Cyndra Rae (cyndrarae) wrote,
Cyndra Rae

Wrong at the top of my Voice: Epilogue

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“Cross your heart and kiss your elbow!”

February 20, 2008. Montevideo, Uruguay

Damon stood guard at the halfway line of the Jardines del Hipódromo soccer stadium.

It was the home stadium of Danubio, a soccer club based here in Montevideo, the capital city of Uruguay. Danubio were the reigning champions for two years running. But some players had received death threats from a local mafia outfit amid gambling controversies surrounding the national league about to kick off next week. Damon wasn’t told much else about it. He and his unit of four, three grunts and a squid were given one standing order – keep your mouth shut and don’t ask too many questions. They were bodies standing in the line of fire, not detectives out to fight crime in a foreign country.

So that’s what they did. They safeguarded the team of fourteen players currently busy practicing their penalty kicks over on one side of the field. Together, the five Americans formed a perimeter around them. They were dressed more or less the same way, suited to the time of the year which happened to be hot summer around these parts. Damon was in a black short-sleeved t-shirt and green camouflage pants along with black boots and dark brown shades. At least they weren’t required to wear monkey suits and douchey black sunglasses that made them look like the idiots from Men in Black.

Damon chuckled to himself. Tony would have taken serious offence to that, no one called Tommy Lee Jones an idiot on his watch. Just as the thought occurred to him, Damon cursed under his breath. He’d done it again. He just couldn’t stop thinking about Tony.

It’d been three weeks since he left DC to come to Uruguay for this assignment. Three weeks of an exciting new country, new culture, new food, new friends, of trying so very enthusiastically to grow his hair out. Three weeks of doing what he’d always done best and loved: to serve and protect, and strut about like the big tough marine he once was.

No such thing as an ex-marine, son.

Three weeks of missing Gibbs and the rest of the gang, of getting drunk and pining miserably for Tony, then getting drunk some more and grieving for the relationship that never was. Three weeks of sleeplessness because he couldn’t catch a wink without his dreams being colored in gold and green and even more Tony…

Damon was distracted (thankfully) when another loud cheer went up on the field behind him. He spoke a little Spanish and could understand some of what they said. But the language here was a different version, called Riverplate Spanish. It had influences from many different languages, some dead and others not, had a bit of Italian in there somewhere too. Damon kicked empty air in frustration, once again reminded of the half-Italian agent.

“Hey, big guy!” Bruno, the youngest player and center forward for his team, came running up to Damon. He’d taken a liking to the American over the past couple weeks and Damon didn’t mind him too much either.

“Come on, Werth! I show you how to take penalty shot, dale!!”

Damon shook his head apologetically. He really wasn’t in the mood. Besides, he had an M16 slung around his neck, what was he supposed to do with that?

“No, no, um… Ni a palos!”

His foreign accent entertained the kid and made him laugh, and after awhile he gave up on him but managed to rope in the squid to play. Damon watched his fellow American kick the ball straight into the goalie’s hands and sniggered. The impromptu USA versus Uruguay game was still on when Damon sensed the presence of a stranger in their midst. He turned back towards the perimeter just in time to spot someone coming up the far end of the stadium.

It was a tall, Caucasian man with golden skin and honey-brown hair. He wore a pair of fashionable blue jeans, a white shirt with sleeves folded to his elbows, and light brown Aviator glasses. He gripped a white cane with his left hand, using it for support as he slowly limped his way onto the field.

Damon squinted against the bright sun to get a better look, and froze.

The outsider looked around surveying the place and abruptly stopped when his eyes landed on Damon. He had no idea how long he stood there, watching the man with the cane just as the man stared back, glued to his own spot. Bruno’s loud voice boomed somewhere behind him, breaking Damon out of his trance. Then the stranger lifted his free hand up to wave at him.

Damon didn’t wave back.


Tony felt his heart sink when Damon didn’t respond to his greeting. Maybe he’d blown it after all. Wouldn’t be the first time, definitely wouldn’t be the last.

