Cyndra Rae (cyndrarae) wrote,
Cyndra Rae

Wrong at the top of my Voice: Chapter Ten

Previous Chapter      ||       Masterpost


“You know, you're sweet. You really are. And you look a little like my brother Fred. Do you mind if I call you Fred?”

January 26, 2008. Washington DC

When Tony finally emerged from the bathroom, he found Damon sprawled across the bed on his side, his head propped up on one elbow. He was looking at Tony and he was grinning.

“Shut up,” Tony grumbled. Now that he’d evicted the excess alcohol from his system, he felt a little more lucid and in control.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“But you were thinking it.”

“Thinking what?”

“Oh please! You were thinking I barf like a girl!” Damon guffawed, falling back to the bed on his back even as Tony continued to make outraged noises. “Let me remind you, I happen to be a federal agent, and I usually don’t drink this much. And I definitely do not mix my drinks like you’ve been making me do all night. It’s against… federal agent protocol.”

Damon laughed again and Tony scowled but barely so. He’d rather have the marine assume it was the alcohol that made him sick, and not the terrible guilt of what Tony had set out to do. What he’d almost done. Question was – what was he supposed to do now?

His phone beeped. Where are you? Everything ok?

Tony blinked. Good old McGee probably wanted to know how it went – their big bad master plan. He shook his head and texted back, At a friend’s. A.O.K. Good night.

“Hey you,” Damon called. “I’m feeling a little left out here.”

Tony chuckled to hide his nervousness. Damon, stretched out on the bed, was a sight to behold, one that took Tony’s breath away. God knew he wanted Damon, but his lack of experience implied he didn’t exactly know what that meant.

“Come on, don’t be nervous,” Damon held a hand out for Tony to take. As he’d done all night, he had managed to read Tony’s mind again. The agent bit his lip and ignored the butterflies in his stomach, then took Damon’s offered hand and let the marine pull him onto the bed.

“Relax, just relax,” Damon laid Tony down on his back, and draped himself over him without crushing him. His hands caressed Tony – his chest, his stomach, his flanks, but he waited for permission before lowering his lips to Tony’s.

“You sure you wanna kiss this mouth? I just threw up, you know.”

“Shut up and kiss me.” Tony did as he was told.

It was their second kiss, one that was not about to be interrupted because Tony had heard Damon lock the door. It started slow, teasing, testing, and Tony realized Damon was not going to be the one to kick it up, so he did. He parted his lips and pulled Damon in, even as his tongue sought its own way into Damon’s mouth. The taste of mouthwash mixed with beer and champagne and a hint of mint that Damon had probably popped into his mouth sometime while Tony was in the bathroom.

It was deep and beautiful and all-consuming. It was everything Tony had imagined it would be. But he wanted more, more than this gentle, handle-with-care pace Damon had going, damn it he wanted so much more.

Tony wrapped his arms around Damon’s chest, squeezing hard to express his need for urgency and speed, and Damon obliged, leaning down heavily on Tony and putting more power behind his tongue. Tony let his head fall back and allowed Damon to conquer his mouth with everything he’d got. Music floated up through the open windows into their bedroom with the occasional jingle of laughter. The knowledge that they weren’t exactly alone fueled the eroticism of the moment. Soon enough, Tony felt a hardness starting to rub against his own. He gasped, pulling out of the kiss just as Damon pulled up to study his flushed face.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, keep going…” Tony rasped. Damon once again started to thrust against him, over and over again until all of Tony’s senses were on fire.

Tony had pulled his scarf off sometime before he got sick, allowing Damon to mouth the crook of Tony’s neck. It was all too much – the pleasure of Damon’s hardness humping against his, combined with the sucking-biting pain and a hickey being born into existence. Tony moaned loudly, his spine arching up against Damon’s as he came in his pants.

“Ah, fuck…” he moaned and grunted loudly, whiting out for a second. When he came to, Damon was still leaning over him, planting soft innocent kisses all over his face.

“Did you…?”

Damon licked his lips, “Apparently I need a little more help.”

Tony blushed a little and it made Damon laugh. “You’re so cute when you blush.”

“Shut up, don’t ever say that again!”

“Why not?”

“DiNozzos don’t blush!” Tony declared vehemently and rolled Damon over so he was the one on top and Damon on his back. “So do you want my help or not?”

Damon shut up immediately, but couldn’t get rid of that annoying little smirk.

“W-what do you want me to do?” Tony asked, a little anxious.

Damon looked up into his eyes. “Have you ever touched another guy, Tony?”

“Uh, I never actually got that far.”

“It’s okay, do you want to try now?”

