Recently, author KA Mitchell tweeted a link to a website called Bad Dragon. A few of us followed the link and were…surprised at the creativity there. After much hilarity on Twitter, this little oneshot was born. It is dedicated to everyone on twitter. Do you tweet? If so, feel free to add me. I'm JetGibbs. And to check out Bad Dragon, Google for Bad Dragon toys. This website is not worksafe in the least! You have been warned.
Contains toy play.
This is dedicated in a small way to my cat Java, who left us for the Rainbow Bridge last Monday. He was a terrific companion and often sat with me as I wrote. This is the first thing I've attempted to write since losing him, and he seems to have crawled in for a cameo.
Gibbs strode into his house with more enthusiasm than he felt, kicking a shipping box that had been on the porch inside. The team had worked long hours cracking a drug trafficking case at Pax River. They'd commuted in from the Yard most days, the seventy mile each way trip chewing into their patience and downtime. Gibbs and Tony had fallen into bed exhausted most nights with barely a muttered "night" between them. Gibbs knew it wasn't good enough for either of them, but they'd had the case to solve.
He rolled his shoulders and neck slowly, hearing the pops and cracks as he worked the tension out. First, a hot shower was on the agenda, and then he'd grill some steaks and corn on the outdoor grill. He'd told Tony to pick up the food and dessert on the way home.
Gibbs glanced down at the box with a vague sense of curiosity. It was addressed to Tony from someone named Jan Mulders, a name he didn't recognize. Gibbs picked up the box, shaking it slightly. Big, but not heavy. The contents didn't make any sounds or rattle in any way. It wasn't liquid, probably wasn't electronics or anything paper. Probably some rare DVDs that Tony had picked up from E Trade or whatever that auction website was called. Leaving it in the hallway where Tony was sure to see it, Gibbs abandoned the box. For now.
Gibbs made his way upstairs, taking his jacket off, placing it in the spare room in the dry-clean pile. He toed off his shoes, stripped off polo and undershirt, tossing them in the to-
wash pile. His chinos joined the dry-clean pile, and his boxers the to-wash pile, which was towering. They'd have to do their laundry soon. Even though most of Tony's stuff was dry clean only, most of Gibbs' wasn't, and he was running low on polos and underwear.
As he passed the clothes piles, he flicked a glance to it, zeroing in on a pair of emerald green silk bikinis. Tony'd worn those when he'd done a striptease for Gibbs last week. He groaned, his body wanting to react despite the exhaustion thrumming through him. Gibbs picked up the underwear, letting it drift through his fingers, before he shook his head, feeling slightly foolish.
He padded into the bedroom and turned on the shower in the attached bathroom. A couple years ago, Gibbs had completely gutted the bathroom, replacing the twenty-year-old tub, time-worn counters, and leaky sink with his own custom-made work. He'd built all the cabinets, had chosen the countertops, sink, and fixtures, and had laid the tile for the huge shower. It was fancier than anything else in the house—except the bed—and he loved it, as did Tony.
Gibbs adjusted the two showerheads so they'd beat a steady rhythm on his aching back and neck, and ducked under the spray, his eyes falling closed. Showers had always been a sure-fire way to relax him, and he needed to bleed the tension away.
Gibbs could pinpoint the exact moment Tony entered the house. It was a gut sense that alerted him to the presence of his lover, as Tony moved quietly around the house. Gibbs heard a startled exclamation and shook his head. Tony could be pretty amusing some days, and Gibbs had a feeling this package was going to show him Tony's childlike side, which rarely came out at home.
He was irreverent, hyper, distracted and outrageous at work, but when home with Gibbs, he was more grounded, more relaxed. The masks dropped away, and Gibbs got to see the brilliant man Tony rarely showed anyone. Gibbs would never have admitted it, but he loved seeing Tony's playful side at home. Sometimes. Not every day, but every once in a while it was kinda…nice. The different sides of Tony were equally fascinating to Gibbs.
He looked up as the shower door opened and Tony stepped inside, reaching around Gibbs for his fancy body wash. Gibbs' nose twitched as Tony poured some out, and he stepped aside, bar of Irish Spring in his hand. It was good enough for him.
"Get the food?"
"Two steaks, a half dozen ears of corn, and some chocolate cake with berries and whipped cream for dessert." Tony bounced from foot to foot and Gibbs cocked his head, watching the other man.
"What's got ya so excited?"
