Damage: 11. Daylight Part One

 

 

Vance paced up and down the hallway, with long, impatient strides.

“What the hell is taking them so long?” he growled.

Gibbs was sitting on a bench with his back against the wall and his legs up on a chair he’d commandeered from somewhere, looking completely unfazed by the long wait.

“It’s a big case, Leon,” he said with a shrug. “A high ranking Naval officer – an *admiral* for God’s sake – up on child sex offence charges. The media interest alone is piling the pressure on them; they know they have to reach the right verdict.”

“And will they?” Vance asked, leaning against the wall and looking at Gibbs searchingly. He had thrown everything he had at this investigation, and he was pinning everything on the outcome of this court martial.

“Hell yes,” Gibbs said, with an impatient flick of his head.

“Parrish had some pretty convincing character witnesses.”

“And we provided enough evidence to sink him, Leon. Quinn’s testimony alone was damning.”

“Thanks to you.” Vance sat down. He had no idea how Gibbs had got Quinn to testify against Parrish, but he guessed that he’d terrified the man into it. Quinn had certainly sung like a canary in the court room. “You did a good job on this case, Jethro,” Vance said quietly.

Gibbs turned to look at him. “I had to, Leon.”

Vance got a toothpick out of his pocket and stuck it between his teeth. It immediately made him feel better. “Yeah,” he agreed. “You did. We all did.”

And they had. Gibbs had been working his team into the ground for months. They had worked most weekends, and Vance didn’t think that any of the team, but especially Gibbs, had taken more than a day or two off in all that time. The prosecution team told him that Gibbs had provided more evidence, of greater detail, than they had needed to make the case and present it in court.

At that moment, Justin stepped into the hallway, his mother and boyfriend beside him as they had been throughout. He was a tall, skinny, blond kid, with a little ginger goatee. His boyfriend was just as tall and skinny, but darker.

“Justin. Mrs. Merrells. Liam.” Gibbs nodded at them. “How you holding up?” he asked Justin.

“Okay, I guess,” Justin shrugged. “Do you think it’ll be much longer?”

“I don’t know, Justin. I hope not.”

Vance stood up. “You did a good job in there, Justin,” he said. “Took a lot of guts.”

Justin’s pale skin flushed, but he looked pleased by the praise.

“When Agent Gibbs told me that Parrish had done the same stuff to Agent DiNozzo and a whole bunch of other kids that he did to me, I knew I had to testify,” he replied. “How’s Agent DiNozzo doing?” Justin asked Gibbs.

“He’s doing fine,” Gibbs replied, with a flash of a smile. “One day he might even forgive me for talking you into testifying.”

Justin gave a little grin in response. “You can be pretty persuasive, Agent Gibbs. It was the right thing to do though. Tell Agent DiNozzo I’m okay – and that I appreciate him looking out for me.”

“It’s just a pity Parrish pleaded not guilty so you had to take the stand,” Vance grunted. Parrish’s lawyer had given Justin a tough ride on the witness stand. Luckily both his mom and his boyfriend were supportive, and he seemed to be handling the pressure.

Tony had been prepared to testify, but it hadn’t been necessary in the end. Vance thought his agent had done enough in any case. It had been Tony’s original statement that had led them to Quinn’s storage locker, and the information they’d found there had blown open the entire pedophile ring. Gibbs had made three other arrests and identified several of the remaining boys in the photographs. Quinn had already been tried and convicted – unlike Parrish, he’d pleaded guilty, so the trial had been quicker and less painful for all concerned.

Parrish’s court martial was the big one – he was a high-ranking, serving Naval officer, and Gibbs had personal reason to see that justice was done. Vance had never seen Gibbs more driven or obsessive. The man even frightened him at times, and Vance wasn’t a man who frightened easily.

There was a sudden movement in the doorway, and they were called back in. Vance took his seat and watched as Parrish stood. He was dressed in full military dress uniform, complete with the many medals and decorations he’d acquired during his long and distinguished Navy career. How could a man be so brave and yet such a monster? It confounded all Vance’s values. He didn’t understand it; he didn’t think Gibbs did, either.

