Chapter 8

Gibbs woke up and glanced at the clock. It was about two minutes till his wake up call. Standard for him. What wasn't standard was that DiNozzo was draped all over him. They'd started with Gibbs' arm over DiNozzo's chest, that seeming a suitably possessive position. Now he was on his back and DiNozzo had an arm across his chest, and was snuggled up beside him as close as he could get, with one of his legs draped over Gibbs' two. Gibbs was extremely warm, and a little startled to find out what a cuddler DiNozzo apparently was.

The phone rang and Gibbs leaned over to pick it up. "Yeah?"

"This is your wake up call, sir," said a bright, cheery voice.

"Thanks," Gibbs said, and he hung up.

"What is it, Boss?"

"Time for me to get up and on my way," Gibbs said, reaching up and squeezing Tony's arm. "Be good today," he said, then leaned up and gave Tony a quick kiss on the lips before disentangling from the younger man and getting up. He pulled his clothes on and got ready, then walked over to where DiNozzo lay watching him sleepily. "Go back to sleep if you can."

DiNozzo shook his head and sat up. He grabbed the remote. "I think I'll see what's on."

"Rot your brain," Gibbs commented, then he looked over at Mark, who had taken over from Rudy. They'd swapped off periodically through the night. He fixed Mark with a stern glare, but didn't speak. He just glared till the man looked uneasy, then left. He didn't know how Morrow had divided the duties. It was something he'd had to leave in the director's hands under the circumstances. He'd prefer to have Kate and McGee on DiNozzo, but it was out of his hands.

"Gibbs, cough twice if you can hear me," Kate said in Gibbs' ear. He followed the instructions, wondering who they had on DiNozzo's detail. "Good. Just so you know, Garner and Wallace are watching Agent DiNozzo."

Not a bad choice, he thought and left the thought behind. He had to focus on where he was or he'd get himself into trouble.


Tony stretched and used the facilities. Then he went lay back on the bed, turning on the TV and looking for movies. He had his choice of several, but he settled on Beach Blanket Bingo because it was definitely fun to look at the eye candy, and the music was likely to drive his pair of 'bodyguards' insane, especially the one who was napping in the next room. With that in mind, he turned the volume up a bit. Once it was loud enough, he reached out and grabbed the phone. Dialing, he ordered a nice big breakfast from room service.

Mark ignored him, but Rudy got up, came into the room for a moment, looking sleepy and disgruntled, then left again. Tony grinned. His campaign of harassment had begun.

He ate a leisurely breakfast, enjoying the annoyance his guard was showing. He'd already noticed that they seemed to be subsisting on power bars, so his scrambled eggs, sausage and pancakes had to be tantalizing. Muscle mass like those two had wasn't maintained by power bars alone. Rudy was lured into the room again, and he didn't leave this time. He had a book, a Danielle Steele novel. Tony contemplated the various gibes that he could derive from that alone, but decided it was too easy.

The movie ended around nine, and he went surfing for something else. His breakfast was still on its tray, and every so often he'd take another bite of sausage. He paused for a moment on the news, but that got boring fast. He surfed through a variety of children's shows, considered Lamb Chop's Sing-Along as likely to induce madness, but rejected it regretfully. It wouldn't do for him to go crazy, too. Finally, he settled on a morning talk show. He could listen to meaningless babble all day and half the night.

When he'd gotten enough fun out of torturing them with the food he wasn't eating all of, he took the tray to the door and, balancing it on one arm, he opened the door and stepped just far enough outside to set it to one side.

"What are you doing?" Rudy demanded, getting up and jerking him back inside.

Tony looked pointedly at the hand on his arm, and Rudy removed it. "I was putting my tray out. Is that a problem?"

"You don't open that door without asking us first."

Tony rubbed his arm and watched Rudy go back to his chair. Test made and answer clear as day. The grip had left a mark that was definitely going to bruise. Gibbs would be thrilled, Gibson even more so. "I usually go running in the morning," he said.

"Not today," Rudy replied, settling down with his book again. "Today you're going to stay in this room, watch TV and keep quiet."

Tony wandered around behind Mark and looked over his shoulder at the crossword. He'd barely begun it. Tony scanned the later clues for something easy. "Rustier," he said.

"What?" Mark asked. Rudy looked up, brows knit.

"Eighty-two down. 'More corroded.' Rustier."

"I'm not that far yet," Mark said.

"Aretha," Tony replied.

"What?"

"'Soul singer Franklin on eighty-four. Aretha."

"I know that, I haven't got there yet."

"Oh," Tony said innocently. "Just trying to help."

"I don't need your help. Go watch TV."

"Urns," Tony said. "One-oh-three across." When Mark glowered at him, he moved off towards the bed. "I like crosswords."

