Untitled ficlets
I have finished the fic what I can't talk about. And to celebrate, you get porny snippets. All written around the same (self-given) prompt, all very much NC-17.
The cuffs close around his wrists, soft black fleece against his skin, black leather gleaming dully in the dim light of the bedroom, the metal a bright contrast. They're snug against his skin, a gentle, sure clasp around his wrists that makes Tony shiver and his breath catch in his throat.
Gibbs draws Tony's wrists behind his back and clips the cuffs together. He's not uncomfortable, but he's helpless, on his stomach, cock hard and leaking against the sheets, unable to do more than push his hips back into Gibbs' touch, into the fingers stroking down over his ass, between his cheeks, slippery with lube as they push into him, working him open, thrusting in and out deliberately, slow and steady, until Tony's panting and writhing in need.
The cuffs are implacable, holding him when he struggles, trying to get his hands free so he can grip the pillow, reach for Gibbs, anything. But he can't, he can't move his hands, and then Gibbs' cock is pushing into him and Tony moans, long and low, as his body surrenders itself, as Gibbs takes him, handcuffed and helpless and completely, utterly, his.
That's what it's about, that's what matters, this moment of possession, of claiming and dominance and owning and it doesn't have to be from this, Gibbs could get it just as easily on his knees in front of Tony as he could with his cock up Tony's ass. But this is what they both want and this is what they have and Tony pants for breath as Gibbs fucks him, as Gibbs thrusts into him, over and over, pushing him higher with with every stroke into him, every soft groan Gibbs makes against the back of his neck.
Tony's so far gone it takes him a moment to recognize that Gibbs is saying one word into his ear, again and again. "Now," Gibbs says, voice rough and husky. "Now."
He doesn't have the breath to scream as he comes.
~~~~
Handcuffs aren't something you can just pack when you come to another galaxy, nor are they something you can requisition, at least not the leather cuffs, the ones for play, not work. Now that they have access to Earth, John's thought about smuggling a pair back in his bag, but really, the risks aren't worth it if he were to get caught.
Which is why, when they go to P3X-175 and discover that it's a trading marketplace known throughout the galaxy, and John sees a stall that carries some more...unusual items...he makes note of it. He slips away from the team later in the afternoon and doubles back to the stall and ends up trading three powerbars and a bag of perris seeds for a set of beautifully tooled leather cuffs with metal buckles and D-rings. The stall keeper throws in the braided cord for extra, and John stows everything away in the bottom of his pack and meets his team before they start wondering where he's gone.
That night, he brings them out and sees Rodney's pupils dilate and his cheeks flush. He cuffs Rodney's hands behind his back, using the cord to clip the cuffs together, and he spreads Rodney out on the bed and starts working his fingers into Rodney, one at a time, slowly. He's generous with the lube and he strokes Rodney's back with his free hand and Rodney's trembling by the time John has two fingers in him, whimpering as John adds a third.
Rodney's never taken more than three fingers or John's cock before, but John slides a fourth into him, easy as anything, listening to Rodney's soft, ragged moans, feeling the soft tight heat around him. He watches the way Rodney's hands flex and close, pulling against the cuffs helplessly, and when he folds his thumb against his palm and pushes, slow and sure, Rodney makes a high, broken sound and shudders all over.
John would keep him like this forever if he could, open and helpless and so far lost inside his head he doesn't know anything except this. He twists his hand a little, just to hear Rodney keen. "C'mon, c'mon," he murmurs under his breath, moving his hand in tiny twists, every push rubbing over Rodney's prostate. "C'mon, Rodney, come for me, c'mon..."
He feels Rodney clench around his hand, watches him tense and arch and shake as he comes. He doesn't hear anything other than a broken gasp; Rodney doesn't have the breath to make sound.
God, it's sweet.
~~~~
They're playing a game, and the name of the game is how long it'll take before Tony gives in. It's not that he's being deliberately disobedient; there's a time and a place for that, and he's not yet comfortable enough in his submission and his place with David to be a brat. But he's not feeling like being the eager, pliant boy either, not today. He wants David to work for it, wants him to fight a little to take Tony down to that place they both know he'll end up, at the end of it.
