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Carrots and Sticks

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Gibbs didn't open the door for Tony. No need. No time. Tony was through it and slamming it behind him before Gibbs could swallow the mouthful of beer he'd taken.

"Want a beer?" he asked when Tony didn't speak. "Don't play charades, but you can nod for 'yes' if you've taken a vow of silence."

"More your speed than mine." Gibbs shrugged. "You knew it would piss me off," Tony continued.

No need to ask what.

"Knew it would light a fire under your ass."

"Ever think maybe I do my best work for carrots not sticks?" Tony retorted, annoyance simmering.

Gibbs stood, setting the beer bottle on the table, and went to Tony. "That so, DiNozzo? You want a gold star or a cookie when you do something right?"

"Might balance out what I get when I screw up," Tony snapped.

Gibbs reached around and cuffed the back of Tony's head, doing it slowly enough that Tony had time to dodge; gently enough that it barely disturbed the thick, soft hair. "You get that, but harder. You like it. Lets you know I'm paying attention. If you want me to stop, I will, but there's no balancing needed. It's a carrot and a stick."

He should have drawn his hand back, but he kept it there, the strands of hair warm, the shape of Tony's skull familiar. Once, years before, he'd stroked Tony's head, murmuring a teasing, "Atta-boy" with Tim and Ziva smiling. If they'd been alone, would he have done it?

Maybe not. Too risky. But he couldn't resist one light, slow stroke and when Tony shuddered, eyes sliding half-closed, he did it again.

There was still time to step back, walk away. Make a joke of it and let Tony babble until they were back to normal.

But Tony tilted his head back, gave a throat-caught sigh of pleasure and time stopped. Gibbs exhaled, the sound harsh by comparison. There was so little space between them. He'd never allowed Tony to get close in some ways, but physically wasn't one of them. He leaned over Tony's shoulder two or three times a day; handled him as he desired, knowing Tony wouldn't object and wanted more not less.

Never giving Tony more was a small cruelty he felt guilty over sometimes but this was atonement time.

With a deliberation that allowed him to control the tremor in his hand, he drew his palm from the crown of Tony's head to the back of his neck, an unhurried caress that ended with his fingers curled around smooth, bare skin hidden by a shirt collar. No tie tonight, just a white shirt with a thin gray stripe, the top two buttonholes empty

He squeezed and Tony shuddered.

Oh yeah. Like that, DiNozzo.

Did he say it aloud? Maybe. Tony whispered, "Yes, boss," enough of a challenge spicing the dutiful words to make Gibbs' cock harden, a surge of desire flowing from his hand to all points south.

"We on the same page here?" he asked.

Tony's eyelids flickered, open, shut, the corner of his mouth twitching irritably.

Less talking? Gibbs didn't have a problem with that. He relaxed his grip and before Tony voiced the disappointment that flashed through his eyes, Gibbs ran fingertips that could feel the slightest roughness in wood over Tony's jaw.

No bristles. Tony had taken the time to shave before heading over to berate him. Interesting.

Gibbs closed his hand around Tony's throat, his thumb stroking the side of Tony's neck. More shudders, though Tony tried to hold them in.

"You don't do that," Gibbs told him, halting the rasp of his thumb by way of reproof. "Ever know me happy when you're keeping something from me?"

"When you dish out the carrots, you go for big helpings."

Gibbs chuckled, enjoying the amusement as much as the hopeful throb in his balls. Sex. He liked sex. Not driven by it, but it'd been a while. Too long. "Handy for an agent to be able to see in the dark."

"Think that's a myth—"

Kissing Tony was a great way to shut him up. Gibbs tasted the words Tony wanted to say, relishing the way they became flicks of Tony's tongue, strong and sure. He'd boxed with Tony and kissing him was a similar experience; no matter what Tony tried, Gibbs won.

