Gigi Sinclair

Gibbs came home to find his front door ajar.

Flattening himself against the outside wall, Gibbs drew his weapon and took a deep breath. He'd always been aware of this possibility. He hadn't made too many friends lately, and there was always a chance one of them would come back for revenge. If anything, the recent case with the rejected sniper applicant picking off Marine recruiters had cemented the possibility in Gibbs's mind. Not everyone he'd pissed off was behind bars, and those people didn't tend to forget.

Gibbs counted to five, slowly, then eased the front door the rest of the way open. Keeping his gun raised, he glanced around the front hall, and saw nothing. Silently, he crept forward, scanning for threats. He didn't see anything, but just as he was about to move onto the kitchen, there was a sound from his bedroom and a voice called: "In here, boss."

Scowling, Gibbs re-holstered his gun. "Goddamn it, DiNozzo," he began, and stopped mid-harangue when he saw Tony, standing in front of the mirror in Gibbs's bedroom. In full Marine uniform, complete with cap on his too-long hair, even though everyone knew you didn't wear cover indoors.

Gibbs swallowed hard and forced himself to snap: "What the hell are you doing?"

DiNozzo grinned. "I figured out why you picked Cait to play the part of your CO instead of me. At first, I thought it was 'cause you couldn't stand to call me 'sir', even to catch a killer." DiNozzo stepped forward. The medals were in the right order, Gibbs noticed, unlike Cait's, and there was a gunnery sergeant's insignia on the lapels. "Then I realized the truth. Seeing this uniform makes you as hot as the next red-blooded American patriot, and you knew if you saw it on me, you couldn't control yourself."

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about," Gibbs looked away, but not soon enough to avoid DiNozzo's smirk.

"Oh no?" He closed the rest of the space between them and put a hand on Gibbs's shoulders. Leaning forward, he lowered his mouth to Gibbs's ear and murmured: "Then how come you can't look at me?"

Gibbs stepped away, roughly shoving DiNozzo backwards. DiNozzo was clearly caught off-guard, and Gibbs caught a glimpse of genuine surprise in his eyes. "That would be because this," Gibbs pointed at the uniform, "Is a representation of the finest organization in the finest country in the goddamn world. It is not some kind of freaky sex toy, and if you had any sense of goddamn respect, you'd know that." He left DiNozzo gaping after him, speechless for once. Unfortunately, Gibbs wasn't in the ideal mood to appreciate it.

Jethro Gibbs had known he wanted to be a Marine since he was seven years old. He saw every birthday as bringing him one year closer to attaining his goal, and, as he grew older and realized he was different from his classmates in other ways besides his commitment to his dream, his dedication didn't waver. Being attracted to men, being turned on more by muscle-bound football players than by busty giggling cheerleaders, wasn't going to put a wrench in Jethro Gibbs's works, no sir. The day the Marine recruiter told him he'd been accepted was the best day of his life, and Gibbs wasn't about to let his private dreams about how that recruiter's mouth would feel around his cock interfere with anything. He could repress his desires. He was strong.

Or so he thought, until he arrived at basic training and found himself surrounded by young, painfully attractive men twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, in the showers and in the gym and the dormitory. Tight, firm asses bouncing in front of him on route marches and hard, muscular bodies pressing against him as they wrestled on the mats. Pure torture.

When Gibbs realized how powerful his urges were, and what would happen if he ever slipped up and revealed them, he started to cultivate an aggressive heterosexuality. He dated any woman who looked at him twice and married the ones he liked best. For a while after each wedding, he managed to convince himself that he'd finally conquered his demons. Then, he'd meet a new batch of fresh-faced, long-legged recruits, or he'd walk into the gym when a particularly well-developed corpsman was peeling off a sweaty T-shirt, and it would be the beginning of the end for that marriage. Not because he ever did anything with the men, of course, but cheating in your heart was just as bad as cheating in reality, no matter what Jimmy Carter had to say on the subject. And Jethro Gibbs didn't cheat.