Which is why Tony's sprawled out over David's lap, his hands cuffed behind his back, his ass heated and sore from David's hand, his cock hard as steel. He's not quite ready to give in, not yet, even though his skin feels raw and when David trails his nails over Tony's ass it's enough to make him moan involuntarily and twist.
David chuckles softly and Tony hears the sound of a drawer opening; he can't see what it is, with his head turned against the covers, but he hears objects being moved and then the drawer closes, and then he hears the wet sounds of lube being applied to something and he has just enough time to think 'Oh shit' before the something is sliding carefully into his ass. It's cool; probably silicone, not too big, either, and it fits comfortably inside him, and Tony thinks okay, he can deal with this.
And then David presses something and the toy starts to buzz and Tony nearly comes off the bed. It's resting right over his prostate and he's getting no relief from it and no matter how he writhes, how he twists his hips, it won't go away, it won't ebb, and he didn't think it was possible for his cock to get any harder but Jesus fuck he thinks he could smash diamonds right about now.
"Please," he begs, his voice cracking. "David, please."
The toy stops buzzing, but David doesn't remove it. He strokes a hand down Tony's back, over his bound wrists, over his ass. "Are you going to behave?" he asks, his voice soft and reasonable.
"Yes," Tony promises. "Yes, please, I'll do anything--"
"Suck me," David says, "and I'll let you come."
Tony wastes no time scrambling to his knees.
~~~~
Gibbs has three ex-wives. He can't afford fetishes.
Kinks, however, are another matter.
When Abby became his girl, Gibbs bought a pair of cuffs for her. Simple black leather, soft on the inside, shiny metal buckles and D-rings; they're a little worn now, the leather supple with use, the fleece on the inside matted down in places.
Tony's cuffs are a little different. They're padded on the inside, lined with soft leather. They're the kind of cuffs designed to be worn for hours on end, and Gibbs has kept him in them for that long on occasion.
At first, Tony couldn't stand being restrained. Too many memories, too many bad associations. It didn't matter that his body was crying out for it, that he never came as hard as he did when Gibbs pinned him down during sex, that Gibbs' hands closing around his wrists slipped him into subspace faster than anything else. Cuffs were a limit, one Gibbs respected.
But things change, and as Tony began to trust them, to realize that Gibbs wasn't Kristen, Gibbs saw him glance at Abby's cuffs a few times. He saw Tony rub his own wrists, as if thinking.
Casually, he left the cuffs out on the night stand. He didn't do anything with them, he didn't mention them. He just left them there.
Three nights later, Tony glanced at them, then at Gibbs. "Sir," he said softly.
"Yes, Tony?" Gibbs asked.
Tony took a deep breath. "Would you--would you please--" He picked up the cuffs and held them out to Gibbs.
Gibbs closed his hands around Tony's, pulling him into a hard kiss. "Yes," he said.
~~~~
Stephen's out of breath, his hair escaping from its ponytail and falling into his face. He looks around frantically for a way out, but Warrick's between him and the door of the playroom.
"Don't even try it," Warrick tells him. "I'm not in the mood, Stephen."
"Neither am I," Stephen snaps.
"You want to sit down tomorrow?" Warrick takes a step toward him. "It's all the same to me. The more you fight it, the harder it's gonna be, and we both know you'll end up on your knees for me. You wanna go down kicking and fighting, be my guest. I'll just whip your ass harder for it once you fall."
Stephen swallows hard. The door's partially open. If--he bolts, making a run for it, and Warrick takes two long steps and wraps one hand in Stephen's hair, pulling his head back, the other arm locking around his waist, keeping him pinned against Warrick no matter how he struggles and kicks.
"Safeword," Warrick says in his ear. "You want this to end, all you have to do is say one word."
Stephen keeps his mouth shut.
Warrick laughs. "Can't do it, can you, baby? Yeah, that's what I thought." He bites Stephen's neck, teeth sinking into the join of shoulder and throat. Stephen bites back a whimper, struggling against Warrick's grip on him, his head starting to get light and almost-dizzy, that space where nothing else matters.
"Just give in, baby," Warrick whispers. "I've got you."
Stephen makes a helpless sound and falls to his knees, Warrick crouching down behind him. He offers up his wrists, closing his eyes as Warrick buckles the cuffs around them.