Parrish looked so tall and certain, every inch the war hero, standing there in his uniform. It would take a brave jury to convict him. Vance felt all his old doubts returning – no matter how good a case Gibbs had made, there was still a chance that Parrish would walk. Not that he’d walk far; Vance was sure of that, judging by the look Gibbs had worn on his face these past few months. That was a headache Vance didn’t want. He had no doubt at all that Gibbs could kill a man and dispose of the evidence without trace, and he wouldn’t blame him for taking the law into his hands in this instance, but Vance didn’t want anything leading back to the agency. This was too high profile a case, with too much media interest, for any of them to survive that.

Vance bit down hard on his toothpick and felt it snap in two. Only he and Gibbs from NCIS were in court today to witness this. The rest of Gibbs’s team were finishing up the paperwork for one of the other cases while DiNozzo – well, Vance wasn’t sure where DiNozzo was. He assumed that Gibbs had arranged for him to be kept out of the way somewhere, because Tony DiNozzo hadn’t made an appearance at Parrish’s trial or Quinn’s sentencing. Give Gibbs his due, he might be a hard bastard, but he’d protected his boy throughout this entire ordeal.

The charges were read out again, and Vance closed his eyes, waiting to hear the verdict. He worried away at the two woody shards of the toothpick with his tongue.

“Guilty.”

He almost didn’t register it. The other charges were read out, one after the other, and he heard the same word after each one: “Guilty.”

The court room erupted in a buzz of stunned reaction. Justin’s mom wept into her handkerchief, and Justin’s boyfriend swept him up into a hug.

Vance turned to look at Gibbs, but the man just sat where he was, unmoving, gazing at Parrish’s back with a stare that could penetrate stone. The admiral stood there, just as unmoving as Gibbs, nothing about his body language betraying his feelings about the verdict. Vance wondered if Parrish could feel Gibbs’s hard stare slicing through his shoulder blades.

“Guilty – guilty on all charges,” Vance said, feeling a huge sense of relief coursing through his body. He spat out the remains of the toothpick into his hand and shoved it into his jacket pocket. “Christ, Jethro, we did it. You did it. That bastard is going to go down for years for this.”

Gibbs’s eyes flickered. “Oh yeah. Guilty on these charges and all the others – the ones we couldn’t bring,” he growled softly, still not taking his stony gaze off Parrish.

“Isn’t this enough?” Vance asked.

The savage flare of fury in Gibbs’s eyes told him that it wasn’t. Not for Gibbs.

“He’s lost everything he loves, Jethro,” Vance pointed out. “The uniform, the status – he goes from admiral to convicted felon overnight – and for someone like him, that has to hurt.”

At that moment Parrish finally moved. He turned, slowly, to stare straight at Gibbs. Gibbs stared back at him. Vance froze. It was like a snake looking at a wolf.

Parrish’s icy stare said everything: You have ruined me. When I am free, I will come after you.

Gibbs’s reply was equally clear: If you do, I’ll be waiting for you.

Parrish gave Gibbs a slow, macabre grin of pure malice and mouthed the word “squeal” at him. Gibbs’s jaw tightened, and his eyes narrowed. Vance thought that if it was possible for a man to be killed by a look, then Parrish should have dropped dead in that instant. Then the moment passed, and Parrish turned back.

“He won’t have an easy time of it in jail, Jethro,” Vance said softly. “They don’t much care for child molesters where he’s going.”

“Hell, Leon, they don’t much care for child molesters any damn place,” Gibbs growled, getting to his feet. “You know, I think I’ve had my fill of Matthew Parrish. Let me know what the sentence is when it comes in. I have someplace else I want to be right now.”

Vance put a hand on his arm. “You’re right – you do. Go home. Don’t come back to the office for a couple of weeks. Get some rest – you’ve earned it.”

Gibbs made an irritable motion with his head. “I have work to do.”

“The only work you need to do for the next two weeks is on that damn boat of yours,” Vance told him. “I’m giving your team the time off too. You’ve been working them into the ground, Jethro.”

“Not down to me, Leon. I never once asked them to work the hours they’ve been putting in. They did that all by themselves.”

Vance nodded. Gibbs turned to go.

“Hey, Jethro – give my regards to DiNozzo,” Vance said. Gibbs paused and then turned back, with one eyebrow half-raised. Vance grinned and shrugged. “He’s still staying with you, isn’t he?”