Tony swallowed, and let his hand travel down Damon’s chest to his belly and finally to his groin. He felt the stiff bulge through the denim of his jeans and reflexively pulled back.

“Sorry, not so good with my hands.”

“It’s alright,” Damon’s voice was strained, like even the brief caress of Tony’s hand had done a number on him. “It gets better. Besides, I told you I’m very good with my hands, remember?”

Tony blinked, remembering their ‘altercation’ in Gibbs’ basement. “That was… for me?”

Damon rolled his eyes, “No, for Gibbs. Duh! I’ve been hitting on you since the moment I laid eyes on you, Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. You had no idea, did you?”

Tony blushed again, “Very Special Agent, and the first time you laid eyes on me you were literally hitting me.”

“Close your eyes,” Damon ordered and Tony complied. Damon rolled him over so they were on their sides facing each other. Tony heard a zipper being pulled down, not his, and his heart started to race. He took Tony’s hand and placed it on his shaft. Tony gasped.

He’d never held another man’s dick in his hands before. It was… hard, obviously, and thick and really heavy and long, and searing hot in his hands. Its throbbing felt like nothing Tony had ever felt before. He felt Damon’s breaths get rapid and erratic and it made him smile. Slowly he opened his eyes and looked down. God, it was a monstrosity. It was beautiful.

“Tony, please… do something,” Damon hissed, clearly in agony.

Tony started to move his hand up and down the shaft, squeezing towards the end and loosening his grip as moved back up towards the base, just as he liked it done to himself. Damon kept his own hand over Tony’s but let the agent lead. Slowly and steadily, his touch got bolder and firmer until the marine couldn’t hold out any longer. He climaxed in Tony’s hands with a loud grunt, burying his face into Tony’s neck as he did so.

“Holy… wow,” Tony declared, feeling his own erection stirring again. “W-was that okay?”

“Okay?” Damon asked incredulously, his speech slurred like it hadn’t been after all the beers and shots of whiskey and vodka he’d poured down his throat. “That was awesome! Fucking brilliant!”

Tony grinned before reaching out for a box of tissues beside the bed to clean himself and Damon up. That done he rolled over, pulling Damon back on top of himself. This time he initiated the kiss, letting Damon languorously explore the depths of Tony’s mouth to his complete satisfaction.

“Tony,” Damon whispered a few minutes later. “I wanna see you, all of you.”

Tony shivered. Part of him longed to get rid of his soiled clothes (he’d just come in his pants!) but the rest of him felt hesitant and, well, shy. He was a psychoanalyst’s dream come true – a shining example of how a person could be both narcissistic and suffer an inferiority complex at the same time. In the end, the choice was made for him by the stark longing and adoration in Damon’s eyes. He decided he’d do just about anything to have those eyes stay on him, just like that.

“Well,” Tony smiled coyly, “Usually I charge for stuff like this, but since you asked nicely…” he slithered off the bed and stood besides Damon who sat up himself. Another bout of raucous laughter filtered through their windows and Tony shivered again.

“Listen, if you don’t want to…”

“I want to,” Tony retorted, breathing deeply. “Question is can you handle the full-frontal force of Anthony D. DiNozzo in all his naked glory…”

Damon sneered mockingly. “I’ll take my chances.”

“Okay,” Tony stalled again. “Of course I should let you know I don’t really hit the gym as often as I once used to. Work pressures and all that…”

“Get on with it,” Damon chided folding his arms, and waited.

Tony unbuttoned his shirt slowly and shrugged out of it, letting it drop to the floor. Then he toed his shoes and socks off, undoing his leather belt. Damon followed every moment with his eyes, looking hungrier by the minute. Tony swallowed as he let his jeans drop and kicked them aside. He was down to his black boxer-briefs and never had he been so aware of his own body before. He awkwardly stuck his thumbs in the waistband and pulled them down, hurriedly stepping out of them before he changed his mind. And there he stood, buck naked, watching as Damon’s mouth fell open and his eyes practically feasted on Tony’s body from head to toe.

Tony tried to laugh the nerves off, feeling his skin starting to heat up again. And just as Damon started to smirk again, Tony glared. “If you say ‘blush’ one more time, I will walk out right now and you’ll never see me again.”

“But you’d be walking out naked.”

“And wouldn’t you like that?”

“Not at all,” Damon replied without missing a beat. “I don’t want anyone else laying their eyes on you.” Shifting to lean back against the headboard, he spread an arm out and patted the bed by his side, “Come on up here.”

Tony nervously approached the bed and did as he was told, falling into Damon’s arms and letting the man envelope him in an unbelievable blanket of body heat. It was sensuous, and sort of exhilarating, being naked while Damon was still clothed. It was also really frightening.