"Have you lost your marbles, DiNozzo?" a voice muttered in his ear. Tony thought it was Chris Wallace. "Don't antagonize them."

Tony started surfing again and found Spartacus. It suited his mood, so he flopped back and started watching. Rudy got interested, too, and put his book down. Mark cleared his throat about an hour later and said, "Hey, Rudy? Know a five-letter word for 'crosshatches'?"

Rudy shushed him, and Tony said, "Lines."

"No, it starts with an S."

Tony got up and wandered over. "You've got the wrong word on twenty-eight across. Not runs, snag, and that makes twenty-nine down grids."

"Would you both be quiet?" Rudy said.

Tony sighed and went back to the bed to watch. Before the movie was over, he started feeling a little stir crazy. To deal with some of that, he put on some music and started doing stretching and strength building exercises. He finished a round of fifty push-ups and sat back on his knees, grabbing the hand towel he'd taken from the bathroom to wipe his brow. Someone had definitely turned the heat up too high in here. He froze when he saw that he had a visitor.

"Nice to see a young man who cares about his body," Sullivan said, and Tony started to get to his feet, suddenly very aware that he was still only clad in pajama pants. "No, don't get up, boy. There's no need. You belong on your knees anyway."

"Good morning, sir," Tony said, remaining where he was. They were off script, and he didn't know where this was going.

Sullivan turned and made a gesture and Mark brought a chair over and put it where Sullivan pointed, about three feet in front of where Tony knelt. "It's no longer morning," Sullivan said, seating himself. "It's afternoon, but I forgive you the lapse. It's only just past noon."

Tony blinked. He didn't know what to say, but he knew he should say something. "Thank him," Abby hissed in his ear.

"Thank you, sir," Tony said.

"I wanted to see you without that overprotective presence getting in the way," Sullivan said. "Are you afraid of me, boy?"

"Say yes," Abby said. "Or he'll want to do something to make you afraid."

"Not particularly," Tony said. "Sir." He heard Abby make a frustrated noise in the lab and wished he could take the earwig out.

"No?" Sullivan tilted his head, gazing at Tony. After a moment he rose and went around behind him. Without the need to guard Gibbs, Tony had no reason to turn around, and having Sullivan out of sight made him excessively nervous. "Gibson will make a great deal of money today, and he will be indebted to me for the opportunity."

When the silence lengthened enough that Tony knew he should speak, he said, "Yes sir."

"Over the next few weeks that will undoubtedly increase. I have many opportunities to offer for an enterprising man." He walked around front again, his eyes seeking Tony's. "One of these days I will call that debt in, and I may not ask for money."

Tony knew it would never happen, so he wasn't truly alarmed by the statement. He met Sullivan's eyes coolly.

A hand whipped out and grabbed his hair, jerking his head down. "Eye contact is not permitted," Sullivan snapped. "You are not with Gibson now, you are with me."

"I am not yours to command, sir," Tony said. Sullivan's hand tightened in Tony's hair, pulling on his scalp.

"You have utter confidence in Gibson, don't you?" Sullivan said.

"I do, sir."

Sullivan released his hair and took a step back. "Rise." Tony thought for a moment, then did as he was told. "Did you go with him willingly, when he claimed you?"

Tony swallowed. "I did, sir," he said, wishing the twenty questions would end. What the hell was he doing here? Did he think Gibson wouldn't mind?

Sullivan leaned close. He was an inch or so shorter than Gibbs, which put him three inches shorter than Tony, but he didn't lose much in the intimidation arena for his lack of height. In a low, intense voice, he said, "I would take you, force you, willing or not, but in the end, you would serve me eagerly. You would beg to be used and abused."

Tony rolled his eyes, he couldn't help it, and Sullivan hauled back and struck him solidly in the face. Tony took the blow, too startled to know how to react but now ready for a fight. "Don't fight back, Tony!" Abby said, and Tony simply turned back to face front, fists clenched but not moving. If this were real, he would be the submissive to this man's subordinate. It would risk Gibbs' safety to fight back, so he wouldn't dare. He was very glad this wasn't his real life.

"You okay?" Wallace asked, and Tony wondered how he was supposed to answer. He forced himself to relax his fists.

"You do have discipline," Sullivan said. "Remove your pants. Gibson can hardly say this is public. It's your own hotel room."

"I don't think the boss would like it," Tony said.

"I didn't ask if Gibson would like it, I told you to do it."

"I only take orders from Gibson," Tony replied.

Sullivan looked at him thoughtfully, then turned away. "Did he have breakfast?" he asked.

"He called for room service," Mark said.

"You let him make the call?"

"I could see what he was dialing, sir."