He was contemplating turning on his heels and running away before he ended up humiliating himself more, when Damon moved. The marine was walking towards him, his strides long and sure and… yep, definitely headed towards Tony. He forced one foot ahead of the other and closed the gap until Damon was standing right there, before him, four feet away. The marine looked gorgeous and hot and so very unattainable, as always.

The damn sunglasses made it harder to read him. Tony got rid of his own glasses, hoping to prompt Damon to do the same. But the big lug refused to take a hint. At least he’d dropped the scary rifle to the ground, within reach, but still…

“What’re you doing here?” The voice wasn’t cold, and it didn’t seem angry, just confused.


Tony had thought of at least a hundred different answers to that question. They ranged from “I had this dream – you were in danger and I’m psychic so I came to warn you” to “I was in the neighborhood, in like, Bolivia, and thought I’d drop in and say hi!” to “Alright, I was a jerk. Please just take me back, please, pretty please?” In that moment though, he couldn’t think of anything.

Finally, he just shrugged and hoped his world-famous smile might do the trick. “You look good.”

Damon’s voice was calm and steady, unlike his. “You too.”

His eyes lingered at the cane in question and Tony just waved it off, “Ah, it’s nothing.”

“Tony, what are you doing here?”

Damn, just like Gibbs, completely immune to his powers of deflection. Tony looked down at his shoes before gathering the courage to look back up. “You saved my life. I wanted to say thanks.”

“Could have sent me an email. Abby has my phone number too.” Damon’s face stayed stoic and expressionless. He did cross his ludicrously bulging arms though. That was progress, sort of.

Tony bit his lip. “I-I wanted to do it in person, and a-also say that… I’m sorry.”

The armor looked like it was cracking when the Adam’s apple on Damon’s neck bobbed. “Doesn’t Gibbs have like a rule against it? That John Wayne rule?”

“Yeah, well, as you allegedly pointed out to him few days ago, and I still can’t believe you’re alive by the way… sometimes, even the almighty Gibbs is wrong.”

Damon smiled at last, and took off his own shades, allowing Tony a glimpse of his own deep and frighteningly mesmerizing eyes.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for, Tony. I, I get it… I’m just glad you didn’t take out a restraining order on me after that night in the gym.” He paused. “You didn’t, right?”

Tony chuckled and took another step closer. “I am sorry, Damon. Please just let me say this, I need to,” he whispered.

Damon nodded, and he continued. “I’m sorry for taking my personal frustrations out on you, blaming my insecurities on you. I know now how pathetic and… and wrong that was, and I can’t believe I threw away a great… um, friendship because of it.”

Damon looked at him for a few seconds in total silence. Then he took a step forward, closer to Tony. “Just friendship?”

“I couldn’t dare dream of anything more after what happened…”

Damon exhaled slowly, and pulled something out of his left pocket – a maroon scarf. “I never stopped dreaming, Tony.”

That was all it took. Tony practically jumped up into Damon’s arms, straddling him with his arms and legs while Damon held him up tightly. Lips crashed against each other and Tony lost himself inside Damon’s mouth, closed his eyes and couldn’t give a flying fuck about anything else. He tasted mint and coffee and tears, possibly his own and maybe Damon’s too. He tasted Damon, and all the warmth and safety and comfort this guy personified for him. The relief he felt was indescribable. He knew he’d been given a second chance, and he wasn’t going to let it slip out of his hands again.

They kissed for the longest time as Tony continued to cling to the taller man like he never wanted to let go.

“Whoa, wait, how did you do that?” Damon said, pulling out of the kiss when he remembered Tony’s hurt leg. He looked down at the cane lying discarded on the ground.

“Oh, that’s just for show.” Tony grinned. “I was hoping for the sympathy vote if nothing else worked.”

Damon laughed and they kissed again. The soccer team behind them started to hoot and howl and make vulgar but good-humored jokes. Suddenly realizing they had an audience, Tony blushed, hard. Damon bit his lip in time, but Tony fixed him with his deadliest glower. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking it!”

