BDSM big bang 2012 (NCIS entry)
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PROLOGUE; My bed is half empty not half full
The darkness that Tony DiNozzo found himself surrounded by was artificial, created by low lighting and a thick custom made blindfold that he was intimately familiar with and yet it was no less terrifying for it. He kept his breathing shallow, not wanting his panic and fear to bleed through the carefully constructed atmosphere. He only wanted to please his Dominant, to make his Dominant happy enough so that he might be pleasured in return, or at the very least so he would be freed of his various bindings. Ankles, thighs, wrists, elbows... all bound with butter soft leather that wouldn't leave a mark on his skin no matter how hard he struggled but would never give enough for him to escape from them. Tony thought that he could endure this all with much more grace if only he had been left the ability to verbally safe word, except a large ball-gag prevented him from being able to do much more than groan around the shape. He was humiliated as dribble escaped his mouth and trailed a cold damp path down to his face, pooling in the hollow of his throat and at the sides of his neck. Still, even as he counted the ways in which he hated his dilemma, all he could think of was the sound of his Dominant's voice and how good it would feel when he was worthy of praise.
Rebecca's voice floated over to him as if being carried by a strong wind, “I'll just be in the other room, Tonio, don't worry,” the voice changed mid-sentence, suddenly masculine and heartbreakingly familiar “I'm not leaving you...” He heard foot steps retreating and started fighting against his bondage, screaming through the ball gag in an attempt to get him to stop. It was too late. He was already gone. They both were.
Tony woke up in bed alone, sweaty, naked and fighting the urge to hurl. He breathed in quick rapid breaths through his nose and out of his mouth while he waited for his heart beat to return to normal. The electric alarm clock that sat alone on his night-stand read 2:35 and Tony groaned in desperation. This was the third time this week alone that he'd woken up with barely three hours sleep and it was only Thursday. Nightmares had plagued him for a few months now, each one slightly different but he wasn't such an idiot that he didn't realise exactly where they stemmed from or what they were trying to communicate to him, but it wasn't like the knowledge changed the reality. Ducky had been understanding at first, prescribing him some sleeping pills so he could grab at least one or two full nights sleep but after a few weeks the nightmares crept into his drug induced sleep and tormented him until they wore off and after that Ducky had refused to help him medically, instead advising him to seek psychological help or do something drastic like call Gibbs.
He hadn't done either. After all he hated therapy despite having enough material to last a life time of sessions (and that was just his childhood), and as for making that phone call? The man had been in Mexico. He hadn't wanted to be bothered by petty little things like ex second-in-commands and their night terrors. Besides, Tony had since developed his own method of dealing with the unwanted dreams. Once every so often, nearly always on a Friday or Saturday night, he would go to the Saint Andrew's Cross club that his friend owned. There he was guaranteed to find someone to work the stress off with.
With that in mind he switched the light on and went into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water, knowing that he was always dehydrated after the nightmares and that if he didn't drink something then he'd only wake in another two or three hours with an awful headache that would have him ill tempered all day. On his way back into his bedroom he noticed that, like always, his side of the bed was crumpled from twisting and turning in his sleep. Also that, as always, the other side of the king sized bed was perfectly untouched, as if still awaiting it's occupant. Which was ten kinds of ridiculous, especially since Gibbs had never even spent the night at Tony's apartment, they'd stayed together at his large unlocked house where Tony had never felt safer. Really Tony should by-pass his side of the bed, which was damp with his sweat, and man up enough to disturb the pressed sheets on the second half of his bed, but something in him prevented him from being able to do so. He snorted at himself, it wasn't like Jethro was coming back knowing that he was always dehydrated after the nightmares and that if he didn't drink something then he'd only wake in another two or three hours with an awful headache that would have him ill tempered all day. On his way back into his bedroom he noticed that, like always, his side of the bed was crumpled from twisting and turning in his sleep. Also that, as always, the other side of the king sized bed was perfectly untouched, as if still awaiting it's occupant. Which was ten kinds of ridiculous, especially since Gibbs had never even spent the night at Tony's apartment, they'd stayed together at his large unlocked house where Tony had never felt safer. Really Tony should by-pass his side of the bed, which was damp with his sweat, and man up enough to disturb the pressed sheets on the second half of his bed, but something in him prevented him from being able to do so. He snorted at himself, it wasnck to make use of the space, and yet still every night no matter how much thrashing about he did in his sleep, he never rolled onto the other side of the bed.
Tony switched the light off and climbed back into his side of the bed, wiggling around to find a comfortable position in his loneliness. He'd be awake again in three hours, head off for a run before returning to his apartment to wash away the sweat and memories before going to work, arriving an hour before everyone else. Except Gibbs. He'd be there about the same time, and they'd both ignore the elephant in the room and pretend like everything is fine. Like Tony isn't broken and Gibbs's can't remember why.
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