Chapter 3 – Love's Back Story
Fornell could only make an approximate guess as when his regard for Leroy Jethro Gibbs changed from simply platonic to something more. It was after their rivalry had turned into friendship, after Jethro had gotten him out of jail for a crime he hadn't committed; after that asshole had dared to threaten his daughter's life. Jethro had been with him every step of the way and he hadn't backed down, even when Fornell was at his grisliest, snarling worst.
It was somewhere around their mutual disdain for the Punjab Express, and somewhere around the point that he had started cooking for them both. That was when he had started really getting a feel for the man, really starting to feel that this was a human being whom he could be comfortable with, as opposed to merely withstanding the force of.
They had started watching old westerns together, Jethro ironing and Tobias folding, all the time joking that if their ex could see them now, she'd probably fall over with apoplexy at the sight.
Then the unit he oversaw at the FBI had gotten a string of extremely worrisome, violent cases that had required him to work all hours of the night. Since he only had Emily on the weekends, and Jethro never seemed to sleep—always awake when Tobias came in, no matter how quiet he was—and since he knew the front door was always unlocked, he had started crashing on the man's couch during that time, knowing it was always available, at least to him.
And then, out of the blue, Jethro had cleaned out a room he hadn't actually known existed and produced something of a guest bedroom for him, grouching the entire time that he didn't want Fornell bitching about his back—even though he hadn't said a word about it to begin with. Tobias had noted with some interest that the room was closer to Jethro's own than the couch had been, and he had wondered if it wasn't just some subtle way of keeping an eye on him.
The thought had filled him with sort of a warm thrill at the base of his spine, something he hadn't been inclined to peer too closely at during the time. He liked to imagine that if he asked Jethro about the appearance of the guest room, that there wouldn't be any answer; just that damned grin and a shake of a contrary head.
He liked that. Diane wouldn't give him the time of day unless he wheedled for it, but Jethro gave him a bedroom of his own without his even voicing a desire for it.
One night, they had been watching some old western together, just like always, and then for whatever reason, he had simply nodded off. He had fallen asleep with his head resting on the back of the couch, but when he had awoken, he had been horizontal with a blanket over him and his head resting on a warm lap. He'd stirred slightly, and an equally warm hand had brushed down over the side of his temple and he'd heard, "Shh," emanate from somewhere above him.
He'd been so very comfortable, and he had known beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was safe; so with that soft instruction, he had simply closed his eyes and slid back into sleep. When he had awoken again the next morning, it was to find himself laid out atop Jethro's chest, the man very firmly asleep on the couch under him.
He had been inclined just to take a moment and stare down at the sleeping face just scant inches from his own. He had never seen Jethro asleep, and god help him, but he had found himself liking the sight.
Fornell had never found himself falling into relationships as easily as some—Dinozzo—did. He hadn't had the time for most of his adult life, and he knew that there weren't a great many that would be willing to put up with him long term. Diane had confirmed that and with her violently worded predilections for his future, she had squashed any hopes he might have had too.
Mostly his experience lay in the realm of a few no strings attached one night stands, in which he had bedded both females as well as a few males here and there. It wasn't something he could broadcast too loudly if he ever wanted to be promoted, but since the repeal of DADT, he had found himself wondering exactly what would happen if he ever found himself in such a position again, so to speak.
Besides, he had put in his time, done his bit for his country, the whole spiel. If the FBI wanted to fire him, then they'd have to find a damned good reason other than to pick on him for an off hours personal decision.
. . .
And then there had been the night of the party. If anything signaled a turning point in their relationship, it was that night.
They had been celebrating a successful joint venture between the FBI and NCIS; one that involved both of their teams. It wasn't often that a case turned out so well, especially when two agencies were forced to share information with people that they didn't necessarily feel comfortable around. Unlike in the past, Fornell and Gibbs had made it a point to push the importance of open communication between the groups, and they had done all in their power to demonstrate that in front of each of their respective teams.