Damon laughed and didn’t deny it, adjusting his grip around Tony’s waist. He refused to let him down and started carrying his lover inside to the team’s locker room.

“Come home, Damon. Please come back with me?”

“I will, as soon as I can. We’re almost done here. I’ll be stationed in DC when not on an active missions anyway.”

Tony looked relieved and Damon grinned. “I never gave up on us, Tony.”

Damon walked into the locker room and kicked the door close behind them. He sat straddling a narrow bench, still kissing Tony, before gently laying him down along the length of the bench, Tony’s legs sprawled across his own.

Tony looked nervous. “Are we… d-do you w-want to…?”

“Shh,” Damon breathed right into his mouth. “Your first time will be in a bed in a place you’re comfortable in and it’ll be when you want it to be. Right now, let me just get a taste of you, okay?”

Tony’s eyes widened and he nodded eagerly, his head flopping back against the bench with a resounding thud. His erection was straining against its denim restrictions painfully. Damon zipped the jeans open and pushed the white boxers aside. Tony closed his eyes and moaned when Damon touched him, fondling him with both hands.

“So beautiful, I missed you so much, Tonio. Now relax and let me take care of you.”

Then he bent down and took all of Tony in his mouth. Tony gasped and if it weren’t for Damon’s expert hand clasping him around the base of his cock, he would have come already. He kissed and sucked and caressed and worshipped Tony until the thirty-three year old couldn’t remember his own name. His eyes blinked rapidly but they saw nothing. His mouth was open but no sound fell from it. Time came to a standstill and stayed that way long after Tony spurted his pent-up release. Damon lapped it all up hungrily, leaving Tony spit-slick but otherwise clean.

Once Tony recovered some of his senses, he grinned like a loon enjoying the bliss and his lover’s fervent kisses all over his face and neck. Damon pulled Tony up from the bench and hugged him to his chest tightly again.

This time Tony was the one who refused to let go.


February 24, 2008. Montevideo, Uruguay

Damon missed the Corps less and less with each passing day. He could honestly say he hadn’t missed it at all these last few days. The Corps wouldn’t let him slack off on his duties just so he could go do the touristy thing with his new boyfriend, would it?

Tony spent five days in Montevideo with him, five magical days of no work, no dangers lurking in the shadows, and no unspoken fears or agendas. Hell, with Tony around and in his element, nothing could possibly go unspoken period. Every day Damon discovered something new and quirky and utterly endearing about his man. Every day he was reminded of how fortunate he was to be in love with this gorgeous little motor-mouth.

They were chilling at an outdoor café somewhere downtown one evening when Tony stopped mid-rant and squinted at Damon. “Are you starting to get sick of hearing me talk?”

Damon sputtered. “What? N-No! I could never ever tire of hearing your sexy voice, baby. Why would you even say that?”

“Because you’ve been staring at me and nodding away but you’re totally spaced out and you haven’t heard a word of what I said in the last…” Tony looked at his watch, “nine minutes.”

“That’s… not true.”

“Oh yeah? Prove it!”

Damon cleared his throat. “Y-you were telling me about the time you walked into poison ivy, and how Gibbs laughed and laughed before he sent you down to Ducky.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “That was nine minutes ago. I’ve been telling you about the time McGee walked into poison ivy after that!”

Oh, brother. Damon grimaced and leaned forward, and took the glaring agent’s hand in his. “Okay, you’re right. Sorry, I did kinda space out. I started… um, never mind.” Damon bit his lip coyly. And that piqued Tony’s curiosity enough to make him squint.

“Started to what?”

“I started to… uh, daydream? I wished I’d been there when you came home all red and itching from the ivy. I… pictured myself taking care of you, stripping your clothes and watching you sigh in relief to finally be rid of them, running you a nice cool baking soda bath…”

“Okay! Stop, you made your point.” Tony chuckled loudly to cover up his obvious arousal. His eyes were dilated and his cheeks were flushed, God, Damon loved that look on his lover’s face.

