- Work in Progress
- Explicit Sex
- No Beta
- Male Pregnancy
Gibbs woke as his cock slipped free from Tony’s heat. The young man was still asleep as Gibbs carefully rolled off him and slid quietly out of bed. He investigated and found the bathroom, then, after a quick pitstop to use the head and grab a two-minute shower, Gibbs went in search of the kitchen. From what he could remember from his high school sex-ed class, Omegas didn’t eat much the couple of days before coming into heat, preferring instead to stick to high-sugar drinks, such as fresh fruit juice. Alphas, on the other hand, stuck to high-protein lean meats. The fridge was empty, bar a couple of old jars of condiments pushed to the back. He sighed. Shopping, it was, then.
Tony woke with a start, certain something was wrong. After a moment, the fog in his brain lifted enough that he realized the sound that had woken him was that of the door to his apartment closing. He lifted his head and looked around, but he already knew that Gibbs was gone.
Tony forced himself up and out of the tangle of sheets to sit on the side of the bed. He wanted to be rational about this: there were any number of reasons Gibbs could have for leaving. Really, lots. It didn’t have to be that Gibbs had come to his senses now Tony’s first flush of heat had been satisfied. It didn’t have to be that he’d decided sleeping with men – with a male Omega – wasn’t for him. It didn’t have to mess up their dynamic at work. Gibbs could have been called back to the office, or gone out for coffee, or…
Tony sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. His ass was sore and slick, his abs and hip were covered in drying come, and he’d needed a shower long before they’d made it back to DC.
“Up and at ’em, DiNozzo,” Tony muttered. “Not like it’s the first time someone’s hit and run on you.” He pushed himself up to his feet, ignoring the way his legs felt rubbery, and marched into the bathroom. He’d feel better after a hot shower. But under the spray, as steam filled the small room, hidden even from himself, Tony couldn’t push away the pang of hurt that stabbed through him.
“God, I hope I haven’t fucked things up,” he whispered. He’d had a raging case of – not hero worship, but professional respect, personal admiration and an inconvenient boner for Gibbs ever since they’d worked together in Baltimore.
“Face facts, you fancied the pants off him,” he said, soaping himself up. He grabbed a washcloth and scrubbed at the tacky jizz stuck in his pubic hair. “And now you’ve got the pants off of him, and he’s…” Tony didn’t want to believe Gibbs was disgusted by him, but he couldn’t summon up any belief that he wasn’t, either. He spent the rest of his shower forcing down his fear and hurt until he thought he could get out without wanting to curl up and howl.
He dried himself roughly, tossing the wet towel into the hamper in the corner, then made himself go and strip the bed. It was small; he hadn’t wanted to feel an empty expanse around him every time he used it, not when he’d gotten all too used to sleeping wrapped around Wendy, his fiancée. Another person who’d ultimately been repulsed by his Omega nature, Tony thought sourly as he balled up the dirty sheets and threw them over to the door into the living room. He wasn’t going to leave them in his laundry hamper to stink up the room with the scents of sex, sweat and Gibbs, even if right now all he wanted was to bury his face in them and breathe deeply. He wasn’t that pathetic, he told himself angrily, spreading out a fresh sheet and tucking it in. He didn’t bother with a top sheet, left the comforter on the floor beside the closet. Pretty soon he was going to be making a mess of the bed anyway; he could feel his heat rising. Without an alpha – and without any toys or alpha pheromones to help him through, the rest of his heat was going to be brutal.
“Suck it up, DiNozzo,” he told himself, picking up the bundle of dirty linen and nudging open the door. He crossed the living room and went to the small closet where his washing machine and dryer sat, stuffing the sheets inside and quickly setting the machine to a hot wash. That done, he eyed his front door balefully. The door was locked, but the chain wasn’t on, of course. Part of him wanted to leave it off, just in case Gibbs came back.
“Stupid,” he muttered and slapped himself on the back of the head. “Don’t be pathetic.” He put the chain on and slipped the deadbolt.
Tony was laid on the couch, enjoying the feel of the cool leather against his skin, when he heard a key in the lock. The handle turned, followed rapidly by a gruff curse when the door didn’t open.
“DiNozzo! Open the damn door!”
Tony blinked stupidly for a moment, then pushed himself up. “Gibbs? What are you doing here?”
Automatically, Tony went to the door, but paused with his hand on the chain. “Why did you come back?”
“For fuck’s sake, Tony, get this door open before I kick it in!”
“Suck it up,” Tony muttered again and opened the door. He stepped back as Gibbs brushed past him, his arms full of brown paper sacks. “Boss?”