"And take McGee with you," Gibbs had said, gently pushing Tim out the door and into Abby and Tony's awaiting arms. The young techie agent was drunk out of his gourd, and the last thing Gibbs had wanted was for the young man to wind up passed out at his place.
The rest of the members of their unusual group had already left, and now that Abby, Tony and Tim were gone, Fornell and Gibbs were finally alone.
Fornell had watched the exchange in amusement from his spot leaning somewhat drunkenly against a doorway on the opposite side of the room. He didn't get drunk very often, especially not around other people. Mostly because he didn't have the time, but also because he didn't trust very many people that much. In some ways, he could be as bad as Gibbs in paranoia, although he would never have admitted it aloud.
He watched as Gibbs closed the door and then slowly made his way to the couch, slumping down into the cushions as he sat.
"You look like shit," Fornell bantered, feeling almost certain that he was slurring his words.
"Ha," Gibbs countered, opening his eyes a fraction to glare non-threateningly back at him. "You don't look much better," raising the corner of his lips as he said it.
Almost imperceptibly, Fornell had felt his heart rate increase slightly as he had started to move closer to the where the other man was.
"You know," he said slowly, stopping just in front of where Gibbs was sitting. "You're not as big a bastard as you'd like to make out."
Then, maybe it was the alcohol lowering his inhibitions or maybe it was just because he was too tired to really give a damn, he had eased himself down until he was sitting on Gibbs' lap, face to face with him, his legs on either side of the man's own. He felt his center of gravity shift slightly and just as he reached out a hand to steady himself on Gibbs' shoulder, he'd felt one of Jethro's far too warm hands come up around his hip.
"And why do you say that?" Blue eyes were staring back at him in open challenge.
Inching forwards slightly higher on Gibbs' thighs, their chests nearly touching, Fornell had answered, "You're worse than a papa bear around your team. Someone looks at them wrong and bang! There goes Jethro Gibbs, jumping down their throat."
This close, it was hard to see facial expressions on the other man, but Fornell could have sworn a smile had crossed Jethro's face at his words.
"So that's bad?" Gibbs asked softly, lifting his other hand and wrapping around Fornell's remaining hip.
"Hardly," he scoffed, running a hand down the other man's chest and getting a barely noticeable shiver for his action. "Shows you give a damn," he added, pushing himself flush with Gibbs' chest. "Shows you care," he murmured, his lips scant millimeters from Jethro's neck.
The world was still seesawing around his alcohol addled brain as he moved his head slightly to lean it on Jethro's steady shoulder. This close, he could feel the sudden inhalation that came from Jethro's chest at his action. His hands pushed downwards under the lip of the other man's t-shirt and then slid upwards again, moving easily up the sides of the warm muscled chest in front of him.
"Tobias," Jethro whispered in a near growl, moving his hands down lower to cup around his buttocks, squeezing gently as they did.
He rolled his hips forwards slightly and felt a harder area of warmth meet his clothed groin as he did.
All he could hear was the sound of Jethro's deep steady breaths; a steady counter rhythm to the feel of his increasing heart rate.
"I don't want to wake up to regrets in the morning," he whispered throatily, pushing his nose forwards into Jethro's neck and gently nuzzling the skin there. He liked the way Jethro smelled. It was a comfortable smell with no excess frills or flowery intentions to work through.
"So don't," Jethro growled hoarsely, sliding a hand up to cradle the back of his head.
He picked his head up and stared back into Jethro's eyes.
"I want this," he admitted, pushing his lips forwards into Jethro's own.
Slightly chapped lips met his, gently moving and opening up to greet him warmly. A sly tongue nipped at the corner of his mouth and he sighed softly, letting it in as he did. Their kiss was sweet, almost chaste in its simplicity, and Tobias instantly could tell that it wasn't enough. He wanted more.
He broke the kiss with a soft gasp, pulling back with a daring grin.
"So, your place or mine?" He asked flippantly, barking a laugh and feeling unusually lighthearted at the same time.
A calloused hand gently stroked the side of his temple and this time he knew for sure that he had seen a smile.