Gibbs’s expression hardened. “I don’t think he’ll ever be leaving, Leon. You have a problem with that?”

Vance laughed out loud. “After what that boy’s been through? Hell no! There might be some details you and I should figure out, but that can wait. Go home – tell him he can sleep easy now. We all can.”

“Not me,” Gibbs growled.

Vance sighed. “Gianni Marconi?”

“While he’s still out there, some kid somewhere is in danger.” Gibbs made a little clicking sound with his jaw. “He’s a murderer and a child rapist, Leon.”

“The man probably died years ago.”

“Well, until I find out for sure I’ll keep on looking,” Gibbs shrugged.

Vance sighed. He supposed he hadn’t really expected anything else. Gibbs had been following up leads on Marconi since Quinn’s arrest, but so far he’d only found dead-ends.

“Fine. Just let yourself enjoy this victory for now though – okay?”

Gibbs gave a tight little shrug and then managed a half-grin. “Okay,” he agreed.

“Oh – and Jethro?” Vance called him back one last time. Gibbs raised an exasperated eyebrow at him. “Don’t talk to the press on your way out.”

Gibbs laughed out loud at that. He had become something of a minor media celebrity for his curt, borderline rude replies to their questions. Vance had stepped in quickly to ensure he was the official ‘voice’ of the agency, but not before a couple of videos of Gibbs’s responses to some of their more inane questions had become instant YouTube classics.

“My lips are sealed, Leon. This is your moment.”

Vance watched him go over to Justin and talk to him and his mom for a few minutes, and then Gibbs slipped quietly out the door. It wasn’t his moment – it was NCIS’s moment – and Vance was so damn proud of his agency.

His agency, the people in it who had worked around the clock to get this result, and that man walking out of the room right now whose unshakeable thirst for justice had driven this investigation from the beginning.

Vance was proud enough to burst.

 

~*~

 

It was late when Gibbs got home. It was an unseasonably hot spring evening, and the house was in darkness when he opened the door. He walked through to the living room and saw the lights shining on the back patio.

Tony and Alessandro DiNozzo were sitting out there, talking quietly, enjoying the warm weather. Tony was sitting back in his chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him, nursing a beer. Alessandro was sitting next to the remains of a barbecue which was still smoking gently. He was wearing an NCIS baseball cap and was sipping a glass of bourbon. There were a couple of empty dinner plates on the table between them.

Both men looked up when he opened the patio door.

“Hey,” Gibbs said quietly, looking at Tony.

“Hey.” Tony looked back at him, and they gazed at each other in silence for a long moment. “So we’re done,” Tony said quietly.

“Yeah. We’re done.” Gibbs nodded.

“Good.”

Alessandro looked from Gibbs to Tony and back again. “That’s it? Do you two talk in code? Anyone gonna fill me in on what happened? Did that bastard go down?”

“He went down,” Tony said.

“And you know this how?”

“He knows because if Parrish had walked, I wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye,” Gibbs replied. Tony gave him a small, tight smile and Gibbs knew they were both remembering Tony’s meltdown in the elevator months ago, and the promise Gibbs had made to him that day.

“That and the fact he came home,” Tony added. “If Parrish had walked, he’d have arrested him for something else the minute he set foot outside that court room. Wouldn’t have been your fault if he’d walked though, Jethro; you put together a hell of a case.”

“My case, my investigation…my insistence that you tell me all about it in the first place,” Gibbs shrugged. He leaned down and planted a kiss on Tony’s head and then pulled up a chair and sat down on it with a weary sigh.

“Bourbon?” Alessandro asked, holding up the bottle.

Gibbs nodded. He’d come to have a genuine respect for Tony’s father. He might have failed Tony twenty-five years ago, but he hadn’t failed him now.

He’d made every effort to patch up relations with his son these past few months. He’d put everything in his life on hold in order to spend time with Tony, including his business. And, as he’d promised, he hadn’t made any judgement about his son’s relationship with Gibbs. In fact, he and Gibbs got on rather better than Gibbs suspected Tony was comfortable with. They had a lot in common.

Tony went into the house and returned with a glass. Alessandro poured the bourbon into it, and Gibbs swallowed it down in one gulp. Alessandro didn’t say a word; he just poured another measure of bourbon into the glass and then sat back.

“How’s Justin?” Tony asked.

