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FIC: Breaking Point (Gibbs/DiNozzo, NC-17)
Spamming today, b/c my smut muse returneth. More or less. *g*
Title: Breaking Point
Pairing: Gibbs/Tony
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Angst. In buckets.
Summary: It would take something catastrophic to finally bring them together.
Spoilers: SWAK and Twilight
Notes: Awhile ago I wrote two (very brief) pre-slash character studies - Secrets and Rules – and left it there. I really didn’t think I’d write NCIS again, but Twilight was inspiring. *g* It’s completely unnecessary to read the other two first, but this is how the two guys in those stories would get together.
Additional note: I was aiming for a stream-of-consciousness, fog-of-grief type thing. It’s entirely possible that what I ended up with is just OTT fog-of-confusion. Whatever. I had fun with this. *g*
Breaking Point by Audra Rose
Kate’s not the first he’s lost. Gibbs reminds himself of this, even as he watches Abby’s tears and McGee’s silence, even as he meets Ducky’s eyes and sees his own expression reflected back. She’s not the first Ducky’s lost either, not even close.
But now they need to work, for themselves as much as for Kate, who is past needing their help. Later, there will be justice; there will be vengeance, but for now they need to work.
“Where’s DiNozzo?” he asks. “McGee!” More sharply now. “Where’s DiNozzo?”
McGee looks up like Gibbs woke him from a trance and waves vaguely toward the interior of the building. Gibbs just shakes his head and lets McGee go back to his grief, at least until Gibbs brings what’s left of his team together.
Gibbs looks for Tony even though he doesn’t want to. Gibbs doesn’t want to find him, motivate him, put him back together. Deep down he’s afraid that Tony’s grief is the one thing that might break him. He searches for the detachment he’d achieved when Tony lay dying as much as he searches for Tony.
When Gibbs finally finds him Tony is slouched over the sink, the stark line of his back a bow over the porcelain, the blades of his shoulders too pronounced beneath the thin black cotton of his shirt.
Work. That’s what Tony needs, what they all need.
“Get back to work, DiNozzo," he says,though he lets his voice be kind. "You have a report to file.”
“Yeah, boss,” Tony answers, but there is no life there, as if Tony’s animation ran out with Kate’s blood. Tony raises his head to look in the mirror. Gibbs watches Tony glance with dispassion at his gaunt reflection, at the too-hollow eyes that still reflect what dying feels like.
Then Tony freezes, and Gibbs sees it, too – Kate’s blood on Tony’s face, sprayed across his brow and cheekbones. Suddenly Tony is bent over again and splashing water that soaks his shirt collar and his hair, the movements of his hands jerky and uncontrolled.
Gibbs never really touches Tony, never lets himself touch Tony, but Kate’s dead and by all odds Tony should be, too, so does it matter anymore if he slips his hand into Tony’s damp hair? Does it matter if he cups the back of Tony’s head to make him stand, or if he moves too close to streaming water and eyes like bruises against pale skin?
Gibbs doesn’t know anymore, so he moves even closer and puts his mouth on the sharp edge of Tony’s jaw, on the soft, hollow beneath Tony’s ear where he can feel Tony’s living pulse beat against his lips. He tastes the water dripping down Tony’s skin and feels the vibrations from the strangled sounds that Tony makes when Gibbs rakes his teeth across the taut tendon in Tony’s neck.
Tony is moving restlessly beneath Gibbs’ hands -- leaning, reaching -- so Gibbs holds him tighter, holds him still. He pushes his mouth past the wet fabric of Tony’s shirt to run his tongue along the hard ridge of Tony’s collar-bone and suck hard at the smooth skin of his shoulder.
At that Tony moans and turns his head, their faces brushing, and Gibbs can feel that Tony’s cheek is wet, cold and hot, water and tears. Now the noises that Tony is making sound like broken words, so maybe it does matter after all. Maybe Kate is the first who Tony’s lost.
So Gibbs steps back; it’s going to kill him, but he steps back, his mouth bruised and aching from the rough way he’s tasted Tony’s body, and Tony’s eyes are still like wounds, but angry now.
“No.” Tony’s whisper is fierce; the way Tony’s arms are fierce, jerking Gibbs forward until he stumbles into the hard wall of Tony’s chest and the wet heat of Tony’s mouth. Tony sinks into Gibbs like Gibbs is water, like Gibbs is salvation and at first Gibbs doesn’t remember that he can move, too.
