CHAPTER 12 - Stupid Moves

The first stupid thing Tony did was to make himself a bourbon on the rocks and drink it. The second stupid thing he did was to bundle up against the cold November night air and head over to the police barracks, even though he knew he shouldn't.

The state police quarters had its own kitchen and a small rec room – which is where the guys could usually be found playing cards. Tonight there was only one man there, seated on a ratty old couch, playing a video game. Tony recognized him: State Police Trooper Dorian Gray. He acted surprised to find Dorian there, alone, even though he'd checked on their schedule just that afternoon. That made what he was about to do premeditated, and even though he hated himself, Tony couldn't resist the draw Dorian had on him.

When the SMUT committee had first arrived and was given a tour, Tony was introduced to Trooper Gray. He'd had quoted from the Oscar Wilde classic, The Picture of Dorian Gray. "Your name's Dorian Gray? 'The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it.' My father's favorite quote from the book," Tony had said with a smile. "I'll bet you get that all the time."

Trooper Gray had smiled back, and what a smile it was. "Words to live by," he'd said, amused. The others in the room moved on, going about their duties, leaving Gray and Tony alone.

From the way the trooper had looked right at Tony, it was like he knew him, and knew exactly what he was thinking. Tony had given Gray a once-over, taking in the dark military cut hair, the broad shoulders and well-muscled chest, all nicely packaged in a fitted gray uniform. Yeah, the man was attractive, and tall, taller than him by a couple of inches. To be honest, Tony's immediate thought was to wonder what Gray's cock looked like, if it was uncut and as impressive as the rest of him.

Trooper Gray's smile had broadened in response to being checked out, because Tony wasn't being exactly subtle about his interest.

The second it sunk in that they were pretty much leering at each other, Tony realized he was being an idiot. He did the sensible thing and stepped back, making his expression as neutral as possible. Gray had seemed puzzled by Tony's withdrawal, and a little disappointed. Tony had gone outside and caught up with the others, hoping the trooper would think he'd read him wrong, and that would be the end of it.

But Tony had thought about him most of the day. About his deep brown eyes. Wondering what he'd look like naked, if his balls were big, and how hairy were his thighs. Nothing had triggered this sudden interest, nothing specific. But he sure was horny. Maybe it was because he hadn't been laid for weeks, except during phone sex with Jethro, which was really no excuse at all. Even though getting off with Jethro panting through his headphones had been really, really good, it wasn't the same as feeling rough hands on his bare skin, and the heat of a body pressing against his, smelling the man's scent as you licked your way down his chest, feeling him tense and shudder underneath you as he ejaculated, and the salty taste of his cum as you licked it off his belly before you surged up for a wet, deep kiss.

Tony ran a hand through his hair. Shit. He needed the real thing – always had, and on a regular basis. It was a release, a brief way of connecting with another human being without any strings attached. Tony knew if he took this any further, and if Jethro found out, their relationship would be over; he'd never be forgiven. But then Jethro had known what a slut he was, right from the start. It was no secret that Tony DiNozzo would get into anyone's pants if given half a chance – it was a given. Jethro had known that, going into this relationship. Just the same, it would hurt him really badly to find out Tony was willing to cheat on him, with so little incentive. Hurting Jethro? Damn, Tony didn't want to do that. He couldn't do it, wouldn't.

But he still wanted to see Dorian. Preferably naked. He was attracted to the guy, and desperately wanted to have sex with him. But just because he wanted something didn't mean he had to reach out and take it. 'No' was in his vocabulary, even though he rarely used the word. Tony sighed. Damn it, it would've been so much fucking fun, but it wasn't going to happen.

Still… nothing said a man couldn't dream.

When Dorian looked over his shoulder and saw Tony standing there, his face lit up and he stood, abandoning his video game. "Hey, DiNozzo! Man, I could do with some company."

The other troopers had been called out and he had been left to hold down the fort. Garcia had mentioned it in passing at lunch, and Tony had taken note.

Tony acted surprised. "Oh, so no poker tonight, huh? Not a problem. I should probably make an early night of it." He barely made it to the door before Dorian was beside him, his arm out, blocking him.