Then, as he got older, Gibbs began to wonder for the first time if it had been worth it. If the job satisfaction he'd had in the Marines made up for a lifetime of never having what he really wanted and never being able give his wives what they deserved. And just as he was seriously starting to think about that, he met Tony DiNozzo.

Who was irritating, infuriating, and a civilian, even if he was Gibbs's subordinate. Which was why, when a drunken DiNozzo leaned in too close at Ducky's impromptu birthday party---organized, of course, by Abby, which was the only reason Gibbs had gone---whispered: "Know something, Boss? I really like you," and puked six inches from Gibbs's shoes, Gibbs didn't panic. He sent DiNozzo the cleaning bill for the splashback on his pant leg, and he made sure to clatter around unnecessarily the next morning, as DiNozzo sat in his cubicle with the lights off and an icepack on his forehead, but Gibbs didn't panic. Several months later, Gibbs even screwed his courage to the sticking place and did what he'd wanted to do for nearly thirty years. When they were filing evidence late one night, Gibbs put his hand on another man's cock, in a strictly non-accidental way and, to Gibbs's enormous shock, the man in question in question didn't punch him out. Instead, DiNozzo groaned: "Oh, shit, I knew I said something at that damn birthday party," but complied willingly, eagerly even, when Gibbs ordered him to come for a coffee.

DiNozzo been complying pretty eagerly with all the orders and suggestions Gibbs had delivered since then. Gibbs smiled despite himself as he thought of DiNozzo, all excited to get his hands on a uniform. DiNozzo didn't know what it had been like being a gay serviceman in the days before don't ask, don't tell, when the rule was more "keep your mouth shut or get killed." He couldn't imagine it, because, even with his history, DiNozzo could be astoundingly naïve, and Gibbs had never felt the urge to share his innermost feelings and painful past experiences with DiNozzo. In any case, that chapter of Gibbs's life was closed. He was an ex-Marine now, and technically, anything he did in the bedroom---or the living room, or the kitchen, not that he was looking for a repeat of that one anytime soon---was strictly his own affair.

Even if his affair did involve a subordinate agent. Even if that subordinate agent was currently in Gibbs's bedroom, taking off a Marine uniform because Gibbs didn't want to be reminded of all the years he'd been surrounded by temptation he couldn't touch.

Of course, Gibbs thought, he could touch now. There was nothing and no one to stop him going back into the bedroom and doing whatever he wanted to Agent DiNozzo. In fact, DiNozzo himself would happily lap it up.

By the time Gibbs realized the true depths of that pun, he was standing in his bedroom doorway again.

DiNozzo had undone the uniform shirt nearly to his navel, and the pants were up, but unbuttoned, the cap tilted back on his head.

It was everything Gibbs had ever wanted, from the time he was first recruited into the Marines to last weekend when DiNozzo blew him in front of "Apocalypse Now", fused together like that ridiculous sushi-and-steak combo DiNozzo had talked him into getting last time they had takeout. Lust hit Gibbs like a fist to the gut, and he stepped forward, stopping DiNozzo's hands with his own.

"Boss?" DiNozzo raised his eyebrows, but Gibbs shook his head. DiNozzo was far too damn fond of talking.

Gibbs slid to his knees in front of DiNozzo, the motion a little jerkier than it would have been in years past, but that didn't seem to bother DiNozzo any. He grunted loudly as Gibbs pressed his lips to the agent's stomach. DiNozzo stumbled backwards, the back of his knees hitting the edge of Gibbs's bed. He fell onto the mattress, and Gibbs was quite pleased with his own suavity as he pulled down the uniform pants and the non-regulation red boxers underneath and took DiNozzo's cock into his mouth.

The first time Gibbs had done it, it had felt so strange as to be surreal. But he'd always enjoyed this particular act; one of his wives and more than a few of his girlfriends had been experts at it. It didn't take long for Gibbs to realize that if he did the same things to DiNozzo as he himself enjoyed, then DiNozzo would moan and grunt and swear like a Marine.