“Hey listen, seeing as you’re the one with all the… uh, experience here, I’m letting you lead, for a change, but I-I don’t think I’m ready to –”

“Shh,” Damon made Tony lie on his back, and gently pulled the covers up around him. He kissed the agent’s lips gently, chastely, a couple more times. “We don’t have to do anything tonight. I can take you home now if you want… or we could just, you know… sleep here; stay the night.”

“You sure your friends won’t mind?”

Damon simply shook his head. Tony wondered if the reason why his friends didn’t mind was because Damon had done this before, and they were used to it. Of course, he kept his thoughts to himself, surprised by how bothered he was with the idea of Damon dating other people.

He was startled out of his thoughts when Damon left his side to stand at the same spot Tony had occupied minutes ago, and started stripping down himself. He was more confident and more than happy to put on a show. Tony stared just as blatantly, expecting but still blown by the perfection of Damon’s body. Godly chest-to-stomach proportions, every inch solid, rippling muscle – an aerodynamic masterpiece. Tony had a spattering of body hair himself, even though it was scant and such a pale shade of gold to be barely visible. But Damon was smooth and hairless everywhere. In short, he was hot.

“Well?” Damon winked at him, reaching over with a hand to lift up Tony’s dropped jaw.

Tony just gulped, wondering what in hell’s name a guy like Damon saw in someone like him.

Damon scoffed. “Seriously?”

Did he just say that out loud?

“Yes you did, sweetheart.”

Tony’s face turned a beetroot red and cursed the free booze for his ineptitude.

“Tony,” Damon cupped Tony’s face in his gargantuan hands and forced the agent to look up into his eyes. “You’re the hottest guy I’ve ever laid eyes on. God, sometimes when I look at you, naked or not… it’s hard to breathe, I have no words to describe how, how exquisite you are.”

Tony scoffed, not believing Damon for a second. “Exquisite. That’s an adjective I never thought would ever apply to me. That’s just so, um… gay!”

He pulled his face out of Damon’s hands and started to chortle. Damon shook his head. “There it is – the notorious deflecting powers of DiNozzo humor.”

“Okay, if we’re doing this, you gotta stop talking to Ziva ‘cause see she used to have this insane crush on me and she never really got over it so…”

“She told me you’d say that.”

Tony scoffed again (this time really incensed) and Damon chuckled as he moved away from the bed, giving Tony a glimpse of his toned back and gloriously tight butt. Tony would have whistled, if he could remember how, and if his head wasn’t still pounding from all the alcohol.

Damon switched off all the lights except a little night lamp, then returned and got under the covers behind Tony, spooning the agent as casually and nonchalantly as if they’d been married for years and years. Tony stiffened at first. But Damon made no attempts at small-talk nor did he try to put the moves on. Apparently, he really did just want to sleep.

It was a couple minutes before Tony allowed himself to relax into the arms wrapped around him, another few before he found himself actively snuggling back into the body behind.

“Jeez,” he mumbled absently, “you’re like a furnace.” Not that he was complaining.

“Sleep, Tonio, I’ll watch over you.”

Tony almost sneered; such a cheesy yet ridiculously heartwarming thing to say. Damon kissed the top of Tony’s head and held him close, until the pull of exhaustion and intoxication became too strong to resist, and Tony drifted away.


McGee was not happy. First Abby dragged him to the club on U-street looking for Tony. When they couldn’t find him there, she made him go all the way to his apartment for his laptop so he could track Tony and Damon by the GPS on their phones. Then she dragged him all the way to Columbia Heights to this townhouse that belonged to Michael Manning – the Michael Manning – Werth’s high school lover who’d come very close to a psychotic breakdown when Werth broke up with him to join the Corps.

“What could they possibly be doing here?” He asked out loud, not expecting an answer because Abby knew nothing about Manning and Werth’s history.

“It’s a house party and they’re on a date! And if Tony is somewhere in there, we’re going in to make sure he’s okay. Preferably without letting him know.”

“Know what, that we’re snooping on him?”

“It’s what he would do for either of us, McGee.” Abby was adamant as she parked her hearse and got out, Tim close on her heels.

“Abby, seriously, we’re not going to gatecrash a party, are we?”

“What, like it’s hard?”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s wrong! Besides, I’m sure Tony’s fine. He’s a big boy much as he acts to the contrary. He can take care of himself.” Tim grimaced, even as he said that. They’d all seen first-hand what Werth was capable of in one of his rampant fits of rage.

“Physically, he’s safe. Damon will take care of him, I know that. But mentally… I just wanna be sure,” Abby sounded serious.

Tim decided to shut up for now and follow her lead.