"A package." Tony's voice dipped, becoming husky, and Gibbs' cock twitched in response. He loved it when Tony used the lower register. It hit all the seduction areas of Gibbs' psyche.
"What kinda package?" Gibbs asked. A part of him wanted to give in to temptation, to kiss Tony, to take Tony, right here, but something stopped him. Maybe it was the determined look in Tony's eyes. Or maybe it was something as mundane as the growling of his stomach.
"You'll see," Tony sing-songed, and Gibbs rolled his eyes. He finished in the shower and dried off quickly, throwing on a favorite USMC t-shirt and comfortably worn jeans. He slipped into his favorite beat-up pair of moccasins and padded downstairs.
While Tony finished his shower, Gibbs prepped the food and started the grill, cracking open a couple of beers. There was something to this relaxed domestic thing he and DiNozzo had. Nobody at work knew about them—and Gibbs was happy with that—but he and Tony had settled into a comfortable relationship, and he was happy with the way things were. The sex was great, neither of them demanded too much from the other, and it was comforting knowing someone had your six, whatever the situation.
Gibbs could hear Tony padding around upstairs even as he leaned against the deck railing, grill warming, steaks perfectly seasoned. There was something to having a guy around who liked his steaks just like yours—rare and with a lot of garlic, chased with Dominion Ale. It was comfortable, what they had between them, even if it was getting toward routine some days.
Gibbs handed Tony his beer as he stepped out—barefoot, wearing his own worn jeans and an Ohio State shirt with several small holes in it, probably from the small cat Tony'd adopted recently. Gibbs had needed some convincing, but when the cat snuggled into Tony's arms and started purring, he'd been won over. He just had to appear more gruff than he was. Gibbs had a reputation to maintain, after all.
"His majesty give ya a few new holes?" Gibbs asked, gesturing to a small slice in the red fabric near the collar.
"Yeah," Tony said with an embarrassed grin. "Wore this when I tried to bathe Java a couple weeks ago."
"Why'd ya think bathing a cat was a good idea?" Gibbs asked, motioning to his majesty himself. Java lifted his gaze, deep green intelligent eyes staring into Gibbs' from his position in the kitchen window. He lazily swiped his paw across the faucet and dipped his head under, catching the slow trickle of water.
"Dunno. Won't try it again." Tony tapped the window and pressed his index finger against it. Java licked his chops slowly, walking around in a gentle circle before jumping down to the kitchen counter, eyeing the water suspiciously, paw in the air,
"Gonna turn the water off?" Gibbs asked, arching a brow.
"Naw, let him have his fun."
Gibbs shrugged. They'd be inside soon anyway. It wasn't as if either of them liked their steaks cooked much. A full rare was perfect, in Gibbs' opinion. Tony leaned more toward medium rare, but had learned to love rare as well. As Gibbs put the steaks and corn on, he could feel the last of the tension leeching out of his body.
"Gonna watch a DVD tonight?" He wouldn't press or fish for details on the package, but he would put that out there, in case Tony wanted to share anything.
"Nope. Got plans, Jethro."
"Ya do?" Gibbs swallowed hard, imagining himself alone in the basement while Tony caught a drink with a frat brother, or did something with one of the members of the team. He, McGee, Palmer, and Abby had formed a pretty tight friendship, and they went out every week or so. Given the hours they'd put in on the case, Gibbs wouldn't be surprised to know the foursome was spending the night at a club or something. He pushed those thoughts away, banishing the flash of jealousy looming.
"Yep," Tony replied, grinning widely. "You and me, we have plans."
"That so?"
"Yep."
"Gonna fill me in?"
"Nope." That over-wide grin should have worried Gibbs, but it didn't. This was Tony—his Tony, not the masked man at work—and what trouble could they get into?
Gibbs watched as Tony wolfed his food down, seeming to barely taste it. After a week of fast food and bad diner meals, he'd expected Tony to savor this one. Sure, Gibbs wasn't a fancy chef, but he could make a mean steak, and the food was fantastic tonight—the steak perfectly cooked, tender, juicy, the corn sweet, hot, buttery. This was a meal to be relaxed over. Not only was it tasty, it was the first time in a week they'd had to eat in a relaxed atmosphere rather than eating and running.
"Slow down," Gibbs said, eyeing Java, sitting patiently on the table at Tony's side. Tony'd been feeding him a crumb here and there—a corn kernel, a bit of steak fat. Gibbs didn't approve, but he chose his battles wisely.
"Sorry!"