Gibbs’ world becomes Tony’s hands and Tony’s tongue and the hard, insistent press of Tony’s body. Tony seems mindless, rocking into Gibbs, each breath labored and harsh. That is what finally makes Gibbs move; makes him push Tony against the door so that he collapses against it, heart pounding and chest straining for breath beneath Gibbs’ seeking fingertips.
“Let me… just let me…”
Gibbs hears his own voice like it comes from someone else, and he wants to crush Tony between the door and his own body, wants to grind his aching cock against the hard lines of Tony’s hips, but instead he reaches between them and lays his palm flat against the bulge between Tony’s legs. Impossible, but he feels Tony harden even more and buck against his hand and Tony’s sudden hiss is harsh in Gibbs’ ears.
Then Gibbs can’t wait any longer; he’s waited years already it seems and now he won’t wait one second more – cloth and buttons and zippers come away, and God, it feels too good to fill his hands with Tony’s flesh, the thick, hot-silk-slick of him. Tony’s words are clearer now, torn away, “Please - .”
So Gibbs kisses him. He kisses Tony’s mouth and strokes Tony’s cock until he makes Tony gasp and pull his mouth away; until he makes Tony shudder with pleasure and grief over Gibbs’ hands, his face pressed into Gibbs’ neck.
Gibbs tries to move away then but Tony’s hands come hard around his hips and Tony’s teeth sink deep into his shoulder. It’s Gibbs’ turn to beg as Tony drives Gibbs’ body hard against his own, snarling into Gibbs’ ear, “Come on,” -- until Gibbs’ world goes red and shatters behind his eyes and Tony is the only thing that keeps him standing.
He gives himself one minute, two, in Tony’s arms before he remembers. He looks up and whispers pain and promises against Tony’s mouth. Then he lets Tony go; for now he lets Tony go.
End.
Completely OT - I've decided that pre-natal vitamins should come in Oreo form. I'm contacting Pfizer tomorrow.
Title: Breaking Point
Pairing: Gibbs/Tony
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Angst. In buckets.
Summary: It would take something catastrophic to finally bring them together.
Spoilers: SWAK and Twilight
Notes: Awhile ago I wrote two (very brief) pre-slash character studies - Secrets and Rules – and left it there. I really didn’t think I’d write NCIS again, but Twilight was inspiring. *g* It’s completely unnecessary to read the other two first, but this is how the two guys in those stories would get together.
Additional note: I was aiming for a stream-of-consciousness, fog-of-grief type thing. It’s entirely possible that what I ended up with is just OTT fog-of-confusion. Whatever. I had fun with this. *g*
Breaking Point by Audra Rose
Kate’s not the first he’s lost. Gibbs reminds himself of this, even as he watches Abby’s tears and McGee’s silence, even as he meets Ducky’s eyes and sees his own expression reflected back. She’s not the first Ducky’s lost either, not even close.
But now they need to work, for themselves as much as for Kate, who is past needing their help. Later, there will be justice; there will be vengeance, but for now they need to work.
“Where’s DiNozzo?” he asks. “McGee!” More sharply now. “Where’s DiNozzo?”
McGee looks up like Gibbs woke him from a trance and waves vaguely toward the interior of the building. Gibbs just shakes his head and lets McGee go back to his grief, at least until Gibbs brings what’s left of his team together.
Gibbs looks for Tony even though he doesn’t want to. Gibbs doesn’t want to find him, motivate him, put him back together. Deep down he’s afraid that Tony’s grief is the one thing that might break him. He searches for the detachment he’d achieved when Tony lay dying as much as he searches for Tony.
When Gibbs finally finds him Tony is slouched over the sink, the stark line of his back a bow over the porcelain, the blades of his shoulders too pronounced beneath the thin black cotton of his shirt.
Work. That’s what Tony needs, what they all need.
“Get back to work, DiNozzo," he says,though he lets his voice be kind. "You have a report to file.”
“Yeah, boss,” Tony answers, but there is no life there, as if Tony’s animation ran out with Kate’s blood. Tony raises his head to look in the mirror. Gibbs watches Tony glance with dispassion at his gaunt reflection, at the too-hollow eyes that still reflect what dying feels like.
Then Tony freezes, and Gibbs sees it, too – Kate’s blood on Tony’s face, sprayed across his brow and cheekbones. Suddenly Tony is bent over again and splashing water that soaks his shirt collar and his hair, the movements of his hands jerky and uncontrolled.
Gibbs never really touches Tony, never lets himself touch Tony, but Kate’s dead and by all odds Tony should be, too, so does it matter anymore if he slips his hand into Tony’s damp hair? Does it matter if he cups the back of Tony’s head to make him stand, or if he moves too close to streaming water and eyes like bruises against pale skin?