“But I haven’t even gotten to the good part!” Damon exclaimed, feeling mischievous.

Tony sniggered. “You’re crafty, you big lug. I think I may have finally met my match.”

“And is that a good thing?”

“That’s a very good thing.”

Damon grinned happily. “I really did want to get to the good part…”

“Well, maybe you can, tonight…” Tony murmured, eyes glimmering with a suggestion that was unmistakable.

Damon’s heart skipped a beat. These past four days, Tony had had a lot of firsts… both relationship-wise and sex-wise. They had talked for hours about what they expected from each other, things they liked or wanted to try, things they didn’t. But they still hadn’t gone all the way. Now it was Tony’s last night in Montevideo. They wouldn’t see each other for the rest of the month, not until the games ended and Damon’s unit was let off the hook for Danubio’s security.

“Are you sure? If you’re feeling pressured at all, please don’t. I can wait till I get back…”

Tony put his own hand over Damon’s. “I’m sure. I don’t wanna wait…”

Damon could only blink, dazed, and Tony’s smile spread from ear to ear. He still hadn’t found his voice back when Tony laughed and called the waiter for their tab. “Cheque, por favor?”


Tony could hear his heart thudding inside his chest.

He was staying at the Radisson, close enough so they could walk to it, hand in hand, sides brushing up against each other teasingly. They didn’t say a word the whole way. But silence with Damon didn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable. Tony felt no urgency to constantly be saying something witty or funny to keep the man interested.

Huh, so this is what being secure felt like, he mused.

Every time he looked up into Damon’s face, he found the brandy eyes looking right back at him. Every time he looked away to focus on the way (someone had to), Tony could still feel Damon’s heated gaze on him. He felt wanted, and treasured, the center of someone’s universe. Tony had never felt that way before either.

They walked into his room on the twelfth floor half hour later with a bottle of champagne. Soon as the door closed, Damon pulled Tony into an embrace and kissed him, hard. Tony whimpered his approval, caught by surprise but not minding in the least. He could feel himself stirring in his pants and was just about to hook one leg up and around Damon when the marine pulled away.

“Hey, not nice,” he whined.

Damon chuckled. “Look at the time, baby. It’s eight.”

“So?” He tugged Damon back to himself and kissed him again.

Damon gave in for a few seconds, before pulling apart and breathing his apology into Tony’s ear. “So… you gotta do that Skype thing with your people, remember? Go let them know you’re okay and not to send the CIA looking for you.”

“My people might be nosy and overzealous, but they know I can take care of myself.”

“Fine, just let them know I haven’t grown horns yet and am still treating you like a princess.”

“Fuck you!” Tony shoved at Damon’s chest.

Damon chuckled, “Soon enough!” He turned Tony around, pointed him toward the mahogany desk by the window, and smacked his butt to send him on his way.

“Oww,” Tony glared at him but went to his laptop anyway.

“I’ll wait for you in the shower,” Damon winked before heading into the bathroom. Tony longed to follow his sexy stud-muffin of a boyfriend in there right now. But Damon had a point. He had to make this call or risk Abby and Ziva’s overprotective natures causing an international incident.

McGee logged on first. It was Sunday and he was still in his PJs, looking like he’d just spent ten hours non-stop playing one of his fantasy RPG games.

“So what’s the score today, Elf Lord?”

McGee yawned shamelessly. “Five thousand and counting. What’s up with you?”

“Just wrapping up. Vacation over, back to work tomorrow.”

“Mm-hm. So what utterly humiliating episode of mine did you regale Damon with today?”

Abby logged on right then. “Let me guess – poison ivy.”

“Bingo!” Tony grinned at her, wiggling his fingers at the screen just as Abby did the same on her end.

McGee looked annoyed. “You really should find other sources of entertainment for yourselves.”

“I can think of a few ‘fun things to do’, Tony, if you’re open to advice.” Ziva’s face came into focus and she smiled rakishly, winking just the way Kate used to.