Gibbs toed off his shoes and took the bags into the kitchen. “Why’d you lock the door?” he asked without looking back.
Carefully, methodically, Tony went through the process of locking his door and when he couldn’t stall any longer, he trailed after the older man. Who was apparently stocking his fridge with cartons of juice, packets of cold cuts and had a bag of popsicles waiting to go into the freezer.
“What?” Tony stood at the entrance to his kitchen and stared dumbly. “Boss?” he asked again.
“Why’d you lock the damn door?” Gibbs frowned, putting a bag of coffee into the fridge.
At Tony’s uncharacteristic lack of words, Gibbs finally turned and looked at him. “Aw, hell,” he muttered and shut the fridge door. He crossed the small kitchen and pulled Tony into a hug, making him painfully aware that he was buck naked to Gibbs’ fully clothed. Tentatively, Tony raised his arms and put them on Gibbs’ back. “You really thought I’d leave you now? Without saying a damn thing?” He tightened the hug and cupped the back of Tony’s head, pulling him down to rest on Gibbs’ shoulder where he could breathe in the other man’s scent, coffee and sawdust, travel-sweat and sex-sweat, all combining into an aroma that had no right to be as potent and alluring as it was. Also comforting, if Tony was honest with himself, which at this point he had no intention of being, even to himself.
“No,” Tony muttered, “Course not.”
“Shh,” Gibbs said, rocking him gently. “I’ve got you.”
Tony became aware that he was shaking, taking in deep, shuddering breaths of Gibbs’ scent as he plastered himself to the other man. “Fuck,” he said shakily.
When the worst of it had passed, Gibbs loosened his hold and Tony lifted his head, shame staining his cheeks a dull red. “Sorry, boss, won’t happen again,” he said, looking over Gibbs’ shoulder.
“No, don’t apologize,” Gibbs said, his voice rough. “I shouldn’t have gone out without letting you know, but I thought I’d be back before you woke up. I hoped I’d be back,” he said with a wry smile. “Never done this before with anyone like you,” he admitted.
“Yeah, you said.” Tony pulled back, but Gibbs kept a hand on his neck. “You don’t have to. Stay, that is. It’s fine.”
“Hey! Look at me,” Gibbs ordered. “Do I look like I’m going anywhere? Do I look like I want to? You ever know me do something I didn’t want to? No? Then stop with the crap, DiNozzo. I’ll see you through the rest of your heat, but I’m doing it right. We’re doing this right.”
Tony saw the truth in those steely blue eyes and nodded at last. “Okay. But put those popsicles in the freezer, I don’t want them melting all over my counter.”
Unlike what popular movies – and porn, Tony’s traitorous brain added – might portray, his heat wasn’t one long, animalistic round of athletic sex. Gibbs made him eat a little, drink a lot of juice and engage in what could only be described as cuddling while a college basketball game played on the TV. After it was over, Gibbs led him back into the bedroom and spooned up behind him while they napped again for a couple more hours, then fucked him leisurely without them changing position. Tony slept through Gibbs’ knot deflating, slept until the small hours of the morning, when a fresh wave of heat swept over him and he turned in Gibbs’ arms and kissed him awake.
“Mm?” Gibbs tightened his arm around Tony’s waist as he moved against him. “Tony?”
“Need you,” Tony whispered. “Can I?”
Gibbs kissed him in answer and rolled onto his back, Tony following, pressing him into the mattress and grinding down until Gibbs was hard and Tony was whimpering into his mouth. “I’ve got you,” Gibbs murmured, stroking his hand down Tony’s back and palming his ass. “Come on, Tony, let me take care of you. Take what you need.”
Tony whimpered again and reached between them, wrapping a hand round Gibbs’ cock. He thumbed the head a couple of times, then angled it to press at his opening. With little resistance and copious amounts of slick, Gibbs slid in and Tony grunted in satisfaction.
“God, you feel good,” he said, rocking down and circling his hips. That set the pace for this round, a slow, rocking grind, plastered together from head to hips, hands gripping on either side of Gibbs’ head, kissing until they broke apart to pant into each other’s mouths. “Fuck, I can feel your knot coming,” Tony groaned. “Feels so damn good.”
Gibbs bent his knees and thrust up once, twice, until his knot was securely lodged in Tony’s ass and swore as he started coming. “Fuck! Tony, come on.”
Tony’s eyes fluttered closed and he ground down once more, tightening around Gibbs’ cock, rubbing his own cock on Gibbs’ abs. He came with a sigh, adding a smear of come to the mess between them. Slowly, he relaxed, letting Gibbs take his weight, and a minute later, his deepening breathing, soft huffs that puffed over Gibbs’ collarbone, over his shoulder, let Gibbs know he’d fallen asleep again.