The cuffs close around his wrists, soft black fleece against his skin, black leather gleaming dully in the dim light of the bedroom, the metal a bright contrast. They're snug against his skin, a gentle, sure clasp around his wrists that makes Tony shiver and his breath catch in his throat.
Gibbs draws Tony's wrists behind his back and clips the cuffs together. He's not uncomfortable, but he's helpless, on his stomach, cock hard and leaking against the sheets, unable to do more than push his hips back into Gibbs' touch, into the fingers stroking down over his ass, between his cheeks, slippery with lube as they push into him, working him open, thrusting in and out deliberately, slow and steady, until Tony's panting and writhing in need.
The cuffs are implacable, holding him when he struggles, trying to get his hands free so he can grip the pillow, reach for Gibbs, anything. But he can't, he can't move his hands, and then Gibbs' cock is pushing into him and Tony moans, long and low, as his body surrenders itself, as Gibbs takes him, handcuffed and helpless and completely, utterly, his.
That's what it's about, that's what matters, this moment of possession, of claiming and dominance and owning and it doesn't have to be from this, Gibbs could get it just as easily on his knees in front of Tony as he could with his cock up Tony's ass. But this is what they both want and this is what they have and Tony pants for breath as Gibbs fucks him, as Gibbs thrusts into him, over and over, pushing him higher with with every stroke into him, every soft groan Gibbs makes against the back of his neck.
Tony's so far gone it takes him a moment to recognize that Gibbs is saying one word into his ear, again and again. "Now," Gibbs says, voice rough and husky. "Now."
He doesn't have the breath to scream as he comes.
~~~~
Handcuffs aren't something you can just pack when you come to another galaxy, nor are they something you can requisition, at least not the leather cuffs, the ones for play, not work. Now that they have access to Earth, John's thought about smuggling a pair back in his bag, but really, the risks aren't worth it if he were to get caught.
Which is why, when they go to P3X-175 and discover that it's a trading marketplace known throughout the galaxy, and John sees a stall that carries some more...unusual items...he makes note of it. He slips away from the team later in the afternoon and doubles back to the stall and ends up trading three powerbars and a bag of perris seeds for a set of beautifully tooled leather cuffs with metal buckles and D-rings. The stall keeper throws in the braided cord for extra, and John stows everything away in the bottom of his pack and meets his team before they start wondering where he's gone.
That night, he brings them out and sees Rodney's pupils dilate and his cheeks flush. He cuffs Rodney's hands behind his back, using the cord to clip the cuffs together, and he spreads Rodney out on the bed and starts working his fingers into Rodney, one at a time, slowly. He's generous with the lube and he strokes Rodney's back with his free hand and Rodney's trembling by the time John has two fingers in him, whimpering as John adds a third.
Rodney's never taken more than three fingers or John's cock before, but John slides a fourth into him, easy as anything, listening to Rodney's soft, ragged moans, feeling the soft tight heat around him. He watches the way Rodney's hands flex and close, pulling against the cuffs helplessly, and when he folds his thumb against his palm and pushes, slow and sure, Rodney makes a high, broken sound and shudders all over.
John would keep him like this forever if he could, open and helpless and so far lost inside his head he doesn't know anything except this. He twists his hand a little, just to hear Rodney keen. "C'mon, c'mon," he murmurs under his breath, moving his hand in tiny twists, every push rubbing over Rodney's prostate. "C'mon, Rodney, come for me, c'mon..."
He feels Rodney clench around his hand, watches him tense and arch and shake as he comes. He doesn't hear anything other than a broken gasp; Rodney doesn't have the breath to make sound.
God, it's sweet.
~~~~
They're playing a game, and the name of the game is how long it'll take before Tony gives in. It's not that he's being deliberately disobedient; there's a time and a place for that, and he's not yet comfortable enough in his submission and his place with David to be a brat. But he's not feeling like being the eager, pliant boy either, not today. He wants David to work for it, wants him to fight a little to take Tony down to that place they both know he'll end up, at the end of it.