Tony looked anything but, and Gibbs tucked into his food, washing it down with a second beer. As he finished, Tony cleared the plates off and dropped them into the sink.
"Dessert?" Gibbs asked, arching a brow.
"Later. Let the food digest. Go downstairs or something." Tony waved his hand toward the basement door. "Come get me in twenty minutes or so. Upstairs."
"Upstairs?" Gibbs repeated. Tony spent more time in the den, where his big-screen TV and DVD collection lived.
"Yeah." The little boy glint was back in Tony's eyes.
"All right," Gibbs said with a shrug. He wanted to know what the hell was going on, but he'd be damned if he'd ask. He'd go downstairs, wait five, and then do some recon of his own.
Gibbs slipped downstairs, Java at his heels. For some reason, the cat enjoyed being in the basement. Gibbs watched as he rolled in some sawdust, then shook the debris off his sleek fur. There was no way Gibbs felt like working now, so he glanced through a woodworking magazine, a part of his mind mentally counting down five minutes.
Though it took considerable willpower, Gibbs waited an additional two minutes before climbing the stairs, his moccasins silent on the hardwood steps. He glanced around the kitchen by reflex, knowing Tony wasn't there, before climbing the stairs to the second floor.
"Oh my god!"
Tony's words were whispered, but Gibbs' ears picked out the phrase and the astonishment in his lover's voice. A rustle of paper and then another shocked exclamation reached his ears. He stopped, waiting.
"Chance, you beautiful boy! We're going to have a lot of fun."
Gibbs had never heard this tone before, and he wasn't sure he liked it. Sultry, knowing, sexy. Whoever Chance was, Gibbs didn't want Tony expending any energy on him. Did Tony think they needed porn to spice up their sex lives?
"Duke, what a man!"
There was a definite groan in Tony's voice now, and tension started running through Gibbs. Was Tony jacking off to the sight of some college-aged pretty boys? He strode forward, throwing the door to their bedroom open. And stared.
Tony was sitting on the edge of the bed, naked, his cock rock hard. Colored things were sitting on either side of him, but Gibbs couldn't quite figure out what they were. He took a step forward, and Tony's head shot up, his cheeks flushing dark red.
"Gibbs!"
"What's this?" Gibbs asked, his voice very firm.
"It's…" Tony covered up something aqua that was sticking—jutting—out of his hand. Gibbs swore he saw little suction cups on it. "Its…Bad Dragon."
"Bad what?" Gibbs folded his arms across his chest, trying to look as imposing as possible. Trying to act as if he knew what the hell Tony meant.
"Bad Dragon." Tony's hand was sliding up and down the thing in his hand suddenly, doing that twisting thing at the top. The same twisting thing that blew Gibbs' head clear off. His cock twitched hard, and he licked his lips, his breath stuttering for a second.
"What the hell's that?" he asked. His voice had taken on a husky quality now. He could only watch as Tony slid the thing over his groin, his hips thrusting up against it.
"Bad Dragon. Sex toys for people with…imagination."
Gibbs arched a brow. When he didn't say anything, Tony continued. "This is the tentacle."
"The tentacle?" Was it getting hotter in here? Tony offered the toy to Gibbs and he hesitated, but only for a moment, his hand curving around the item. The sex toy. It was aqua and curved and had suction cup looking things and a head…
He licked his lips, his legs twitching. "Yeah, the tentacle."
"What do ya want to do with it?" Gibbs questioned, his hand moving over the thing. It was flesh-like on the outside, but firm underneath. He could imagine this being a lot of fun…given the right circumstances.
"Play," Tony whispered. "I like to play with my toys." Tony squeezed the front of Gibbs' jeans and Gibbs thrust into the touch.
edited to conform with rules. Please visit this user name at Live Journal (no spaces) dot com for the entire story, but only if you're 18 or over!
Gibbs collapsed on the bed, rolling off to the side and pulling his lover close. He was still seeing starbursts, still hearing the roar of his own blood, still trying desperately to pull oxygen into his lungs.
"God…"
"Yeah," Gibbs echoed. "Kinda like this bad dragon," he remarked, hand smoothing over the shaft.
"Wanna play later?"
"You're insatiable."
"Not the only one, Gibbs." Tony looked at the array of toys spread out around them. "We have to road test them all." He smirked. "And this isn't even half their catalogue."
"You're gonna be the death of me."
"Least you'll die smiling."
So…should there be a sequel? What do you think?