Gibbs slid a hand out from under Tony’s and as gently as he knew how, he cupped the back of Tony’s head. The urge to keep him safe, to look after him in ways he knew Tony had never been gifted, was almost overwhelming, but Gibbs knew it would pass. Once Tony’s heat was over, he’d pull away again, his habitual and well-earned distrust of too much intimacy would see to that. But for now, Tony trusted him in a fundamental, instinctual way and Gibbs didn’t want to do anything to shake that trust. He’d been betrayed, abandoned and abused by pretty much everyone he should ever have been able to rely on. Gibbs made himself a silent promise as Tony slept, that he wouldn’t become one of that number.
A couple of days later, Tony’s heat was well and truly over and both men were back at work, keeping long hours to catch up on all the paperwork that had built up while they were away. Or at least, Tony was catching up on his own paperwork and as much of Gibbs’ as he was allowed to do while Gibbs was sequestered in MTAC, overseeing operations halfway around the world that Tony hadn’t the clearance to be read in on.
And that set their pattern for the next few years: Tony mostly managed to remember to check his hormone levels so he had enough warning to start his suppressants, but a couple of times he simply hadn’t had time, or had been too exhausted to remember. When he’d been undercover, on the run and chained to a serial killer, he hadn’t had access to his testing kit – his cover was a beta – and it turned out that Jeffrey White, in addition to being a seemingly mild-mannered, timid antiques smuggler, was also an alpha, and the constant exposure combined with whatever White had drugged him with to throw him into heat. It was coming on fast by the time Gibbs reached him, yanking open the car door and kneeling beside him as he sat, dazed, covered in White’s blood.
That had been a rough heat, even with Gibbs helping him through it. Tony still felt off-kilter, out of sorts; between the drugging, his heat, hell, even his undercover persona – all of it made him feel anxious, angry, itchy under his skin, and Gibbs had to pin him face-down to the mattress to stop Tony trying to tear himself off Gibbs’ knot to get away. Instinct had Gibbs biting the back of Tony’s neck too, and Tony bucked wildly one last time, then subsided, suddenly boneless. He cried silently, his tears wicked away by the sheet, and when at last Gibbs pulled free and turned Tony to face him, he couldn’t explain why he was crying, didn’t know himself, but he let Gibbs hold him tightly, let him fuck the heat out of Tony whenever it got too much to bear. He let Gibbs feed him, drank the juice Gibbs pressed on him, let Gibbs wash him down in the shower, over and over, until at last he didn’t feel as though his skin was crawling off his bones and he could take a deep breath without smelling the coppery scent of blood at the back of his throat.
Things changed between them with the addition of Kate to the team. Tony didn’t know whether Gibbs told her not to listen to him out of a need to be the only boss on the team or whether it was because Tony was an omega. Hell, it could be any fucking thing, he thought sourly as Kate did pretty much as she pleased and didn’t seem to realize that her experience as a Secret Service agent in no way qualified her to be on an investigative team at NCIS. Her profiling skills were theoretical only, untested in the field, and frequently failed in the face of contact with criminals and victims alike. Still, she was his to teach and protect and he did to the best of his abilities, pushing her in as creative ways as possible so that she didn’t even realize she was learning from him, becoming a half-way passable agent, and when she died – when Ari murdered her – Tony was, quietly, devastated.
Between his grief, the stresses of the job and the lingering health issues from such a serious illness as the pneumonic plague, Tony’s heats stopped altogether for the best part of a year. When his hormones finally kicked back into cycle, he’d gone from a 16 week cycle to a somewhat erratic 12 week cycle, much to his disgust. But he made sure he had at least one 5 day set of suppressants at his apartment, hidden in the filing cabinet behind his desk and stashed in his go-bag, just in case. And because he really didn’t trust the newest member of his team – Ziva David, Ari’s half-sister, Mossad agent and likely Israeli spy – Tony kept his tablets disguised in bottles of Advil. The tablets were similar enough that casual inspection wouldn’t immediately identify them, but the bottles themselves had expired dates on them, so if anyone asked for painkillers, he’d be able to shrug and decline. Also, he had a fresh bottle of Advil in the top drawer of his desk, the most likely place anyone would go looking for them. It was a good plan, he thought, and it worked for a few years, through accidents and incidents, through Gibbs leaving and returning, through promotions and demotions, love and heartbreak and undercover and unsanctioned operations, right up until it backfired.
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