Gibbs and Tony had fought several times on this issue. Tony had never wanted Justin dragged into a trial, but Gibbs wanted Parrish to face charges for actual sexual abuse rather than just possession of child porn.

“He’s fine. He’s tougher than he looks. Vance was more uptight – you should have seen him pacing. I think he went through an entire jar of toothpicks today.” He gave a wry chuckle and knocked back the rest of his bourbon. Alessandro poured him some more. “Justin’s just relieved it’s all over.”

“Does he regret agreeing to testify?” Tony asked.

“No,” Gibbs said shortly, with a challenging stare in Tony’s direction. “And you’ve changed your tune. Last time we talked about this, you called it ‘being bullied into testifying by…’ what were your exact words, Tony?”

Tony grinned. “Oh, you haven’t forgotten.” He glanced at his father, who raised an eyebrow. “I called him an obsessive-compulsive justice junkie,” he explained. Alessandro gave a little laugh.

“Well, if the shoe fits, Jethro.”

“It does,” Gibbs grunted. “Your son knows me far too well.”

“You eat anything?” Tony asked. “We could fire up the barbecue again – still got a couple of steaks left – and there’s salad.” His eyes twinkled mischievously as he said that.

“Can’t stand salad, as you well know,” Gibbs grunted. “Anyway, I’m not hungry.”

Tony gazed at him for a moment, and Gibbs knew he was seeing all the things he didn’t want to tell him. Tony’s playful manner was always misleading – he saw much more than he ever let on.

“What did you guys do today?” Gibbs asked, trying to deflect that sharp-eyed scrutiny.

“We went to the zoo,” Tony said.

“The zoo?” Gibbs raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “You two?”

“Well, Tony’s taken me to just about every tourist attraction in DC over the past couple of weeks,” Alessandro said. “That was the only one left.”

“The spy museum was definitely the best,” Tony grinned. “But the zoo was okay. It was hot though – Dad’s got this massive bald spot on the back of his head, so I gave him my baseball cap to stop his scalp frying.”

“Headslap him for me, will you, Jethro?” Alessandro said, rolling his eyes. Gibbs grinned and made a gesture with his hand, mock-slapping him, and Tony laughed. “Just you wait, Tony – hair loss is genetic, so if I’m going bald on the back of my head today, that’s where you’ll be going bald tomorrow,” his father pointed out.

“Not me,” Tony winked. “Gibbs has slapped the back of my head so often over the years that the increased blood supply has made the hair grow really strong there.”

They all laughed at that, and Gibbs reached out and gently rubbed the back of Tony’s head, enjoying the feel of that thick, soft hair under his fingertips.

There was an easy companionship around the table that he had never thought would be possible between the three of them. He wondered what would have happened if Roy Quinn hadn’t got his claws into Tony back when he was a kid. Would he and his father have somehow found a way to be close? They had now – but maybe only because of Alessandro’s desperate need to make amends. Gibbs kind of liked the idea of the two of them spending a day at the zoo – it might be twenty-five years too late, but at least father and son were finally spending some time together and discovering they did have things to talk about after all. It might take some time to repair the relationship completely – and maybe that would never be entirely possible – but they’d all been willing to try.

“Well, it’s getting late. I’m going to head back to the hotel,” Alessandro said, getting up.

None of them had been sure how this visit would pan out, so Gibbs hadn’t offered for him to stay at the house. He didn’t want Tony stressing out about a difficult house guest while Parrish’s court martial was going on. As it turned out, it wouldn’t have been a problem, but Gibbs was relieved that he and Tony got the place to themselves at the end of the day all the same.

“Night, son.” Alessandro patted Tony’s arm affectionately. “Night, Jethro.” He held out his hand. “And thank you,” he said quietly. Like Gibbs, he wasn’t a man of many words, but he meant every single one of them. Gibbs shook his hand firmly, and then Tony got up and showed his father to the door.

He returned a couple of minutes later and put his hands on Gibbs’s shoulders.

“So…just how beat are you?” he asked.

Gibbs put his head back to find Tony looking down on him with that intent look he always got in his eyes when… “Oh God. You’re insatiable,” he growled.

“Why, yes I am!” Tony grinned. He dug his fingers into Gibbs’s shoulders and then frowned. “Man you’re tight here, Jethro. I should have realised all this was getting to you far more than you were letting on. This is like solid brick instead of muscle.”