Sullivan nodded slowly, then turned back to face Tony. He reached out and started to touch, but drew back at the last moment. Tony had swayed involuntarily backwards, and he was irritated by the reaction. Sullivan smiled. "I'll see you this evening, then," he said. He walked to the door between the two rooms. "Let him order lunch, but dinner will be with me, either way. If you don't hear from me by six, bring him to the club."

"Yes sir," Mark said. Sullivan glanced back at Tony, then left. Tony took a deep breath, then sat down on the floor and started doing stomach crunches. He wasn't letting on that Sullivan's games had affected him in any way.

"Tony, you should have said you were afraid," Abby said, sounding anxious. Tony just kept exercising. It wasn't like he could answer her.

"It wouldn't be in character, Abby," Director Morrow put in, and Tony wondered how long he'd been listening. "Be careful, DiNozzo, but you're doing okay."

Tony still couldn't respond. All he could do was wonder how long Sullivan had been watching him do push-ups. No one had bothered to fill him in on that detail.

Gibbs drove back towards Alexandria, the job completed. Sullivan's friend Martin had needed some high end electronics, military grade stuff. Gibson hadn't asked him what he needed it for, he had made a few calls and taken the guy to a warehouse that was owned by a friendly informant and where the stuff had been hastily delivered by a team from NCIS. It had required rather a long round trip, however, and it was just past six, and he still had at least forty-five minutes before he got back to the hotel.

He called the number Sullivan had given him and the man himself answered. "Gibbs. I just heard from Martin, and he's very satisfied. It seems you are what you claim to be, but you're going to be later getting back than I'd hoped. Come straight to the club. Tony's already on his way here."

"What?" Gibbs exclaimed. His radio contact hadn't been very consistent for the last half hour because Kate was hanging back a bit.

"Dinner is set for six thirty. I'll see you then."

Gibbs slammed the phone shut and glowered at the road. Static in his ear made him growl. "Gibbs, can you hear me?" Kate asked a moment later, not too garbled to understand.

"Yeah. Tony's on his way to the club."

"How did you know?" she asked. "I only just heard from Abby."

"I called Sullivan to update him on my progress."

"Okay, good," she said.

"What's good about it?" Gibbs demanded.

"That he doesn't think you've failed," she said.

"Yeah," Gibbs muttered.

Kate could imagine his glare. "He's speeding up again," McGee said, and Kate sighed. She hated driving with Gibbs. Driving like him so she could keep up was even worse.

He was going to be furious with her later. She was under orders not to tell him about Tony's adventures. Morrow wanted him to come to it the way Gibson would have, cold and clueless. If she was lucky, he'd just kill her.


Tony went to take a shower at five, figuring he'd better be ready before six, in case they hadn't heard from Sullivan and decided to transport him however he was dressed. After locking the door, he stripped and took his earwig out, tucking it into its little compartment in his toothbrush holder. He turned the water up hot and enjoyed the steam as he washed. The door opened before he was through, and he stuck his head out, half expecting Gibbs.

It was Rudy. "Hurry up," he said.

"I'll be out in a minute," Tony replied, but Rudy didn't move. After a moment, Tony drew back behind the shower curtain. He finished quickly and wondered what he was going to do about his earwig with Rudy very much in the way. He reached out and snagged a towel and dried off hastily inside the curtain, wrapping the towel around his hips. "Is something wrong?"

"Sullivan's given orders to bring you to the club now," Rudy said.

Tony needed his earwig. He needed to know how to handle this. "Let me brush my teeth," he said, but Rudy grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the bathroom. "I can't go anywhere in a towel and my clothes are all . . ." He trailed off as he took in the clothing that had been laid out on the bed. There was no doubt it was for him, and he wasn't comfortable with the implications.

"You need to wear these," Rudy said, giving him a shove towards the bed.

Tony looked at the black pants and shirt. "Those aren't mine. Gibson won't like it."

"Do we have to dress you?" Rudy asked. He whipped the towel away, and Tony wasn't sure what to do. The hesitation was enough. Rudy grabbed his arms and Mark picked up the pants. He fought them. He didn't have much choice. He'd given them to understand that he would if touched by a man who didn't have Gibbs' permission.

The pants were exceptionally tight. He'd have had trouble getting them on himself. Mark had some difficulty pulling them up his legs, and it involved a great deal more touching than Tony liked. "Do you dress left or right?" Mark asked finally and Tony glowered at him.

"Left," Rudy said, and Tony didn't think it was a guess. Mark tucked him left and zipped the pants up, buttoning them. They were very expensive, very soft leather, and they fit like a second skin. As soon as they were on, Rudy forced him to his knees to make it easier for them to get the shirt onto him. With two of them, he didn't have much chance. He could call his back up team in, but that would end the op, and it was important. He already knew Gibbs had been successful. Surely Sullivan knew that. This had to be part of the game he was playing.

