drink down on the nightstand before he reaches for Tony, their bodies fitting together easily, comfortable but no less passionate.

They take their time undressing one another, although that's not so new. Sometimes they just push the clothes out of the way. Sometimes it's more fun to make a game out of it.

This is one of the latter.

Gibbs picks up his drink when Tony is lying on the bed. Tony watches as Gibbs kneels between his legs, tilting the glass and pouring a thin line of bourbon down the center of his chest. He shivers at the cool feel of the alcohol--and then the hot contrast of Gibbs' tongue as he licks it away.

His body aches deliciously with the heavy, warm pleasure running through him. Every time Gibbs creates new patterns on his skin, both with his drink and his tongue, it makes him melt deeper into the bed, unable to do anything but purr with pleasure.

"You sound like a cat," Gibbs says with amusement, tongue swirling around one of Tony's nipples.

"Mmm. Does that mean I get the cream?" Tony props himself up on his elbows and grins.

Gibbs smacks his thigh playfully. "I was actually hoping for something else," he says, his fingers skating up Tony's thigh and back under his body. "But if you'd rather..."

Tony pushes himself up and leans forward to kiss Gibbs, the faint taste of bourbon on his tongue. "How do you want me?" he murmurs against Gibbs' mouth.

In response, Gibbs twists them around so he's the one lying down and Tony is straddling him. "Like this," he says, his hands on Tony's thighs. "I want to watch you ride me."

Tony's a little amazed he doesn't come right then and there.

He fumbles the lube out of the drawer, as well as a condom, before looking at the little plastic packet. Do they really need this? He knows the risks, but...

"I'm clean," Gibbs says quietly, watching him. "But..."

Tony shrugs. "I trust you," he says simply, tossing the condom back in the drawer. "Just don't fuck around on me."

Gibbs' eyes darken and he grabs Tony's wrist, pulling him down. "I don't fuck around on my partners," he says, voice low and dangerous. "So long as you're in my bed, you're the only one in it."

"Good." Tony kisses him, hard, more a claim than a kiss. That's exactly the way he wants it.

He sits back on his haunches and opens the lube, squeezing some out onto his fingers. The gel is cool and he hisses a little as he reaches around and begins to work himself open. He feels Gibbs' eyes on him, hot and intense, and it makes him smile. "You like this?" he purrs. "You like watching me fuck myself on my fingers for you?"

Gibbs smiles. "Not as much as I'm going to like fucking your ass--every time I'm in you it's like I'm taking your cherry all over again. So fucking tight around me, Tony. Tight and hot and the way you squirm when I slide into you makes me think you've never had it as good as you do now. It's why I want you to ride me. I want to see just how desperate you get before you come on my cock. Want to see the way you look when I'm inside you, hear you whine and moan for me."

Tony grins and slides his fingers out of his body. "Arrogant bastard, aren't you?" he teases, slicking Gibbs' cock with the lube.

"No." Gibbs props himself up on his elbows, watching Tony. "I'm just that good.

The scary part is that he's right.

Tony holds Gibbs' cock with one hand and uses the other to brace himself as he sinks down, gasping a little at the stretch and burn. His legs ache from the strain and he leans forward, hands braced on Gibbs' chest as he begins to move.

Gibbs' hands run up and down his thighs, tracing patterns around his balls but not touching them. Tony groans and begins to move faster, pushing the cock inside him harder, deeper, making Gibbs gasp sharply and his hands clench on Tony's legs.

His eyes are closed with concentration but he can *feel* Gibbs watching him, blue eyes intent on every shiver of his body, every gasping breath he takes. One of these days he thinks he'll have to jerk off for the man, just to give him something to see.

But that thought doesn't belong here, not right now, not when he's riding Gibbs' cock and his climax is building slowly inside him, spiraling tighter and tighter in the pit of his belly. Gibbs reaches up and wraps one hand around his cock and twists and that's it, he's coming, crying out something incoherent and low and harsh.

His body clenches around Gibbs' cock and they both groan; Gibbs grasps Tony's hips, pulling him down deeper, faster, harder, *more*, using Tony for his own pleasure. Tony shudders and bites his lip and lets himself be taken, lets Gibbs roll them over and push back into him and take him, fucking him mercilessly.

He'd beg, if he had the words. But his brain is foggy from orgasm and his body is limp with pleasure and it feels so good that he doesn't care about anything right now.

Gibbs freezes inside him and curses and Tony feels warmth spill inside him. He groans a little, his heart beginning to slow down.

After a moment, Gibbs half-collapses next to him, pulling out in one smooth move. Tony hisses a little--he's going to feel this for a few days.

Not that he really cares.

They're both sticky and sweaty and Tony thinks vaguely that a shower would be good. But that involves moving and that isn't high on his list of accomplishable things right now. From the heavy breathing next to him, he's pretty sure Gibbs isn't feeling inclined to get up either.

But eventually, the need for cleanliness wins out over their sheer exhaustion and they stumble into the bathroom, wiping each other down with warm washcloths and kisses and lazy caresses. Tony is yawning by the time they get back to the bedroom and crawl under the covers. He wraps an arm around Gibbs automatically and closes his eyes, drifting off before Gibbs even turns out the lamp.
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