"Mine," Jethro whispered, standing up and pulling Tobias up with him.
Fornell swayed dizzily for a moment until Jethro reached around his back and steadied him with a single touch. Then, after confirming that there was no danger of his falling, Jethro moved a hand down to grasp one of his own and moved around him, gently pulling him along towards his bedroom. The trip upstairs seemed to take no time at all, and it wasn't long before Fornell had Jethro under his body once more.
He watched in silent fascination as Jethro quickly pulled on his t-shirt, before quickly doing the same with his own. They had stripped to undershirts long before the party had been over, and with this action, both men were left only in pants.
He had long thought he was too old to feel self-conscious, but now Jethro's roaming, appreciative eyes proved otherwise.
"Something wrong?" He asked, trailing a finger down the center of Jethro's chest.
"Nope," Jethro grunted, pulling him down into a hard kiss, his hands blindly snapping open Fornell's trousers with a speed that would have impressed him under other circumstances.
Tobias shimmied out of his pants and boxers in one fluid motion, his sudden bout of self-consciousness over as his hard cock made itself known between them. He watched with glazed eyes as Jethro suddenly licked his lips and he fought against the moan that tried to escape his throat at the sight.
"You ever done this before?" He managed to ask hoarsely, his own hands trying to touch every reachable piece of skin in front of him.
He got an affirmative grunt for his efforts. He took comfort in that Jethro was no kid he'd have to coach through this. The thought made him moan as he wondered just how good the other man was. Practically clawing open Jethro's pants, he felt the hips under him rise as they both fought to get them off. Then finally—finally —they were gone and Fornell could feel only hot skin and flexing muscles beneath him.
He reached down and gently took a hold of Jethro's cock, rubbing a thumb over its tip and getting a responding groan for his efforts.
The idea that he might see Jethro let loose under him, actually lose control, made his hips thrust forwards hard, just as the other leaned up and caught his lips again. This time, their kiss was messy and wet as Jethro suddenly flipped him over on his back, cock driving down into his stomach as the other man let his intentions be known.
Jethro let him go with an almost silent gasp, and Fornell lamented against the lack of sound. Clearly, he'd have to do something to fix that. Flipping them back over with a grunt, he captured both of Jethro's hands and pushed them to the headboard, leaning forwards and panting slightly as he did.
A feral smile was his answer as Jethro responded, "Got a preference?" His hips rolling upwards on the last word.
Smiling his own half grin, Tobias hissed back, "I want to ride you until you beg me to let you cum." He slid downwards and caught one of Jethro's balls in his mouth, changing the man's bark of laughter to a low gasping moan as he did.
Letting the one in his mouth loose with a wet pop, he moved to the next, adding just a touch of tooth when Jethro dared to move too much. The suddenly tense body under him pleased a sadistic streak in him as he purposely drooled around his mouthful. Using a bit of the excess wetness to coat his finger with, he drew a wet path down Jethro's perineum, all the way to his opening before gently pushing the digit inside as far as he could reach and crooking it just so.
A whining gasp above him was his answer and he smiled around his mouthful, finally letting it go only when he was satisfied with the sounds coming from Jethro's throat. Pulling his finger free, he sat up and smirked back at the writhing man under him.
"You were saying?" Fornell asked, raising an eyebrow as he did.
Still breathing hard, Jethro slid skilled hands down his chest, moving them around to the back of his ass. Belatedly, Tobias realized he could feel slickness on one of those hands. Suddenly feeling two fingers at the entrance to his hole, he leaned forwards and caught himself on Jethro's flexing chest, shoving his tongue into the other man's mouth just as the fingers pushed not so gently into his ass.
He gave a groan that was half relief and half pain. It had been too long since he had last done this, and he was feeling it. Jethro's free hand stroked down the side of his head again as those fingers began moving within him.
Shifting his head away from the wet mouth in front of him, he groaned again. He knew that Jethro would never purposely hurt him, but at the present, it certainly felt purposeful.