It was nearly two AM and the party was still going strong. Good thing the property had tons of open space that separated the house from the neighbors. Otherwise the noise would have surely invited a visit or two from the cops.

“Hey you! Long time!!” Abby was seriously a pro at this. She pretended she knew random people as she walked through the crowd, starting at one end of the living area until she reached the other. Tim trailed her obediently, laptop gripped in one hand.

“Check again, Timmy. He’s here, right?”

Tim looked at the red blips shining on his screen. “They’re together, and they are definitely here somewhere.”

“There’s another floor, come on.”

There were three bedrooms upstairs – one was the master bedroom where they found two couples making out, one on the bed and another on the floor. The second room looked like a brand new nursery still under construction which thankfully was not being desecrated by any orgies. And the third bedroom was locked.

“There’s a night light on in there,” Abby said as she kneeled and peeked through the keyhole. “Tim, do you think Tony and Damon are… you know?”

“Oh?” Tim was confused, until he was not. “Oh!!” And then he was kind of weirded out. “Oh God, that’s an image I could’ve done without. Thanks, Abby.”

Abby was peeking back through the keyhole. “How about we just knock and see who opens the door? But if it is Tony inside he’ll be so pissed off. Bad idea. Think Abigail, think!”

She stood up and paced while Tim leaned against the wall, tired and sleepy. He wouldn’t admit it, but he really had been looking forward to that recital.

“Ah, hell, I’m over-thinking it,” Abby declared, then pulled out her phone and dialed a number, then stuck her ear right against the keyhole. She waited, and Tim waited. And waited.

She huffed. “Tony must have his ringer off. Okay, let’s try Damon.”

Again she stuck her ear to the keyhole and waited. Suddenly she perked up. “Damon! Hi! Um… sorry, is this a bad time?”

Tim rushed to kneel beside her and listen, not that he could hear much.

“I-I was trying to reach Tony and he’s not picking up his phone and … Oh? ... Oh! ... Great! I mean, um, if he’s sleeping that’s fine … No, don’t wake him. I’ll catch up with him tomorrow… you have a good night! ... Bye.”

She hung up with a huge grin on her face. Tim just slumped against the wall again, relieved the hunt was over and his friend was satisfied at last.

Later in the car, on their way to an all-night diner, Abby was about to turn to Tim to say “I told you so” for the fifteenth time.

“Stop!” He begged tiredly. “Okay, you were right. You know Tony better than I do. Just give me a minute to process this, alright?”

Abby usually never got this hyper until after her third CafPow. “Whatever happened between them, I hope it makes Tony stop blaming Damon and realize his issues with Gibbs have nothing to do with Damon at all.”

“And what if he doesn’t? What if that ugly green monster surfaces again the next time he sees Gibbs bonding with Damon while treating Tony like an unwanted step-child?”

She huffed. “Well, he’ll just have to take it up with Gibbs, not Damon.”

“Just because you can say whatever you want to Gibbs doesn’t mean everyone else can too.”

“Trust me, McGee. Even I have my limits when it comes to the boss.” She recounted the last time she’d tried speaking to Gibbs about Tony.

“Permission to speak freely, Boss-man?”

“You always speak freely, Abs.”

“Yes, but I really need your permission this time.”

That caught Gibbs’ attention and he turned to face her. “What is it?”

Abby bit her lip and went for it. “Why are you punishing Tony?”

Gibbs’ eyes didn’t waver once. “I’m not.”

“Then what is it? He was only doing his job, a job given to him by the Director in your absence.”

Gibbs exhaled and started to walk out of her lab. “Let me know when you have something.”

“What I have is a question and you’re not answering it!”

He turned then, his eyes squinted dangerously. “I permitted you to speak, not to question me about how I run my damn team.”

Before she could recover from the rebuke, he turned around and walked away.

“We all assume Gibbs is perfect but he’s not,” she mumbled sadly. “It’s a common mistake.”

Tim nodded. “I thought the two of them will work it out eventually. But that was over six months ago.”

He noticed Abby white-knuckling the steering wheel, but kept his mouth shut.

“I’m hoping the whole Gibbs situation wouldn’t matter now that Tony has Damon. Maybe the reason he’s been obsessing over Gibbs is because it’s coming right after his break-up with Jeanne, and he is feeling lonely and vulnerable? Maybe Damon can fix that.”

McGee looked out of his window. “You’re making one huge assumption, Abs.”

“What’s that?”

“That Tony is capable of choosing anyone over Gibbs.”

After a long drawn out sigh, Abby finally conceded. “Good point.”

They drove in silence after that.


Next Chapter >


Tags: fic: ncis: wrong at the top of my voice

  • Post a new comment


    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded