Warnings: Mild kink this chapter. Gags.
This chapter is an episode tag for: 8x05, Dead Air
Chapter 6 - Subtitles
Terence Mann: I'm going to beat you with a crowbar until you leave.
Ray Kinsella: You can't do that.
Terence Mann: There are rules here? No, there are no rules here.
~ from the movie Field of Dreams, 1989
~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~
Arlington, Virginia, 2010
Gibbs entered their bedroom bearing a mug of hot chamomile tea for Tony, who was sitting up in bed waiting for him. "You feeling better?"
~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~
He'd been nearly frantic earlier that day when Tony and Ziva were knocked flat by the bomb blast - until the smoke, reeking of chemicals and hot metal, had cleared. Then he saw Ziva lying on top of his lead agent, both of them laughing as if it was all a big joke. Gibbs hadn't missed how the Israeli woman had thrown herself on Tony to force him out of harm's way. He wasn't sure how badly Tony might have been hurt had he been standing when the explosive device blew sky high. It was entirely possible he might have been safe on the perimeter of the blast field, but the image of shrapnel tearing into Tony's flesh kept repeating itself in a disturbing loop.
Gibbs had sweated at how close a call it had been. His heart was still hammering in his chest when Tony - when both his agents - got to their feet, apparently unharmed. McGee had caught his boss puking behind the bomb squad truck, and had sent him a strange look but he had the sense to retreat without making a fuss.
Gibbs kicked himself. He'd allowed his emotions to get the better of him during an investigation and that, in turn, made him angry with himself. He'd been gruffer than usual with his agents until they'd all been checked out by the EMTs. They were unharmed, as were the spectators at the playing field, all lucky to have escaped serious injury, so he told himself to let it go. It wasn't an easy thing to do.
~ • ~ ~ • ~ ~ • ~
Tony had stood alongside Tim, chatting about Field of Dreams like a couple of old geezers at a family picnic reminiscing about the good old days. Gibbs wouldn't admit aloud that Dreams was one of his favorite movies of all time - he was still off balance because Tony had come within inches of being blasted to hell yet there he was, standing around smiling and acting as if it was all nothing, a big fucking nothing. Gibbs had been so scared he'd felt like his heart was literally being ripped out of his chest the moment after the explosion. He'd been sure that Tony had been blasted into a thousand tiny pieces, so damned small that Ducky would have to collect the gory remains of Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo in those little glass jars. He'd thought, for those few terrible seconds before the smoke cleared, that Tony was gone - dead - and that he'd been left alone with nobody to hold onto at night to scare the demons away.
Gibbs had eased up a bit when Ziva had persuaded him to play catch on the baseball field. He'd locked his fears away, knowing that no good would come from displaying any emotion in front of his team. Later on, when he was alone with Tony - only then could he let some of it out.
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Long afterwards, when they finally made it home, he noticed how quickly Tony's energy flagged. Tony kept insisting he was fine, though those words hadn't carried any weight for years. Although there was no outward sign that Tony was adversely affected by the strong blast wave, other than sore shoulders, Gibbs pushed his lover towards the bathroom for a long hot shower and then gave him a massage before supper.
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"Ducky says the tea'll help my throat," Tony said in a low, rasping voice. He sat back against his propped-up pillows, took the mug gratefully and sipped the steaming tea. Chamomile tea was not his favorite drink by any means, so he'd added a big spoonful of honey to make it palatable.
Gibbs slipped into bed next to Tony, careful not to jog him. "Ducky also said you were supposed to shut up for 24 hours. How about following that medical advice, DiNozzo?"
Tony spared Gibbs a sideways look. "Thought you liked the noises I make in bed, Jethro," he said with a wicked grin. His attempt to sound sexy failed when his words came out in a squeak.
Jethro shook his head and picked up his reading glasses and crossword puzzle. "Not if you sound like a chipmunk."
Affronted, Tony huffed and picked up the TV remote. "I think I sound more like Harvey Fierstein." Gibbs shot him a glance that clearly indicated he had no idea who Tony was talking about; he'd explain it to him another time. "I can order Arlington Road for us to watch. So long as it isn't in Odorama with toxic grass cuttings I should be safe."
