ficlet: against the wall
Title: against the wall
Author: rebecca
Pairing: Gibbs/Abby/Tony
Rating: NC-17
Summary: over and over again
Notes: Written for sandersyager, who asked for pavlov fic.
It's been one of those days, the sixteen-hour nonstop ones, starting with a call at 0500 that they had a case. And it wasn't just any case; they had a dead Marine and a dead four-year-old girl out at Norfolk. So Tony and Gibbs had grabbed their clothes and left Abby to yawn her way into the lab and gone to get the truck and get the gear and find out what had happened. And the forensics were iffy and they had two different TODs and neither Sergeant Rawlins nor Marissa Clarke had been killed where they were found. And it was hours before they had a viable lead and even then it was dicey, but it was all they had, and in the end it was nine o'clock before Jason Hawthorn succumbed to Gibbs' interrogation and confessed to both murders.
Nine o'clock, and none of them had been hungry, but they knew they had to eat, so Tony and Gibbs had stopped at the deli on their way home and gotten pastrami and corned beef and spicy mustard and rye bread, and cole slaw and potato salad and cream soda, and they'd made sandwiches and sprawled out on the couch and not talked about what was going to happen later that night. What they all wanted to happen.
Because it's been one of those days, a day of brick walls and frustration and dead ends every way they looked. It's been a sixteen-hour day full of images of dead children, of too much caffeine and greasy burgers for a lunch grabbed hastily on their way to yet another interview. And it's been a day where the pressure's been building, and building, and even taking Hawthorn in for booking isn't enough to let it go.
So they ate their dinner and they said nothing, and after dinner Abby cleaned up and Tony went upstairs to shower, and by the time Abby made her way upstairs and Gibbs followed, Tony was kneeling on the bed, naked, hands behind his back.
Because it's Tony, on nights like these. Tony, who needs to release the pressure as much as Gibbs. Tony, who matches Gibbs' anger and grief with his own, who offers himself up as a substitute for the one Gibbs can't have. Tony, whose faith in Gibbs is absolute, who trusts Gibbs not to go past his limits, not to give him what he can't handle.
And Gibbs pushes him, pushes him past Tony's comfort zone. The paddle, the whip, the words; Gibbs wields them all mercilessly, until Tony's crying behind the blindfold, until his wrists chafe from struggling against the cuffs. Tony's back is marked, his ass is red, and still Gibbs doesn't stop. Gibbs' breath is harsh and fast in his throat, his arm aches, but it's not enough and it won't be enough. Not now, not after a day like today.
But Tony's reaching his limits, Tony can only take so much, and the next crack of the whip is the last he can handle. He screams, falling forward, arms held up by the chain connecting them to the headboard, head hanging down, tears and sweat mixing on his face, and he cries, purging his body of the bitterness, of the anger, all of it swept away by the pain Gibbs gives him, the need Gibbs fills for him.
Gibbs puts down the whip and uncuffs him and holds him, and his eyes are closed and his arms are gentle around Tony, and if he whispers a gratitude under his breath Tony will never hear. Because it's enough, now. Because Gibbs has Tony in his arms, broken and sobbing and achingly, beautifully his. Tony knows nothing else, nothing but pain and pleasure and Gibbs, and it's enough for both of them to have this, to be allowed to have this.
The cool washcloth to clean his face, the cream to soothe his back; Abby has these, offerings to the priest, only the cleric and the god are one and the same and if Gibbs tastes her tears when he kisses her neither of them will ever say a word. They minister to Tony, they soothe him and stroke him, and they lie down on either side of him, their arms around him, Abby's hand on Gibbs' hip and his fingers brushing her shoulder. It's not about sex, not tonight, and while they may wake up in the morning with Gibbs' cock in Abby's cunt or Tony's mouth on her clit, that's for later.
It's been one of those days, one of those endless sixteen-hour nonstop days, and the only thing that makes it bearable is that they have this, at the end of it all. They have each other and a relationship that defies all conventions but somehow manages to work. They have the pain, the pleasure, the line that blurs between both. They have Tony's surrender, Abby's submission. They have Gibbs' dominance, his control and his passion.
So they sleep, and if Tony dreams of too-small bodies in body bags or if Gibbs dreams of a life that was his, once upon a time, those are wisps, faded away into the mist of unconsciousness as seamlessly as they appeared. Because it doesn't matter right now, because they've made it through another day.
Today has taken care of itself, and tomorrow will come when tomorrow does, and tomorrow they will still have this. And it keeps them sane, and it keeps them safe, and they make it through the days one at a time, because it's the only way to survive.