“I’ll be fine.” Gibbs liked the way Tony kept on massaging his shoulders anyway. “I’ve got a couple of weeks to unwind. Vance is making us all take some vacation time.”

“Me too? I mean, I’ve just had a couple of weeks off,” Tony said, his fingers working away at the knots in Gibbs’s tense muscles.

“Tony – you’ve worked the same hours as the rest of us these past few months, even though you weren’t working on any of the cases,” Gibbs pointed out.

“Only way I got to see you,” Tony muttered.

“And you solved four cold cases all by yourself.”

“Nearly died of boredom in the process,” Tony complained. “Going through endless witness statements, making a load of pointless phone calls, sifting through a ton of old forensic and autopsy data.”

Gibbs grinned – he knew Tony was pretty damn pleased with his solve rate, and he had done a fantastic job even if it wasn’t the job he wanted to be doing.

“I’m looking forward to getting back to normal and working with you guys again instead of sitting on the sidelines, watching,” Tony commented. Gibbs winced as his fingers found a particularly sore spot.

“I don’t think McGee is looking forward to you working with us again so much.”

“Aw c’mon! The probie needs a little hazing to keep him on his toes. He’s been getting way too serious lately,” Tony grinned.

“Forget McGee – you gonna be okay working with me again?” Gibbs asked quietly.

Tony frowned. “Sure. Why not?”

“A lot has changed since we last worked cases together, Tony.”

“You haven’t – not at work anyway,” Tony replied. “I don’t expect you to be any different there. I know you’re gonna kick my butt around again, same as you always did. Now – are we done here? ‘Cause these shoulders need more work than I can give them while you’re still dressed.”

Gibbs allowed Tony to pull him upstairs to the bedroom.

“Get undressed,” Tony ordered, before disappearing into the bathroom. Gibbs did as he’d been told, and Tony reappeared a few seconds later with a bottle in his hand.

“Please tell me that’s not honey dust,” Gibbs groaned.

Tony grinned. “It isn’t – although that’s a good idea. Maybe another time,” he leered. “This is massage oil.” He held up the bottle. “I’m gonna try and loosen your shoulders some more. Get on the bed – on your stomach.”

Gibbs obliged, and a few seconds later he felt Tony straddle him. He gave a little grunt as Tony’s slippery fingers dug into his shoulders, finding sore spots that he hadn’t even realised were there.

“So…what happened in court?” Tony asked as he worked.

“Hmmm?” Gibbs muttered into his pillow.

“Something happened in court,” Tony said, with one of those little flashes of perception he so often had. “What was it?”

Gibbs thought of Parrish mouthing the word “squeal” at him. It had been a calculated move, designed to elicit a response from him. Men like Parrish didn’t like to lose. He had wanted Gibbs to go charging over to him and possibly even take a swing at him in front of witnesses. It had taken all Gibbs’s self-control to stay where he was and not give Parrish exactly what he wanted.

“Whoa,” Tony murmured into his ear, as Gibbs’s muscles bunched up beneath his fingers. “That bad huh?”

Gibbs grunted and gave a little wince as Tony’s fingers found a tight knot in his shoulders. Tony worked away at it for several minutes. He knew his stuff, and before long Gibbs felt his body loosening under Tony’s strong hands.

Sometimes Gibbs wondered which of Tony’s three abusers he hated the most. Roy Quinn had led Tony into this nightmare, taking a shy, grieving child by the hand and sweet-talking him into ever worse acts of pain and degradation. Gibbs had spent enough time with the bastard to know that even now he didn’t even think he’d done anything wrong. He remained deluded to the end.

Matthew Parrish was a different kind of bastard. He didn’t hide his acts behind words of sentimental romance, like a bad Hallmark card, the way Quinn did. He liked having power over people, and he had enjoyed scaring a twelve year old Tony out of his wits. Gibbs still went cold when he remembered Tony going down on his hands and knees in that hotel room, trembling in fear. Parrish was cruel, calculating, and ruthless, and he’d got into Tony’s head and screwed with his mind as much as his body.