"No movies about predatory women either. Refusing that invitation to join Mrs. Bikini in her hot tub was a good move, DiNozzo."
"She lost interest as soon as I said I was married," Tony admitted with a sly smile.
Gibbs held back a smile that threatened to break through. "And you'd best remember that. Now stop talking."
Tony flipped through the channels and then stopped at a film he recognized. "Hey, look what's on! Mute Witness! It's about a makeup artist working on a slasher film in Moscow." Tony smiled even though his voice was rough and the occasional word rose in pitch to a squeak. "She witnesses a murder. The actress doesn't speak English but as the character is mute it's moot. Alec Guinness plays The Reaper. Seriously creepy." Tony sipped some tea then said, his voice fading to a mere whisper, "It'll bring back memories of your time in Russia, boss."
"Not interested in old times, DiNozzo."
"There's lots of Russian dialog with no subtitles. You can translate. I love to listen to you speaking Russian, Jethro," he cajoled.
Gibbs turned to glare at Tony over the top of his glasses. "Translate this," he said darkly.
Tony saw the threatening look Gibbs was giving him and said in his barely-there voice, "On the other hand, maybe not such a bright idea. A car bomb goes off in the film." He shuddered, not entirely an act.
"I'd have thought one explosion today would be enough for you, Tony. You should sleep." If Tony had been standing upright when the bomb went off he might have been sleeping on a slab in the morgue tonight. Gibbs kept that thought to himself. He knew he'd dream about it later on though.
"Yeah, well, Ziva's tackle kind of reminded me of the way Pitt took me down back in '93." Tony coughed and ground out, "At least she didn't break anything. Or I don't think she did." He put a hand to his ribs and winced dramatically.
"She was lying on top of you for a bit longer than was necessary, don't ya think?"
Tony's eyebrows rose and a delighted grin emerged. "Oh-ho, someone's a little green, are they?"
Gibbs feigned disinterest. "You think I'm envious? Nope. I wouldn't want Ziva on top of me, thanks all the same."
"Envy? I thought green was for jealousy." Tony's voice was nearly nonexistent but he kept on talking. "Have you ever wondered where these color choices representing emotions came from? I mean why is yellow all about cowardice? It seems like a happy color, all beaches, summer and sunshine."
Gibbs sighed and put his crossword puzzle aside. He stared straight at Tony and waited for him to stop talking.
"I can understand red though. The color of anger, passion, sex, flaring emotions. Hot red lips…What? Oh. Time to shut up, boss?"
"Ya think?"
Tony shrugged and croaked, "Can't help myself."
With an understanding nod, Gibbs sighed and said, "Yeah, I get that. Well, looks like you need some help from me." He leaned forward to give Tony a kiss, putting a lot of tongue into it. He drew back to ask, "Think some more of that'll keep you quiet?"
"Mmm," Tony replied with a smile. He put the mug of tea aside and gathered Gibbs in his arms. After a long kiss he nuzzled the underside of the older man's jaw and murmured, "So does green represent envy or jealousy? Because…"
Gibbs stiffened and moved out of the embrace.
Tony whispered, "What now?"
"Be back in a minute." Gibbs ordered, "Drink up that tea while I'm gone."
When Gibbs returned from the other room he held something behind his back. Tony, back to watching the film, asked, "You want me to turn off the TV?"
Gibbs grunted so Tony shut off the TV and paid attention to his lover, who was kneeling on the bed, facing him, and apparently waiting for his undivided attention. He looked at Jethro expectantly.
Gibbs asked, "Tony, can you breathe through your nose?"
The question itself wasn't odd considering the circumstances and his congestion earlier in the day, but it was the way Gibbs was asking it, as if he was leading up to something, that was a bit off. "Yeah, fine," Tony said suspiciously. He inhaled deeply to prove he could breathe through his nostrils with ease.
"You sure?"