"C'mon, stay. Keep me company." Dorian smiled sweetly, with the underlying, 'You know you want it so why fight it?' coming across loud and clear.

Tony hesitated just long enough to make it believable, and agreed. The second he did so, he knew he'd sunk to a new low. "Got anything to drink?"

With a beer in hand, Tony declined to play the video game (Killer Kop Kaos) but agreed to a game of cards. "Can't stay long," he said, knowing this was a stupid (stupid!) thing to do, but he wanted, very badly, to get his fill of Dorian's big smile, to get a good hit of the man's magnetism. He just needed a little something to carry with him back to bed where he would jack off without anyone being any the wiser.

While they played cards, they talked about sports and local politics, and about how the state police force was run compared to NCIS. There came a point when Tony could have called it a night and left. Instead, he asked, "You got anything stronger than beer, Trooper Gray?"

"I'll get us shots on the condition you call me Dorian," he was told.

Tony said, "Dorian," as if trying it on for size, and Dorian's smile made him dizzy with want. Their fingers met when he reached for the shot glass, and a callused trigger finger rubbed across the back of his hand. He knew Dorian had done it on purpose. He took in Dorian's interested looks, the way the man laughed at his jokes, the way he clamped a big hand on his shoulder as he passed by on his way to get them something to snack on. Each small action, every touch, was a small triumph for Tony because he had engineered them.

In return, he'd smiled knowingly at the trooper, licked his lips when deep in thought over the hand he held, and let Dorian catch him checking out his ass, his crotch, his hands. But every prize comes with a price, as his mother used to say. Was a few minutes of sex with this stranger really worth it? Was he so fucking addicted to the sex, the attention, the risk that he couldn't say no? Didn't he care at all about Jethro, the man who said he loved him?

Tony closed his eyes and berated himself, thinking, 'Don't do this. Don't. Think of Jethro. You're gonna ruin everything, you stupid fucked-up asshole.' And then he thought, 'The hell with Jethro! What he doesn't know won't hurt him,' and immediately he came back with, 'You're a fucking idiot, DiNozzo. Gibbs… Jethro knows everything. One look at your guilty face and he'll dump you faster than a hot potato.' But he was already in too deep. Wasn't he?

After a couple of shots, and a few more hands of cards, when Dorian laid his hand on Tony's, to turn over his cards after a play, Tony trembled with fucking need. Jesus, what the hell was wrong with him? He was a fucking piece of work, that's what he was. Why had he been so stupid, so fucking shit-faced stupid to think he'd be able to remain loyal to one person? What made him want to jump the bones of whatever piece of meat waved his dick in his direction? All it took was for the guy to look at him sideways and he folded. A weak-assed submissive piece of fucking fuck-ass shit, that's what he was.

And why the fuck had Jethro trusted him? 'I've gotta tell you, Tony, I've been fucking crazy in love with you since the first moment I saw you.' That's what Jethro had said. Why the hell had he said that? It couldn't be true. Couldn't be. And what had he replied? That he didn't love him back. He felt something for Jethro, he just didn't know what, but he'd denied it. And what had Jethro said to him? He'd said Tony loved him, he knew that. He'd been so confident, Tony had half-believed him at that moment. Fuck, he was so confused.

Standing abruptly, Tony said loudly, "I've gotta head back."

"I'll walk back with you."

"No! No, I'm good."

Dorian smiled again, and it was killing Tony that not only did the man look good enough to eat, but how was it that a simple smile made him want to undo the trooper's belt and reach into his pants? Dorian stood close, way too close, and teased, "It's my professional opinion you've had one too many to drink, and I can't allow you to walk home alone. Why, you might fall into the lake, and I'd never forgive myself."

"Don't worry. I won't fall in." Tony refused to meet Dorian's eyes. He just grabbed his coat and headed out the door. He could hear Dorian behind him along the dirt drive, walking fast to catch up with him, and then his hand was on his upper arm, tight and possessive and scary as shit, and Tony's dick got so fucking hard when the grip tightened even more, which was so fucked up.