Won the race to be the first to bite down on a full lower lip; the first to slide his tongue possessively deep. Got Tony to voice another of those sexy as hell moans that Gibbs wanted to call a whimper just because he liked the idea his mouth on Tony's did that.

It wasn't long before they were struggling for more, panting, hands busy, clumsy, no clear aim in mind. Lust confused Gibbs' usual clarity of purpose. He wanted skin to touch, but he wanted to fill his eyes too, see Tony naked.

Mostly, though, he wanted Tony's cock solid and hot, trapped in the curl of his fingers. Quick and dirty would do for now and if this was a one-time deal, he'd live with the coulda, shoulda regrets later. He'd had plenty of practice.

So he pushed Tony against a wall to give Tony some support, and dealt with a belt buckle, a button, a zipper, and the slit in Tony's shorts, shoving his hand through fabric to get to skin with impatience boiling up inside him.

The hiss of satisfaction that escaped him when he found Tony hard as stone, tip slicked wetly made Tony smile.

"Thought if we ever did this, I'd be too scared to get it up. Guess that's not a problem. "

"Doesn't look like it," Gibbs agreed, working Tony with a grip he adjusted when Tony winced. "Gonna mind if you get messy?"

"Yes. My dry cleaner complains about mud and blood. Don't think she'd consider come an improvement."

Gibbs stepped back. "Then get naked."

"Here? When anyone could walk in?"

"If anyone does, I'll shoot 'em. "

"Sweet talker."

He didn't want to move. Leave the room, go upstairs to his bed, and this became a choice. As it was, they were too wound up to stop for anything short of a bullet coming through the window. Gibbs wanted to keep that urgency oiling the machine.

Tony stripped down with commendable speed and after looking him over and noting that Tony was in damn good shape, Gibbs did the same, leaving his T-shirt on because he didn't care if it ended up covered with come, his or Tony's and the room was cool. He wished he'd lit a fire.

"No," Tony said, mouth firm. "All or nothing, Gibbs."

With a shrug, Gibbs lost the T-shirt. They stood, a foot or two apart, naked, hard, Tony's chest rising and falling, his fingers flexing.

"God, I want this," Tony whispered and the anguish in his voice made Gibbs ache, but in a good way. He didn't want to soothe Tony's emotions but use them as fuel. Wanted to see what Tony was like driven by need. "Gibbs…"

"C'mere," Gibbs said and crooked his finger. "To me, Tony."

Two stumbling steps, and he had Tony in his arms again and God, yes, it was better naked. Hard body, strong enough to take whatever he dished out straining against his, as if Tony couldn't get close enough, big, capable hands mapping his body with less hesitation than Gibbs expected. Tony wasn't shy. He clamped down on Gibbs' butt, squeezing and cupping each cheek like an Italian housewife checking the firmness of a piece of fruit.

More kissing. Gibbs had never gone in for that much with a man, but Tony's mouth drew him. He liked sliding his lips over Tony's and feeling them part for his tongue. Loved the way Tony bit down on his shoulder when Gibbs rolled his balls and slid a questing finger around the tight furl of Tony's hole.

Wall again, but this time Gibbs had it at his back as Tony went to his knees.

"Going to make you see stars," Tony promised and if he was on his knees, there was nothing of the supplicant in the way he licked Gibbs' cock from base to crown. More a hungry anticipation. "Mm. Nice carrot, boss. Or is it a stick?" He glanced up through dark lashes Gibbs considered too long for a man. "Sorry. Forgot. Both, right?"

Without answering, Gibbs wrapped one hand around his cock and cradled the back of Tony's head with the other. Then he brought Tony's smiling mouth to where he wanted it.

No need for a head slap. Tony was doing a good job.

But Gibbs kept his hand there until he jerked his hips and came because when he'd let it drop to Tony's shoulder, Tony had reached up, taken it, and drawn it back to where it'd been.

If Tony wanted it there, Gibbs didn't mind.

Didn't mind at all.