"Yeah. Look, Jethro, I know my voice is sort of compromised but it doesn't hurt. Okay, it hurt when Ducky was gripping my throat with the ME version of the Vulcan death grip, and he's very strong, did you know that, but…"
Gibbs pulled out whatever he'd been hiding behind his back and, faster than Tony could imagine was possible, something firm and rubbery was shoved in his mouth. Gibbs rose on his knees, ignoring Tony's muffled protests and flailing arms, and fastened the straps of a harness around his lover's head.
Gibbs sat back on his heels with a satisfied look on his face. "There, that should do the trick."
Tony's eyes widened when he realized he'd been effectively gagged and muzzled. He tried to speak through the rubber gag but it was filling his mouth and pressing down on his tongue so he couldn't do more than make unintelligible sounds. "Mfffro! Ah doh nee iss. Ill ee quieh." Frustrated, Tony reached behind his head to undo the straps but Gibbs grabbed his hands and forced them down to his sides.
He pushed Tony flat on the bed with one of his Marine-style moves and held him in place with the weight of his body. "You are obviously incapable of keeping quiet, Tony, so certain measures need to be implemented. Now, can you breathe okay? Do not speak. Just nod."
Staring and wondering what the hell had got into Jethro, who never played with sex toys, like never, Tony nodded. There must have been a hole in the gag because he discovered he was able to breathe through his mouth, which was good. Otherwise it might have been a little bit scary. Not sexy scary like an aggressive Jethro was, more like the can't-breathe scary that brought back unpleasant memories.
The bondage harness held his mouth closed and ensured there was no way to spit it out. That didn't mean that Tony didn't give it a damned good try, wriggling as he tried to dislodge it. Damn, why had Abby given him this gag in the first place? Well, he knew why - her heart was in the right place. He'd looked at it but never used it, nor even tried it out.
Gibbs wasn't into accessories but he seemed to enjoy the sight and feel of Tony struggling beneath him. "This is not a joke, Tony." Gibbs kept the pressure on Tony's arms to show who was boss. "You almost got killed out there today," he growled, "and if you can't speak when you go into work tomorrow Ducky is going to sideline you. Do you understand?"
It finally sunk into Tony's brain that this was one time he couldn't win - or talk - his way out of a situation. He sighed, exhaling through the rubber tube, and gave in with a submissive nod.
Once Jethro saw him capitulate he stroked Tony's hair and smiled. "Later on you can explain me what you were doing with this gag in your bag of toys."
Well, it wasn't like he'd hidden his toys; he hung it in plain sight above his shoe rack in the spare bedroom closet. Belatedly Tony remembered that Jethro had said something about repairing the hinges on the closet doors. He must have been curious. Looked inside. Shit, did that mean Jethro was finally willing to bend a little? Images of leather straps and vibrating silicone butt plugs danced in Tony's mind. There was a slap to the top of his head and a warning look from Gibbs.
"I can see you thinking, DiNozzo," Gibbs said with a low growl that emanated from the base of his throat.
That throaty tone certainly turned him on. Tony changed his tactics. He deliberately relaxed with a sigh under Jethro's firm hold and made what he hoped was a lost puppy dog plea with wide eyes. Tony let out a little whine. It came out muffled, which minimized the effect he was after.
"Forget it, Tony. You had your chance." Gibbs rolled off Tony and pressed the remote control into his hand. "Here, sit up and watch TV, and if you can keep quiet for an hour - and I mean no grunts, no whines, no squeaks - I'll remove the gag."
Gibbs went back to his crossword so Tony sat back against his pillows with a huff and turned on the TV once again, settling down to watch Mute Witness.
Gibbs wasn't entirely at fault here. Tony had been ordered not to speak for the sake of his vocal chords, but sometimes it was so hard to keep quiet when all those words were just dying to get out. He was like a kid who didn't know when to shut the hell up.
On the plus side, the rubber gag Jethro had forced into his mouth was making Tony really horny. The feeling of the rubber pressing down on his tongue, of having his ability to make a choice revoked, of knowing that Jethro was in control - all these worked together to give Tony a hard-on that was making him squirm. . .albeit silently.