He knew if Dorian entered the house, he'd do things there'd be no turning back from… and he'd lose Jethro forever. If he let Dorian in, they'd go upstairs, and he would willingly strip and bend over, holding onto the bedpost, and he'd beg, 'fuck me, please, just fuck me,' until the man stuck his dick in his ass and pounded him until he was fucking done.

He'd regret it. He'd hate himself for doing it. But he'd do it anyway.

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The wind off the lake was chilly, and Tony was frozen by the time they arrived at The Stone House. He stopped at the front door and Dorian released his arm without saying anything. His face was in shadow, but he was watching Tony intently, letting him make the decision all by himself. Tony could tell the man to piss off in that tone his father used, mean and dangerous, or he could do one of those Marine moves Gibbs had taught him, and take the trooper down with a one-two sweep of the legs and a hard push. Instead, he opened the door and they both went inside.

It was quiet. Nobody was around. There was a fire going in the room with the pool table, and Dorian dragged him in there. Tony stumbled, and next thing he knew, his coat was off and he was downing a bourbon he didn't remember pouring. Dorian took the glass from him, stuck it somewhere, and relentlessly pressed him against the heavy pool table. He looked Tony up and down with a predatory gleam in his eyes before focusing on his mouth. It was so fucking hot, Tony groaned.

Then their lips met, and at first Tony thought it was okay, because it was so fucking good to be held tightly and kissed, hard and sloppy, tongues battling, and even though he could hardly breathe he gave in with a moan. Dorian pulled his mouth away with a grunt of satisfaction, as if he'd made a point, as if he'd won something.

He was burning up and his head was swimming. He was fucking drunk. Not good. But fuck, he was so hard – Dorian's hand was on his crotch and he thrust into it. His belt was unbuckled, how'd that happen? His cock was exposed, Dorian's hand gripping him tightly, jacking him off – God, it felt so good.

No, no, this was wrong. Tony mumbled, "Wait. You gotta stop."

Dorian kept pumping his cock, ignoring his plea. "I knew you were a bitch right from the start," he said, his mouth on Tony's neck, teeth grazing his skin.

Tony gasped and finally found the will, the strength (the balls, Jethro would say) to push Dorian off him. He cried out hoarsely, "Hey, I said lay off!"

"C'mon, don't be a wuss," Dorian said, his hands insistently tugging at Tony's pants, setting him off-balance.

"I'm, um…" Tony closed his eyes and made an effort to pull himself together. "No! I can't do this! I'm in a rela- relationship."

Dorian seemed amused. "What's the matter, Tony? You 'fraid your old lady'll find out and get mad at you?"

That broke through the alcoholic haze. Tony pushed Dorian away, hard enough to make the trooper stagger. "No! No, I'm worried that when I tell my partner about this, this mistake I made, he's gonna come after you. And he's no old lady."

"No? You sure you want to do that? 'Cause you weren't exactly slow about coming on to me," Dorian said with a smile. "You're an easy fuck, aren't you, Tony? You want it so bad you can taste it, and you get all weak whenever I touch you. I can smell your need from six feet away. I know your type. It's obvious your old man can't satisfy you, and you came to me, knowing I'm gonna show you a good time."

Tony shook his head and swayed in place. "No, he's a big bad fuckin' ex-Marine with a really bad temper. He's a… a sniper, bes' there is. Jus' go back to your barracks. You go now."

"You telling me what to do?" Dorian asked with a dangerous glint in his eye.

"Yeah. Yeah, I am. Piss off." Tony pulled his pants up and tucked his cock back in, hating that he was half-hard. He fumbled and had trouble with the zipper but managed to get it pulled up.

"C'mon, Tony, just a bit of fun," Dorian enticed, reaching out and rubbing Tony's erection through his pants. "You feel so good. I know you want it. And besides, you don't have to tell him. Nobody'll ever know."

"I'll know. He'll know. So I can't. I won't. And I… shouldn't have made you think we'd be fuckin' anytime soon. My fault. But it'll never happen."

Dorian stared, as if he couldn't believe he was being turned down.