"This your idea of revenge?" He growled out, reaching out and pulling roughly on the other man's lower lip with his teeth. Grabbing a conveniently placed nipple from the plateau in front of him, he simultaneously bit down and pinched, just as the fingers inside him hit his prostate.
His moan of pleasure was echoed by Jethro's, and he briefly released the man's mouth only to reattach it to his other nipple, biting down sharply and feeling a shudder roll through them both. In retaliation, or so it seemed to Fornell, Jethro suddenly thrust another finger into his already stuffed asshole, and he grunted at the sudden intrusion.
"You trying to prove you're still a bastard?" He asked, feeling his body finally starting to relax enough to take the fingers comfortably.
"Nothing to prove," a sweating Jethro panted out, teeth marks standing out on his lip from Tobias' former gesture.
"Because it comes naturally?" He quipped, suddenly feeling bereft as the fingers abruptly left him.
Hands pushing against him and he shifted voluntarily, moving upwards and settling just over the other man's cock. Jethro guided himself inside slowly, his eyes tight and his throat tense as he moved, and Tobias leaned his head back as he felt his body sink downwards over his cock.
Moving down until it was completely inside his body, Tobias stopped and swallowed hard, trying to memorize the sight of the other man spread out before him; so damned needy looking in his obvious desire for him.
"Move," Jethro ground out, blue eyes now staring piercingly back up at him, a hint of desperation shining clearly through them.
Shifting so that his knees were evenly placed on either side of his body, Tobias began working up and down slowly on the cock in his ass. He could feel Jethro twitch as he did so, but his laughter soon turned into a groan as the heat in the room suddenly seemed to rise to all new heights.
Guiding himself carefully up and down, he leaned back and placed a hand on the bed behind him, feeling the change in angle immediately and nearly crying out at the sensation.
"If you come . . ." he gasped out, " . . . before I tell you to . . . I'll beat your ass." He picked up the pace, feeling his dick beginning to bounce against his abdomen as he did. "And then I'll tell everyone you can't get it up," he added, too far gone to even laugh at his own words.
Strong hands came up to rest against his hip, squeezing gently at first and then harder as Jethro began to help lift him up and down, faster and faster. Their motion was only hindered twice; once when he reached out a hand to stroke himself and it was batted away by Jethro; and then again as the body under him suddenly surged upwards, flipping them over with an almost violent motion and causing him to cry out at the change in positioning.
Jethro began thrusting into him at a much faster rate, grunting softly with each downwards motion. Stars began to flash in front of his retinas as pleasure began to ebb and flow through and between them. A calloused but slick hand abruptly grasped him around his dick, stroking him much slower than he would have preferred.
"Jethro," he gritted out, glaring and thrusting his hips upwards as he did. "Damn it," he groaned as the other man forced him to take the slower rate.
He felt himself getting close, and then suddenly much closer, his eyes shutting almost of their own accord as he felt Jethro's thrusts suddenly turn ragged.
Just when he thought he couldn't hold on much longer, Jethro grunted out, "Now?"
His eyes flying open at the question, his entire body trembling as he rested on the precipice of orgasm, he nodded swiftly, unsure if he could even form words. Giving another couple of shuddering thrusts, Jethro suddenly collapsed against him, his penis pulsing inside his body as he came hard. Tobias' vision grayed out as he came, the final feel of a calloused thumb brushing over his tip pushing him over the edge and into post-orgasmic oblivion.
He came to at the feeling a wash cloth moving itself gently over his chest and then lower down to his ass. Seconds later, he heard Jethro reach and presumably put it on the bedside table beside them, before rolling back over and gently pulling a greatly relaxed Tobias into his arms. A shift and he heard a click, and then the room was plunged into pleasant and complete darkness.
"Mmm," he murmured, scratching at his chest lightly. "We should do that again sometime."
A soft laugh and then the hand resting at his shoulder reached up and brushed its way through his hair, what little of it he still had. The sensation was soothing, and familiar in a way that his conscious self didn't yet recognize.
Another moment of silence and then he added, "But I'm topping next time."