Which is why Tony's sprawled out over David's lap, his hands cuffed behind his back, his ass heated and sore from David's hand, his cock hard as steel. He's not quite ready to give in, not yet, even though his skin feels raw and when David trails his nails over Tony's ass it's enough to make him moan involuntarily and twist.
David chuckles softly and Tony hears the sound of a drawer opening; he can't see what it is, with his head turned against the covers, but he hears objects being moved and then the drawer closes, and then he hears the wet sounds of lube being applied to something and he has just enough time to think 'Oh shit' before the something is sliding carefully into his ass. It's cool; probably silicone, not too big, either, and it fits comfortably inside him, and Tony thinks okay, he can deal with this.
And then David presses something and the toy starts to buzz and Tony nearly comes off the bed. It's resting right over his prostate and he's getting no relief from it and no matter how he writhes, how he twists his hips, it won't go away, it won't ebb, and he didn't think it was possible for his cock to get any harder but Jesus fuck he thinks he could smash diamonds right about now.
"Please," he begs, his voice cracking. "David, please."
The toy stops buzzing, but David doesn't remove it. He strokes a hand down Tony's back, over his bound wrists, over his ass. "Are you going to behave?" he asks, his voice soft and reasonable.
"Yes," Tony promises. "Yes, please, I'll do anything--"
"Suck me," David says, "and I'll let you come."
Tony wastes no time scrambling to his knees.
~~~~
Gibbs has three ex-wives. He can't afford fetishes.
Kinks, however, are another matter.
When Abby became his girl, Gibbs bought a pair of cuffs for her. Simple black leather, soft on the inside, shiny metal buckles and D-rings; they're a little worn now, the leather supple with use, the fleece on the inside matted down in places.
Tony's cuffs are a little different. They're padded on the inside, lined with soft leather. They're the kind of cuffs designed to be worn for hours on end, and Gibbs has kept him in them for that long on occasion.
At first, Tony couldn't stand being restrained. Too many memories, too many bad associations. It didn't matter that his body was crying out for it, that he never came as hard as he did when Gibbs pinned him down during sex, that Gibbs' hands closing around his wrists slipped him into subspace faster than anything else. Cuffs were a limit, one Gibbs respected.
But things change, and as Tony began to trust them, to realize that Gibbs wasn't Kristen, Gibbs saw him glance at Abby's cuffs a few times. He saw Tony rub his own wrists, as if thinking.
Casually, he left the cuffs out on the night stand. He didn't do anything with them, he didn't mention them. He just left them there.
Three nights later, Tony glanced at them, then at Gibbs. "Sir," he said softly.
"Yes, Tony?" Gibbs asked.
Tony took a deep breath. "Would you--would you please--" He picked up the cuffs and held them out to Gibbs.
Gibbs closed his hands around Tony's, pulling him into a hard kiss. "Yes," he said.
~~~~
Stephen's out of breath, his hair escaping from its ponytail and falling into his face. He looks around frantically for a way out, but Warrick's between him and the door of the playroom.
"Don't even try it," Warrick tells him. "I'm not in the mood, Stephen."
"Neither am I," Stephen snaps.
"You want to sit down tomorrow?" Warrick takes a step toward him. "It's all the same to me. The more you fight it, the harder it's gonna be, and we both know you'll end up on your knees for me. You wanna go down kicking and fighting, be my guest. I'll just whip your ass harder for it once you fall."
Stephen swallows hard. The door's partially open. If--he bolts, making a run for it, and Warrick takes two long steps and wraps one hand in Stephen's hair, pulling his head back, the other arm locking around his waist, keeping him pinned against Warrick no matter how he struggles and kicks.
"Safeword," Warrick says in his ear. "You want this to end, all you have to do is say one word."
Stephen keeps his mouth shut.
Warrick laughs. "Can't do it, can you, baby? Yeah, that's what I thought." He bites Stephen's neck, teeth sinking into the join of shoulder and throat. Stephen bites back a whimper, struggling against Warrick's grip on him, his head starting to get light and almost-dizzy, that space where nothing else matters.
"Just give in, baby," Warrick whispers. "I've got you."
Stephen makes a helpless sound and falls to his knees, Warrick crouching down behind him. He offers up his wrists, closing his eyes as Warrick buckles the cuffs around them.