Tony walked over to the front door and held it open. Admittedly he wasn't all that steady, but his voice was strong. "If you speak about this to anyone, I'll have to tell my old man your name, and then… well, I sure wouldn't wanna be in your shoes. And if you survive, you'll end up stationed up by the border… and even if I am a really good fuck, it's not gonna be worth it. I'm not worth it."

For a moment, Tony thought that he was going to have a fight on his hands, but all of a sudden Dorian sighed and said, "Sorry you feel that way." He walked past Tony and out the front door without another word.

Once the trooper had left, Tony locked it the door, and leaned against it with a great sigh.

He was bent over the kitchen sink, rinsing his mouth out, when someone handed him a clean towel. He turned and found it was Joanna. "Uh, thanks."

"You have a good time?" she asked with one eyebrow lifted into an elegant arch.

"Up to a point," Tony admitted, flushing under the CIA agent's steady gaze. "I drank too much."

Her eyes dropped to Tony's mouth. "Were you coerced?"

"What? No. Not at all." He really didn't want to cause Dorian any trouble. "I was acting… stupid."

After a moment, Joanna said, with a smile, "He's what we used to call a wolf."

Tony was embarrassed that she'd figured out what had been going on. He managed a small smile in reply. "Seems to fit. And, don't take this the wrong way, but I asked for it. I… really wanted it. But not with him. Took me a while to understand that."

"But you told him 'No,'" she said, as if ascertaining the facts.

Shit, how much of it had she heard, or witnessed? "I did. I… almost didn't."

She nodded as if she understood. "Can I make you some coffee?"

"No, it'll keep me awake. I need to sleep it off. But thanks." Tony said good night and slowly went up to bed. After brushing his teeth and drinking a glass of water, Tony placed a plastic trashcan beside his bed, just in case; the bourbon and shots weren't sitting well in his stomach.

He lay in bed for a while but couldn't sleep. He thought about what a fuck-up he was, how nobody should want him, how his father had been right, all those years ago, to call him a loser. A glance at the clock told him it wasn't even midnight. Might as well get it over with, he thought, as he reached for his phone. It took a lot of courage to dial the familiar number, but he did it. "Hey, Jethro?"

There was a moment of silence before Jethro asked tersely, "What's wrong?"

"Nothin'…"

"You've been drinking."

How the hell did he figure that out? "Yeah." Tony played with the edge of the sheet. "I'm not drunk. Not that drunk. I mean I know I've drunk, drinked, but…" He paused. "I'm sorry," he said in a quiet voice.

"What's going on?" Jethro asked cautiously.

"I… There was this man." Tony stopped. He didn't want to do this but he knew he had to, and once he began, it all came rushing out. "I told you, you shouldn't trust me, that I didn't trust myself. I warned you, Jethro! I'm fucked up and you wouldn't listen to me–"

"Hey! Tony, stop. Take it slow. Just… tell me what happened," Jethro said, sounding unusually calm, and even sort of… nice. "Let me help you."

For some reason, that hit Tony hard and he started to tear up. He tried to blame it on the booze, but he knew it wasn't that. The Gibbs he knew wasn't nice, he reminded himself. "Don't be nice to me," he whispered. He didn't deserve it.

Jethro snorted softly. "I love you, Tony. You know how much."

"I guess."

"I can hear you're hurting and I hate to hear that."

"I don't want to hurt you either but… I need to tell you this," Tony said, angrily wiping a tear from his cheek.

"I'm listening."

Taking a ragged breath, Tony began. "One of the guys here... I came on to him. I kept telling myself not to do it but…"

"He a recruit?"

"God no, he's a state trooper. I… we… I drank too much and I could tell he wanted… sex. But I left, walked home, and he followed me. Took my arm, like really tight, and I… something came over me and I know I was being an idiot but I didn't tell him to let go of me, and I could've taken him down, but…" Tony could hear Jethro breathing on the other end of the line, sort of heavy, and he knew this was upsetting him, so he hurried up and finished his confession. "I let him in. He was all over me, and we were kissing. But I thought…" God, this was hard. "I… I told him to get out."

"Did he get out?" Jethro asked, not sounding very nice anymore.