This time, Gibbs sucked hard, pressing his tongue against the bottom of DiNozzo's cock and sliding his lips up and down the length, until DiNozzo gasped: "Fuck, boss." Gibbs knew what that meant. Right away, he pulled off. This was great, more fun that he'd ever have imagined, even as it did make him appreciate those women's talents even more, but it wasn't what Gibbs wanted tonight.

DiNozzo gave a dissatisfied snort when Gibbs sat up and wrenched open a drawer in the bedside table. He opened his eyes when Gibbs settled back on the bed, ripping open a condom with his teeth and expertly unrolling it onto DiNozzo. That was something they had taught in the Marines, although Gibbs didn't think the ancient Navy doctor who'd run his VD training session had quite imagined him putting the lessons to use this way.

DiNozzo started to make the strange, whimpering sounds that reminded Gibbs of his second wife, although he wasn't about to mention that out loud, when Gibbs squirted a handful of lubricant into his palm and slapped it haphazardly onto DiNozzo's cock. Gibbs leaned down and pressed his lips against DiNozzo's, slipping his tongue into DiNozzo's mouth, distracting DiNozzo while Gibbs unbuckled his pants and positioned himself.

Unless you counted a few experiments with sex toys and his third wife, Gibbs had been a virgin before DiNozzo, which had embarrassed and inhibited DiNozzo to a ridiculous degree. It had taken three go-rounds with Gibbs on top, a bottle of liquor and a lot of convincing before Gibbs finally got what he'd always wanted, and even then, DiNozzo wouldn't stop asking if Gibbs was OK. Finally, as DiNozzo's cock nudged his prostate and sent a jolt of pleasure through his body, Gibbs had growled: "I've never been this OK in my life." It had shut DiNozzo up, but it had also put a different look into DiNozzo's eyes, one Gibbs wasn't sure he wanted to see.

It was back now, as Gibbs fucked himself on DiNozzo's dick. Gibbs ignored it, instead looking down at the dishevelled uniform and the cap that had fallen off DiNozzo's head and was lying on the bedspread beside him. DiNozzo didn't last long. A minute later, he gasped the telltale: "Fuck, boss," and came, his cock twitching inside Gibbs. That was a feeling Gibbs didn't think he'd ever get tired of.

DiNozzo was still panting through the aftershocks when Gibbs followed him over the edge, splattering semen onto the uniform. Have to get that drycleaned before DiNozzo took it back to wherever it had come from.

It never took long for DiNozzo to regain the power of speech. Gibbs was lying with his eyes closed, on the verge of dozing, when he said: "So, I, uh, I guess that particular fantasy's a keeper, huh boss?"

Gibbs opened his eyes. DiNozzo's face was next to his on the pillow, which meant that at some point they'd re-oriented themselves on the bed. "It was something I had to get out of my system."

DiNozzo laughed. Gibbs felt a hand on his chest, and then lips on his shoulder.

It was probably the post-orgasmic haze, he thought, but he was suddenly seized by the urge to explain himself to DiNozzo. "I thought the guy might suspect the bulletproof glass," he said, well aware that, as pillow talk, it wasn't exactly stellar. "I thought he might change his MO and just shoot me. I didn't want you there for that." Ridiculous as it seemed, he'd known DiNozzo would be safer outside that recruiting office, and that was where Gibbs had stationed him. In the end, it was DiNozzo who'd ended up doing the shooting, which just proved, Gibbs thought, how stupid his unprofessional protectiveness had been.

Since DiNozzo wasn't one to pass up a chance to prove himself, Gibbs expected him to be angry, or at least annoyed, that Gibbs had kept him away from what Gibbs was sure he'd seen as the "real action." Instead, the hand on his chest slid lower, resting on his ribcage. "Next time," DiNozzo said, mouth moving against Gibbs's skin, "Wear the vest, even if it makes you look fat."

Gibbs laughed, loudly enough to surprise even himself.

"You OK, boss?"

Gibbs couldn't resist. Running a finger over the uniform buttons, he murmured: "Yes, sir," and pulled DiNozzo on top.