And this is the only way they have.
Author: rebecca
Pairing: Gibbs/Abby/Tony
Rating: NC-17
Summary: over and over again
Notes: Written for sandersyager, who asked for pavlov fic.
It's been one of those days, the sixteen-hour nonstop ones, starting with a call at 0500 that they had a case. And it wasn't just any case; they had a dead Marine and a dead four-year-old girl out at Norfolk. So Tony and Gibbs had grabbed their clothes and left Abby to yawn her way into the lab and gone to get the truck and get the gear and find out what had happened. And the forensics were iffy and they had two different TODs and neither Sergeant Rawlins nor Marissa Clarke had been killed where they were found. And it was hours before they had a viable lead and even then it was dicey, but it was all they had, and in the end it was nine o'clock before Jason Hawthorn succumbed to Gibbs' interrogation and confessed to both murders.
Nine o'clock, and none of them had been hungry, but they knew they had to eat, so Tony and Gibbs had stopped at the deli on their way home and gotten pastrami and corned beef and spicy mustard and rye bread, and cole slaw and potato salad and cream soda, and they'd made sandwiches and sprawled out on the couch and not talked about what was going to happen later that night. What they all wanted to happen.
Because it's been one of those days, a day of brick walls and frustration and dead ends every way they looked. It's been a sixteen-hour day full of images of dead children, of too much caffeine and greasy burgers for a lunch grabbed hastily on their way to yet another interview. And it's been a day where the pressure's been building, and building, and even taking Hawthorn in for booking isn't enough to let it go.
So they ate their dinner and they said nothing, and after dinner Abby cleaned up and Tony went upstairs to shower, and by the time Abby made her way upstairs and Gibbs followed, Tony was kneeling on the bed, naked, hands behind his back.
Because it's Tony, on nights like these. Tony, who needs to release the pressure as much as Gibbs. Tony, who matches Gibbs' anger and grief with his own, who offers himself up as a substitute for the one Gibbs can't have. Tony, whose faith in Gibbs is absolute, who trusts Gibbs not to go past his limits, not to give him what he can't handle.
And Gibbs pushes him, pushes him past Tony's comfort zone. The paddle, the whip, the words; Gibbs wields them all mercilessly, until Tony's crying behind the blindfold, until his wrists chafe from struggling against the cuffs. Tony's back is marked, his ass is red, and still Gibbs doesn't stop. Gibbs' breath is harsh and fast in his throat, his arm aches, but it's not enough and it won't be enough. Not now, not after a day like today.
But Tony's reaching his limits, Tony can only take so much, and the next crack of the whip is the last he can handle. He screams, falling forward, arms held up by the chain connecting them to the headboard, head hanging down, tears and sweat mixing on his face, and he cries, purging his body of the bitterness, of the anger, all of it swept away by the pain Gibbs gives him, the need Gibbs fills for him.
Gibbs puts down the whip and uncuffs him and holds him, and his eyes are closed and his arms are gentle around Tony, and if he whispers a gratitude under his breath Tony will never hear. Because it's enough, now. Because Gibbs has Tony in his arms, broken and sobbing and achingly, beautifully his. Tony knows nothing else, nothing but pain and pleasure and Gibbs, and it's enough for both of them to have this, to be allowed to have this.
The cool washcloth to clean his face, the cream to soothe his back; Abby has these, offerings to the priest, only the cleric and the god are one and the same and if Gibbs tastes her tears when he kisses her neither of them will ever say a word. They minister to Tony, they soothe him and stroke him, and they lie down on either side of him, their arms around him, Abby's hand on Gibbs' hip and his fingers brushing her shoulder. It's not about sex, not tonight, and while they may wake up in the morning with Gibbs' cock in Abby's cunt or Tony's mouth on her clit, that's for later.
It's been one of those days, one of those endless sixteen-hour nonstop days, and the only thing that makes it bearable is that they have this, at the end of it all. They have each other and a relationship that defies all conventions but somehow manages to work. They have the pain, the pleasure, the line that blurs between both. They have Tony's surrender, Abby's submission. They have Gibbs' dominance, his control and his passion.
So they sleep, and if Tony dreams of too-small bodies in body bags or if Gibbs dreams of a life that was his, once upon a time, those are wisps, faded away into the mist of unconsciousness as seamlessly as they appeared. Because it doesn't matter right now, because they've made it through another day.
Today has taken care of itself, and tomorrow will come when tomorrow does, and tomorrow they will still have this. And it keeps them sane, and it keeps them safe, and they make it through the days one at a time, because it's the only way to survive.
And this is the only way they have.