Finally, he was dressed, and they cuffed his wrists behind him with real cuffs this time. "Gibson is going to be pissed," he said, still kneeling on the floor. They didn't respond. Rudy went into the bathroom and got his collar and put it on him.

"How do you plan to get me to the car?" Tony asked. "I know you're not going to shoot me now."

"You have a choice," Rudy said. "You can go sober, or we can drug you. It's a bit early for you to be drunk, but people will believe it."

"Fine. I'll go sober," Tony said. They pulled him to his feet and let him step into his loafers. Then they uncuffed him, got his coat on him and cuffed him again in front. Tony looked at Rudy. "How subtle is this?"

"Clasp your hands together," Rudy said, digging out a scarf. He draped it over Tony's hands, and he had to admit that it did look fairly natural.

They took him out into the hall and this elevator, too, led straight out onto the garage. He was now more or less without back up. They couldn't hear him, he couldn't hear them. They could and would follow, but until Gibbs showed up, he was on his own. He saw a lot more people on his way to the car this time, but, again, any action on his part would end the op, and he didn't want to do that. He wasn't throwing all the work they'd done away. He let them guide him into the back seat of the car, and Rudy climbed in next to him. The trip to the club wasn't terribly pleasant. They got stuck in traffic for a half hour at least.

They drove into what had to be the underground garage they'd used on his last clandestine entrance into the place. At least this time he could see. They took him upstairs and to the door of the meeting room. There, they uncuffed him and helped him off with first his coat and then his shirt. He slipped out of his loafers, and they forced his arms behind him and cuffed them. Mark opened the door and Rudy led him inside.

Sullivan was already there, but Nathan wasn't. Rudy let go of him and stepped back. Sullivan came forward and looked him over. Tony struggled to remain calm. Being with Mark and Rudy without back up had been alarming enough. Being with Sullivan on his own was a little terrifying. Tony couldn't call for help, there were two men in this room who had proven willing and able to physically control him at Sullivan's order, and the lust in Sullivan's eyes was undeniable. They had a window of between thirty and ninety minutes before the back up team would come in even without a call. A lot could happen in that time, and Tony wouldn't be able to prevent any of it.

Sullivan took in the darkening bruises on Tony's arms and torso and tilted his head. "You fought them, didn't you?" Sullivan said.

"I have my instructions, sir."

"So, if I were to touch you?" he asked.

"I would take whatever steps seemed necessary to prevent that, sir," he said.

"Are you saying you would fight me?" Tony nodded. Sullivan smiled as if the thought pleased him. "Your master was successful in his quest. The clothes were simply a reward intended for him."

Tony managed not to respond in any way that would get him hit again, but he thought Sullivan was an idiot if he thought either Gibbs or Tony would buy that line. He'd wanted to see Tony in skin tight leather, so he'd arranged for him to be dressed in skin tight leather. Nothing hard to grasp about that.

Sullivan walked around behind him, and, again, Tony couldn't turn. "Gibson will be here before long, I should imagine." A quarter landed on the floor in front of him. "Pick that up for me, would you?"

Tony knew exactly what was going on, but he didn't have a real choice. With his hands cuffed behind him, he really only had one option. He went down on his knees and bent over, picking the quarter up with his teeth. Then he rose again, the quarter held securely between his incisors. Sullivan made an appreciative sound deep in the back of his throat. After a moment, he spoke in a urgent voice. "Rudy, bring Nathan in here now." Then he reached around and retrieved the quarter, not touching Tony in doing so.

Rudy left, and for several long moments, there was silence in the room, broken only by the sounds of Sullivan breathing. He was still behind Tony, making him profoundly uncomfortable. He felt the other man drawing closer, the warmth of his body feeling near even if they weren't touching. "Are you afraid of me now, Tony?"

Tony wasn't sure what the right answer was. Tony Vellucci would be absolutely certain that his boss would protect him, at least in theory. Abby would counsel him to say yes, but Tony wasn't sure he could do that, not even though it was almost true at the moment. "No, sir," he said.

The door opened behind them, and Tony knew it had to be Rudy bringing Nathan in. He didn't know whether to be glad of that or more alarmed. "Go, kneel by your master's chair," Sullivan said suddenly, his voice harsh. Tony did as he was told. He could now see Nathan, who was naked. He shot Tony a dark, suspicious look.

"Sir?" Rudy said.

"What?"

"Mr. Howe is just arriving, sir."

Tony felt a surge of relief that he concealed the best he could. "Nathan, kneel by my chair," Sullivan said, and then he left the room.