Then there was Marco. Gianni Marconi. He’d almost certainly murdered that Vietnamese boy he’d abused all those years ago, and he’d used Tony like a piece of meat. He’d raped him so viciously that he’d bled, and then got Quinn to take photos of him raping Tony a second time. Gibbs had been looking at those photos for months now, and he didn’t think he’d ever be able to get the pleading, desperate look in that child’s eyes – in Tony’s eyes – out of his mind. It haunted him.

Gibbs wasn’t sure that he could choose between them. He hated them all with an equal intensity, and until he brought Marconi to justice his job was only part done.

Gibbs couldn’t stay still any more. He rolled out from underneath Tony and plucked the bottle of massage oil out of his hand.

“Your turn.” He nodded with his head at the bed.

Tony raised a puzzled eyebrow. “Look, I’ve just spent two weeks trawling around DC like a tourist. I haven’t worked my ass off to bring a hard case to court, and I haven’t had to spend the past two weeks listening to a guilty bastard lying through his teeth on the witness stand. I should be the one handing out the massage, not you.”

“You’re right – I’ve had a tough day. All the more reason why we should do it my way,” Gibbs growled softly. “C’mon, DiNozzo – I want to touch you.”

Tony’s expression softened. He loved it when Gibbs stroked and touched him, but he could never lose himself entirely in the sensation. Just when Gibbs thought they might be getting somewhere, Tony would tense up and scramble away from him apologetically. Then he’d get angry with himself about it, which annoyed Gibbs more. It was always going to be slow-going, and he wished Tony would give himself a break.

Tony removed his clothes and lay down on the bed. Gibbs straddled him and poured a pool of oil into his hands. He rubbed them together, warming them, and then placed them on Tony’s shoulders. He loved caressing Tony’s broad, muscled back. He slid his fingers down, gently working out any knots he felt, and, in the process, felt his own shoulders opening up. The action, and the intimacy, was relaxing him as much as it was relaxing Tony.

He leaned forward and trailed a line of kisses along Tony’s spine and then scooted back and placed his hands on Tony’s firm, round buttocks. He loved the way these felt under his fingers. He knew he wanted to slide his hard cock between them and make love to Tony, but Tony wasn’t ready for that yet. Maybe he’d never be ready for it.

Tony began moving his hips rhythmically against the bed. He looked completely wanton and abandoned right now, the ends of his hair dark from the oil, his body loose and relaxed under Gibbs’s fingers.

Gibbs leaned forward and kissed Tony’s buttocks and then slid them open and licked the dark hole within. Tony gasped, his hands clutching the sheets. Gibbs sank his tongue in deeper and rimmed Tony, enjoying the sensation of Tony’s ass cheeks beneath his fingers.

They really had come one hell of a long way. It had been slow but strangely satisfying watching Tony gradually learning to relax and accept his touch over the past few months. It was kind of like watching his boat slowly take shape beneath his fingers, and Gibbs got the same sense of satisfaction from it. Sure, sometimes it was frustrating. There were times when it felt like they were taking one step forward and two steps back, but when Gibbs remembered where they’d started out, he realised just how far they’d come.

Gibbs stroked Tony’s lower back, signalling to him what he was going to do next. Tony glanced over his shoulder and nodded, moving his ass up hopefully. Gibbs poured more oil onto his hand and slid a finger into Tony’s hole. Tony sighed, and Gibbs moved his finger back and forth, enjoying the way Tony’s body rose and fell beneath him.

He risked another finger and felt Tony tense a little. This was as far as they’d ever got, and they both knew it.

“Easy,” Gibbs murmured, leaning forward to kiss Tony’s ass cheeks again. “Just let me know when you want me to stop.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” Tony growled. “That’s the damn point.”

“Then stop fighting it – just let go,” Gibbs said, and he sank his teeth gently into Tony’s butt cheek in reproach. Tony laughed and squirmed. Gibbs kept moving his fingers and then risked a third. Tony bunched his hands in the sheets and then slowly relaxed again. Gibbs smiled – this was definitely progress. He knew Tony was loose enough to take him; the problem wasn’t physical – it was mental.

He licked the hollow of Tony’s back, moving his fingers smoothly the entire time. Maybe tonight would be the night. Now that Parrish and Quinn were both behind bars, maybe Tony would relax enough to let Gibbs inside him.