"Yeah. He won't be back," Tony said, exhausted. "I wanted him, for sex, and I don't know why. I kept telling myself it was wrong, and I couldn't do this to you, but then… I wanted it. It was really hard to stop it. But I did. Before anything happened." Jethro didn't respond, but he could hear him pacing. "Jethro? What do I do now?" More silence. "Jethro, talk to me! I don't know what to do."

"When are you coming home?"

All of a sudden, Tony was tired, totally drained. "Um, in a week. Monday. I'm… I'm going to go straight home. And… if you decide you don't want to work with me any longer, I'll understand," Tony said, every word hurting his heart a bit more than the last. He had to offer Jethro a way out though. He'd messed up and Jethro shouldn't have to suffer because of that.

Jethro asked angrily, "What the hell are you talking about? Home?"

"Yeah, to my condo," Tony replied, not sure why Jethro was mad about that.

"Your home is with me! And why the hell do you think I don't want to work with you any longer?" Jethro demanded.

"I don't know! Because I was ten seconds away from letting a stranger drill my ass?"

"Fuck! Tony, sometimes I just want to slap your head clean off!"

"Then do it! You think this doesn't hurt? That I don't know I've fucked up a good thing, the best thing that ever happened to me? I'm so stupid, and I've ruined everything, and…" Tony hiccupped and all of a sudden he leaned over the side of the bed and vomited in the waste can. He slipped out of bed and heaved until there was nothing left, and then just about crawled to the bathroom and washed all the crap out of his mouth and nose, and off his face. He had to pee and his knees felt weak as he stood in front of the toilet. Then he sniffed and blew his nose, and stood staring at his ugly face in the mirror with its red eyes, pink nose and blotchy skin. All of a sudden, everything hit him at once, overwhelmed him, and he crouched down and let it all out, muffling his sobs in a towel until the tears subsided.

Once he had cleaned up the waste can – luckily it had a plastic bag in it – and took it down to the large trash can near the back door because it stank too much to leave around, he returned to bed. It was at that point he realized he was lying on his phone. It was still lit up, and he was about to click the button to disconnect when he heard, "Tony, you okay?"

"Jethro? I thought you'd have hung up."

"Of course not! I don't leave anyone hanging."

Tony swallowed and willed the tears threatening to return to go away. He smiled, though, because that was so Jethro. "I'm okay now," he said quietly.

"You listen to me, Tony. I knew when I took you on this wasn't going to be the smoothest of rides. What I didn't know was that you were going to quit and run the first time something tough came down the road."

"I'm not quitting–"

"Damn right, you're not! I won't put up with it. I know you've spent all your adult life hopping from one bed to another, but the minute you walked into my house and slept with me, in my bed, that past life of yours was over. It's done. You did the right thing by telling that man 'no'–"

"I told him my old lady was a Marine sniper," Tony said.

Jethro muttered something unintelligible. "Okay, that's good," he said aloud. "And you'd be best to remember that, too. I take care of my own. You want me to come up there?"

"No!"

"Then you're gonna behave for the next week. Stay away from the troopers. Keep your eyes on the goal, and finish the job you went up there to do. And when you're done, you're coming back here, to our home."

"Your home."

"No. Ours. I want you to live with me."

"So you can keep an eye on me?" asked Tony, being a touch belligerent.

"So we can wake up together and I can fuck you every morning when you're still half asleep, with your hair sticking up and sleep in your eyes."

"Wow, that's a lovely image," Tony said with a brittle laugh.

"You don't get it, do you? I love you when you're at your best. But I really love you when you're at your worst. And… that sounds more fucked up than it's supposed to."

Starman, Tony thought. "'You're at your very best when things are at their worst.' Only I'm not feeling at my best right now. I'm feeling pretty stupid, and like I broke something good, and for no good reason. There's no telling what I'll do next."

"I trust you, Tony. I expect you to do what's right. Do you understand that?"

"Not really. I… I don't know why you give a shit," Tony said, barely able to speak, tears welling up again.

"I love you. Always have, always will. Now, you get some rest and call me in the morning."

"Okay."

"I mean that."

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Night, Tony. I love you."

"I'm sorry, Jethro. I'm really sorry."

"I still love you."

Tony hung up, wondering how Jethro could still say those words.

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