Chapter 3

Gibbs did the same as Tony, grabbing a pair of jeans and crossing to the dresser and getting a T-shirt, a NIS one to spite the bastard out there. "He pulled out a pair of Tony's underwear, shaking his head, but before he handed them over, nodded just once, grabbing his own knit boxers and stripping down himself. He placed a gentle hand on Tony's neck and directed him toward the bathroom.

"Shower. Don't know when we'll get the chance to again. Quick ones too, DiNozzo. Don't want him to get touchy." It wasn't lost on Gibbs that they were both naked and ... not soft. "That thing ever go down?" he asked before he'd weighed the words and censored himself.

"What thing?" Tony started to automatically ask before realizing exactly what that thing was the man was referring to. "I didn't get my morning exercise," he tried to quip, "and looks like you didn't either." The hand on his neck directing him felt just right in a way he wasn't anywhere near ready to question yet. Stepping into the bathroom, he glanced at his waterproof watch and then at the shower. "How quick? Should we share?"

He'd tried to make the words sound oh so very casual, not at all as if he were anxious about it. Men shared showers in locker rooms all the time. Tony was an old hand at that. Surely he could share a shower in a smaller space with Gibbs for the sake of efficiency and not feel branded as gay for it?

"No wonder you have such a strong grip," Gibbs muttered. Gibbs' thighs and abs tensed when Tony mentioned his own raging hard-on. He didn't exactly want attention drawn there, especially when his wouldn't quit either.

Gibbs swallowed hard. "You first. We both use electric shavers. I'll shave before my shower, you shave after." He motioned to Tony's hard-on. "Take care of that, willya. Gonna get you in trouble with Pee Wee out there. He's been checkin ya out."

Gibbs couldn't believe what he was saying. Was he really telling Tony to jack off in his presence? And why did that send a pure shaft of desire down his spine, making him ache. He met Tony's gaze in the mirror and swallowed hard. "You ... shower." It was more a plea than a demand.

"Yes Boss!" Tony practically leapt into the tub, drawing the shower curtain closed and turning on the water nice and hot to run over his body. Gibbs wanted him to masturbate? Could he actually do it with the man only a few feet away able to hear everything?

Shaking his head in disbelief, he soaped up, did his hair, and rinsed off in record time. Then he tried cold water, yelping slightly when it hit him like blades of ice. But it didn't work. The boner was still stubbornly rock hard, prompting him to turn it back to hot and let it run down his back as he leaned forward, placing his left hand to the wall for support.

He started thinking about women as his right hand began a slow stroke from root to crown, Tony not being one to hurry when it came to self-pleasuring. So many women, several special ones, especially one he'd called friend and fellow agent, stuck in his mind. He imagined them one by one, alone, with him, and even with each other. Still, his boner stayed stubborn.

"Christ what is wrong with me?" he mumbled, not realizing that in such a small area the acoustics were perfect for Gibbs to hear him even over the sound of that running water. "Think of Ziva, hell, think of Abs ... no Ziva ... no Abs AND Ziva ... Yeah ... kiss her ... you know ya wanna ... kiss her tit now, take it, Abs ... take it and twist it hard, punish that bitch for me, make her pay for me." His hand moved faster, but after several more pleading-type commands in his erotic day dream of those two co-workers, he gave up with a frustrated cry and slammed his fists into the wall. "What the hell is wrong with me?!"

And then he did it. It was like watching himself in a movie, unable to stop his body from doing what it was doing despite the screaming in his head to stop, to oh my God stop now you stupid bastard before it's too late.

Tony carefully moved aside the curtain to peek out at Gibbs while he shaved. His eyes went right to the man's muscled back, down his trim waist to those powerful hips and then settled on that sculpted ass. He licked his lips, his hand suddenly starting up a new stroke as he watched every move Gibbs made, every breath that body took, every clenching that perfect ass showed.

He stroked harder and faster, and this time he felt it work. He was building to blow, and the pressure became so intense so swiftly he had to put out his other hand to the wall again. The pressure and the pleasure of that building soon had him moaning, licking his lips again, and whimpering with pure male need as his eyes stayed locked on Gibbs' form. If the man saw anything of it in the mirror, Tony was completely oblivious to it.

"Oh God Boss," he keened, unable to keep his second hand off himself as he blew. Normally the experience was satisfactory, one handed, clean up with the other hand, get out of bed or the shower, go to work. This time it was so mind-blowing he was squeezing his balls too, and Tony couldn't remember any time in his life he'd ever squeezed his balls, or even wanted a girl to squeeze them for him.

But there he was, shooting a thick arc of cream out of the tub towards Gibbs, one hand pumping furiously at his spending shaft, the other hand squeezing the hell out of his poor confused balls. And then he lost his balance, keening with pleasure one minute, crying with shock the other, he slipped and came crashing out of the tub right at Gibbs.

Gibbs had been aware of everything, every move, every damned predicable word Tony said. For the first portion of the shower he'd leaned against the counter, head bowed, trying to make sense of all of this. He didn't want to believe but there was a skittering in his gut that told him that the weasel wasn't lying. He had to do whatever he could to make sure DiNozzo stayed safe--and stable. Seeing Tony fall apart was a little slice of hell and Gibbs cursed himself for getting to emotionally involved with the team.

Losing them--Especially Abbs and Duck--it was losing his family all over again. And dammit whatever PeeWee said, they'd existed. he'd held his baby girl in his arms, he'd changed her diapers, he'd made love with Shannon, watching her eyes shine on their wedding day, the sass on the day he'd first met her.

He started to get emotional and rammed those feelings down--way down where they couldn't distract him. That was emotion to be tackled in the dead of night when he was completely alone.

When Tony started talking about Abby and Ziva together--one of Gibbs' fantasies, though he'd never tell anyone--his cock didn't have any more of a reaction, even as he tried to picture the images. He shook his head and grabbed his shaver, running it over the contours of his face and neck. At least that hadn't changed. The landscape of his body was identical, sore knee and all.

Hearing Tony's frustration, Gibbs sighed and considered leaving him alone but he couldn't quite leave. It wasn't that the other man's jacking off turned him on--he felt quite neutral about it. There was just some primal urge inside him that warned him he couldn't leave Tony, not even for a few feet.

As he studied his face in the mirror, he heard Tony ask what was wrong with him and had to bite back a comment. He saw the shower curtain twitch and heard DiNozzo's breathing speed up. Was Tony checking him out and ... Christ, he was! The sharpness of male arousal got stronger, the room became electric with energy.

DiNozzo was getting off watching him.

Instead of disgust, that old familiar bolt of arousal shot down his spine to lodge in his balls and he clenched his ass cheeks in response. His cock had been hard and aching for a while now, not going down despite the stress of what was happening to them. Now he was leaking, little drops appearing at the tip without him even milking them out.