Gibbs’s fingers were starting to ache, so he removed them. Tony looked at him questioningly over his shoulder.

“What do you want me to do now?” Gibbs asked.

“Fuck me,” Tony said grimly, his jaw clenching. Gibbs laughed out loud.

“No way in hell I’m gonna fuck you with that look on your face,” he said. “It’s not an ordeal, Tony. When I fuck you, I want you to enjoy it. If you won’t enjoy it, I won’t fuck you.”

He didn’t add that the idea of fucking a grimly tense Tony made his skin crawl. The thought of taking his pleasure in Tony without Tony getting any in return reminded him of Boy 43. The memory of the look on that child’s face as he was being raped was guaranteed to make Gibbs’s cock wilt immediately.

“I *want* to enjoy it,” Tony said miserably.

“Yeah, me too.” Gibbs gave a rueful smile. He leaned forward again to stroke Tony’s ass, but the sudden movement must have spooked Tony, because he rolled over, an expression of panic on his face. Gibbs went sideways immediately, allowing Tony his space. Tony calmed down, passing shaky fingers through his hair.

“Sorry. I know you weren’t…shit.” Tony slumped down on his side and looked at Gibbs despairingly.

“No problem,” Gibbs told him firmly.

“Christ, you must be sick of having to be so damn patient with me,” Tony growled.

“Stop trying to please me,” Gibbs said sharply. “I told you before – sex is something we share. I won’t take anything you don’t want to give.”

“I just want to lose control.” Tony rested his hand on Gibbs’s thigh and stroked his thumb over the skin. “You have no idea how much I want that. All my life I’ve had to be guarded, vigilant, to make sure nobody ever got in. Now I *want* you in, but I can’t seem to let go enough to make it happen. Fuck it, I hate him so much.”

“Quinn?”

“Yeah. I know it’s different with you – I know the difference between rape and consensual sex. I just freeze whenever I think it might happen.”

Gibbs nodded. He knew all this – they’d talked about it several times – but Tony could never get beyond it.

“I don’t know why it’s Quinn in my head and not the others. Maybe because I knew I hated Luke and Marco, and I knew I wasn’t consenting with them. With Quinn it was so confusing. I liked him. I wanted to please him, and I wanted him to love me and…” Tony broke off.

“And you feel the same about me,” Gibbs grunted.

“No! I mean, yes, but in a completely different way,” Tony insisted. “I never wanted him to fuck me, but you’re not forcing anything on me. And…I, you know, love you, and I didn’t love Quinn.”

Vulnerability sparked in Tony’s eyes as he said that. Gibbs wished he could give him the reassurance of a caress, but he didn’t want to freak him out again. He gave him a little smile instead.

“I hate always having to be so in control,” Tony sighed. “Whenever I have sex, there’s always a part of me sitting on the sidelines, watching. I want to lose myself in it, but I never can.”

“Hey – what we do is pretty damn good. You don’t hear me complaining,” Gibbs said. Then he grinned. “I’ve had more sex in the past few months than I had in an entire decade before, and it’s been damn good sex too, Tony. I enjoy it, and you sure as hell seem to.”

“I do!” Tony said, his hand sliding around to cup Gibbs’s ass. “But…”

“No buts,” Gibbs told him firmly. “Stop beating yourself up over this, Tony. It’ll never happen while you think about it so much. And right now you’re talking too much when there’s something else you could be doing.”

Tony smiled and rolled over on top of him, the way he always did when he needed to feel in control again. Gibbs let him. He understood the impulse. Every time Tony felt vulnerable, he had to reassert himself, and Gibbs always allowed him to do that. Tony trusted him, but his psychological scars went so deep that it would take time for him to believe, deep down, that Gibbs wasn’t going to abuse that trust. Gibbs remembered Ducky’s analogy about the fox. He might have Tony resting by his fireside and eating out of his hand – he might even have him tame enough to pet – but he didn’t yet have him at the point where he could completely let go and trust Gibbs not to hurt him.

Gibbs allowed Tony to push his hands above his head and work on his body with that intent look he always got when they were having sex. He opened his legs obligingly when Tony wanted to slide his fingers inside him and opened them even wider to allow Tony to sink his hard cock into him. He loved the feel of Tony going in – it was such an incredibly pleasurable sensation. Tony grinned down on him, the way he always did, all dazzling white teeth and glowing green eyes.