Gibbs doesn’t know anymore, so he moves even closer and puts his mouth on the sharp edge of Tony’s jaw, on the soft, hollow beneath Tony’s ear where he can feel Tony’s living pulse beat against his lips. He tastes the water dripping down Tony’s skin and feels the vibrations from the strangled sounds that Tony makes when Gibbs rakes his teeth across the taut tendon in Tony’s neck.
Tony is moving restlessly beneath Gibbs’ hands -- leaning, reaching -- so Gibbs holds him tighter, holds him still. He pushes his mouth past the wet fabric of Tony’s shirt to run his tongue along the hard ridge of Tony’s collar-bone and suck hard at the smooth skin of his shoulder.
At that Tony moans and turns his head, their faces brushing, and Gibbs can feel that Tony’s cheek is wet, cold and hot, water and tears. Now the noises that Tony is making sound like broken words, so maybe it does matter after all. Maybe Kate is the first who Tony’s lost.
So Gibbs steps back; it’s going to kill him, but he steps back, his mouth bruised and aching from the rough way he’s tasted Tony’s body, and Tony’s eyes are still like wounds, but angry now.
“No.” Tony’s whisper is fierce; the way Tony’s arms are fierce, jerking Gibbs forward until he stumbles into the hard wall of Tony’s chest and the wet heat of Tony’s mouth. Tony sinks into Gibbs like Gibbs is water, like Gibbs is salvation and at first Gibbs doesn’t remember that he can move, too.
Gibbs’ world becomes Tony’s hands and Tony’s tongue and the hard, insistent press of Tony’s body. Tony seems mindless, rocking into Gibbs, each breath labored and harsh. That is what finally makes Gibbs move; makes him push Tony against the door so that he collapses against it, heart pounding and chest straining for breath beneath Gibbs’ seeking fingertips.
“Let me… just let me…”
Gibbs hears his own voice like it comes from someone else, and he wants to crush Tony between the door and his own body, wants to grind his aching cock against the hard lines of Tony’s hips, but instead he reaches between them and lays his palm flat against the bulge between Tony’s legs. Impossible, but he feels Tony harden even more and buck against his hand and Tony’s sudden hiss is harsh in Gibbs’ ears.
Then Gibbs can’t wait any longer; he’s waited years already it seems and now he won’t wait one second more – cloth and buttons and zippers come away, and God, it feels too good to fill his hands with Tony’s flesh, the thick, hot-silk-slick of him. Tony’s words are clearer now, torn away, “Please - .”
So Gibbs kisses him. He kisses Tony’s mouth and strokes Tony’s cock until he makes Tony gasp and pull his mouth away; until he makes Tony shudder with pleasure and grief over Gibbs’ hands, his face pressed into Gibbs’ neck.
Gibbs tries to move away then but Tony’s hands come hard around his hips and Tony’s teeth sink deep into his shoulder. It’s Gibbs’ turn to beg as Tony drives Gibbs’ body hard against his own, snarling into Gibbs’ ear, “Come on,” -- until Gibbs’ world goes red and shatters behind his eyes and Tony is the only thing that keeps him standing.
He gives himself one minute, two, in Tony’s arms before he remembers. He looks up and whispers pain and promises against Tony’s mouth. Then he lets Tony go; for now he lets Tony go.
End.
Completely OT - I've decided that pre-natal vitamins should come in Oreo form. I'm contacting Pfizer tomorrow.
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damn. powerful, painful, devastating and hot all at once.
I still want to write like you when I grow up.
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Thanks! *BG*
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This is fantastic. Hot and painful and definitely how I can see them dealing with their grief. And did I mention hot?
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PS Last night was too much fun - two hours! :)
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Wonderful job.
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You destroy me. You completely rip my heart out and leave me bleeding. And I love you dearly for having the skill to do this. Beautiful as always. *bg*
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What a gorgeous fic. The emotions are deep and complex and stark, and the sensual detail is rich and vivid. I loved your Secrets and Rules and I can clearly see this as how those two guys could come together in spite of everything.
And this:
Tony sinks into Gibbs like Gibbs is water, like Gibbs is salvation
This half killed me. In the best way.
And then the last paragraph finished me off. Gorgeous. Perfect. Just wonderful.
Thanks so much for writing this.
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Now I'll go read the very loose sequel. Nicely done. Definitely could see this happening. Oh yeah, a definite breaking point indeed. My poor boys *hugs them*
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I'm so glad that you enjoyed the story! I love them playful, but I think I like them angsty and a little tormented best. *bg*
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BTW, this was recced at Crack_Van. ;)
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