He kept his eyes on the movie, which turned out to be pretty good, and began to stroke his cock to the tempo of the pulsating music. Suddenly a hand clamped down on his fingers, startling Tony into emitting a muted squeak.
Jethro fastened his eyes on Tony much as a hawk might upon its prey. "You do not touch yourself, Tony. You will wait until the gag is off and then I'll take care of you." He lifted Tony's hand from his groin and kissed his knuckles. "Do you understand? We're playing by my rules now."
Tony nodded, he hoped not too vigorously. He could tolerate an hour of being gagged, especially since he was looking forward to whatever Jethro was planning to do to him once the device was removed.
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His cock had softened during the previous hour, but as soon as Jethro turned off the TV and leaned over to remove the gag, Tony hardened once again. He watched Jethro closely, waiting for some kind of cue as the older man leaned over to gently clean a bit of drool off his chin with a corner of the sheet. Tony stretched his jaw muscles and ran his tongue around his mouth. There was some residue of a rubbery taste but it served to remind him of the erotic feel of the gag.
"You okay?" Gibbs peered at Tony, assessing him.
Tony didn't even think about speaking. He'd learned his lesson so he nodded.
"I'll be back in a minute. I'm going to heat up that tea. Stay put." When he returned, Gibbs handed his lover the hot drink. He waited for Tony to drink his fill before taking the mug from him and placing it safely on the bedside table.
Gibbs loved it that Tony was eagerly watching his every move, waiting for him to tell him what he should do next. "Get undressed and make yourself comfortable." He noted that Tony winced a little when he complied. "Your shoulders bothering you?"
Tony's hand reached up to massage his shoulder but he shrugged to convey it was nothing. He remembered, years ago when a rigged car had exploded behind him as he'd run for his life, how every muscle in his body had ached so badly in the aftermath he had barely been able to walk. That was back in the good old days, before he and Gibbs finally figured it out, over five years ago. So much had happened since, but he loved where the road had taken them. These muscle pains would go away by the next day and he wasn't about to let anything interfere with their lovemaking. Any discomfort he'd be feeling tomorrow would not be in his shoulders, he was sure. Tony shivered in anticipation but he didn't make a single sound.
Gibbs noticed Tony's uncharacteristic silence. Such acquiescence after only one hour with a rubber gag in his mouth, he mused. "Maybe I should take this gag with us to work, as incentive," he said. If Tony intended to reply, he never had a chance.
Gibbs straddled Tony and proceeded to kiss him insistently, delving into his mouth with his tongue until he drew out a whimpering moan. When they broke apart, breathing heavily, Gibbs hovered. He gently massaged Tony's shoulders, running his hands along the muscles of his neck with just enough pressure to extract a groan.
"Feels good," Tony said, his eyelids drooping, lips parting in a relaxed smile. "Mmm." Tony opened up his eyes fully and when he focused on Gibbs his expression changed to concern and then to understanding. "I love you, Jethro," he said, with a hint of sadness. "I know I can't tell you not to worry, but…"
"I don't want to lose you, Tony. Not like that. Not any way-."
His words were halted by Tony rising up to kiss him longingly, his hands caressing Jethro's back muscles with long, soothing strokes. "Shhh, it's all right," he whispered. He still sounded like he was speaking with sandpapered vocal chords but at least his throat didn't hurt.
Jethro buried his head in the crook of Tony's neck. He wrapped his arms around Tony, taking in his bulk, the hard planes and soft skin and scent that all added up to the man he loved so much it hurt sometimes. "It's not all right. One wrong move and…"
"Seems I've been making the right moves for some time now." Tony ran his hand through Jethro's hair to settle on the back of his neck, pulling him back for another kiss. "This is so right."
"Shhh…no talking," Gibbs ordered. "Unless you want me to gag you again."
Tony saw Jethro was serious, but he wiggled his eyebrows and was rewarded with a crooked smile.
Jethro moved his hips against those of his lover until he squirmed and rose to meet him with a moan. "Maybe we need to look deeper into your bag of toys sometime, Tony."
"Promises, promises," Tony whispered.
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