It was lazy, comfortable sex. Gibbs sank back onto the pillows as Tony nuzzled at his neck and slowly moved his hips. Gibbs liked this kind of sex. It wasn’t urgent or passionate, but it was intensely intimate. Tony always took his time and liked to maintain eye contact throughout. This kind of sex always relaxed them both whenever they’d had a hard day, and gave them a sense closeness and connection.

Tony moved his head and kissed Gibbs repeatedly as he slid in and out of him with gentle, unhurried thrusts. Gibbs rested his hands on Tony’s broad back and stroked him, keeping his movements slow and unthreatening.

The friction of Tony’s body against his hard cock, where it was trapped between both their bellies, slowly took Gibbs towards a hazy, lazy orgasm. Then he just lay back and watched Tony as he worked his way towards his own climax.

He liked the way Tony’s tongue protruded between his lips as he thrust, making them glisten sinfully. He liked the little noises of pleasure Tony made as he got close to orgasm. He *really* liked the way Tony always looked so surprised when he was inside him, as if he still couldn’t believe Gibbs would allow him to do this, even after all these months.

Most of all, Gibbs liked the way Tony always gasped out his name when he came and then kissed him on the lips straight after, as if saying “thank you”, or to reassure himself that Gibbs still loved him. It was strangely endearing.

Tony rested on him, panting after his orgasm, his thick hair soft beneath Gibbs’s chin. Gibbs kept his hands resting lightly on Tony’s body. Sudden movements always freaked Tony out in any kind of sexually charged setting, but Gibbs satisfied himself with just stroking Tony’s back softly with his fingertips.

Tony kissed his shoulder, relaxing on top of him, still lodged deep inside him. Gibbs liked the weight and feel of him, and he was comfortable having him there. Letting Tony in, both emotionally and physically, had proved to be far more rewarding than he’d expected. If this was the only way they ever had sex, then Gibbs was perfectly happy with it. It was Tony who wanted more.

Gibbs kissed Tony’s hair every so often as the sweat cooled on their bodies, until eventually Tony withdrew and rolled over, his back towards Gibbs. Gibbs moved up behind him and pressed his hand over Tony’s stomach. This was the way they always went to sleep, and he knew that it made Tony feel loved and safe. Gibbs kissed the back of Tony’s neck and felt Tony go drowsy and limp in his arms. Gibbs closed his eyes, his weariness kicking in. He was almost asleep when Tony spoke.

“What did he do that pissed you off?”

Gibbs didn’t reply. He thought he’d headed this off earlier.

“Parrish,” Tony said quietly. “What did he do at the court martial today?”

Gibbs considered lying to him, but he hadn’t done that since this began, and he didn’t want to start now. He didn’t want to tell him the truth, either. Tony had come a long way, but he was still vulnerable.

“He mouthed something at me. That’s all.”

“What was it?”

“Just a word.”

“What word?”

Gibbs sighed. He knew Tony all too well, and when he got hold of something like this Gibbs knew that he wouldn’t let it go. Gibbs pressed his hand more firmly over Tony’s stomach and held him tight.

“Squeal,” he said quietly. Tony tensed up as if he’d been hit. “It was aimed at me, not you, Tony. He was trying to get me to react and go after him in court in front of all those people – trying to land me in trouble. Also, the son of a bitch takes a sadistic pleasure in this kind of thing.”

“Ya think, Gibbs?” Tony flung over his shoulder. Gibbs snorted and kissed the back of his neck again. He stroked Tony’s belly softly until he felt him start to relax again.

“You okay, Tony?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Sure,” Gibbs said smoothly.

“You said we were done earlier,” Tony murmured. “Are we?”

“We’re done with Parrish. If he comes after you when he gets out, which I doubt, then I’ll take great pleasure in putting a bullet through his head. No second chances.”

“I believe you. But you didn’t answer my question. We’re not done yet, are we?”

Gibbs sighed. “No,” he replied. Tony pushed his hand away and turned over to face him. “Well, like you said, I’m an obsessive-compulsive justice junkie.” Gibbs gave a little shrug.

“And Marco is still out there somewhere,” Tony said quietly.

“Yeah.” Gibbs felt his gut clench. “And Marco is still out there somewhere.”