Tony started to blush but quickly covered it up with a scowl. “You’ve been telling all my embarrassing stories to the whole world in your books, McSourPuss, so shut up. And Zee-vah seriously, you need to find yourself a boyfriend and stop fantasizing about mine.”

Abby grinned. “Aw, he said boyfriend!”

“Tony has a boyfriend, Tony has a boyfriend!” McGee did the sing-song thing that irked the hell out of him.

“Sour puss!” Ziva exclaimed. “That is what that idiom is!”

Tony shook his head. “Why am I friends with you three again?”

The bantering went on for another few minutes before they composed themselves.

“So we have some good news…” Abby began. “You’re going to be commended for your work on the Alvarez case, Tony. Congratulations!”

The trio clapped and waited for Tony to say something. Surprisingly, Tony didn’t have the reaction that anyone expected. He just scratched his head and shrugged. “Cool, I guess.”

No one prodded, and Tony was grateful for it. He was starting to see why Gibbs didn’t like bragging about his medals or even bother to keep them. In the grander scheme of things, he was just glad that the Portmans were okay. But he was also sad that two good men were dead, two teenage boys might grow up without a dad, and two little girls might need years of therapy to overcome the trauma of one terrifying night.

The conversation moved to their latest case. Team Gibbs had finally managed to track down the radar but they still didn’t know who the culprits were. So instead of retrieving it, they intended to monitor it for awhile to see who showed up to claim it.

“Come home soon, Tony!” Ziva implored. “Stakeouts are no fun without you.”

Tony smiled. “Hear that, Probie?” To which McGee just scoffed loudly but Tony ignored him. “Don’t worry, Ziva, am on the o-seven hundred flight tomorrow morning. I’ll be there to take the second shift. And what news of our fearless leader, compatriots?”

Ziva and McGee stayed quiet knowing Abby should be fielding this one. The forensic scientist crossed her arms. “He’s getting more and more agitated every day that you’re not here, Tony.”

“Agitated how?”

“Well, you know how Jardine sanitizes the hand sanitizer before using it?”


“Friday evening in my lab, he glared at her so hard, she forgot.”

“Forgot to sanitize the sanitizer or to use–? Ugh, doesn’t, matter. Just let him know I’m fine, Abs.” Tony tried to sound casual, even as warmth spread through his insides at the thought of Gibbs missing him.

They hung up soon after. Unconsciously, Tony sent a hand caressing across his laptop screen where the images of his three best friends had been. Then he remembered someone else waiting for him inside the bathroom. The door was open and he could hear the shower running, the sounds of water pelting a hard body situated directly under it.

Tony stripped, strewing individual pieces of clothing on the floor all the way to the bathroom. Damon’s clothes were, of course, folded and placed in a neat little stack on the drawer chest. Finally naked and only slightly (okay, a lot) nervous, he opened the shower stall and walked in behind Damon under the warm deluge.

Damon turned, his eyes squinted against the water and landing on Tony with such want, it took the agent’s breath away. Before he knew it, he was enveloped in strong muscled arms.

“What took you so long?”

“Got stuck in traffic,” Tony grinned, and Damon laughed, capturing that wisecracking mouth with his.

They washed each other, running loofahs down each other’s backs and necks and every spot that elicited those special sounds they loved to hear from each other. Dying to move things along, Tony grabbed Damon’s roaming right hand and poured a generous dollop of shower gel onto his long, powerful fingers.

Damon smirked as he pecked at Tony’s grinning lips. They had done this before, so Tony knew what was expected of him. He hooked his foot into a soap hold built into the wall and wrapped his arms around Damon’s neck, biting into the juicy flesh at the crest of his shoulder. Damon grunted softly, and guided his soapy fingers to Tony’s waiting orifice.

Tony moaned and shuddered as the first digit wiggled its way inside him, pulling in and out in a motion that was too much and not enough all at once. “More, Damon… please…”

A second finger and then a third one entered him, thrusting in languorously, scrambling around the silken walls until they found what they were looking for. Tony whimpered as sparks ignited in his line of sight and traveled all the way down to his groin. His erection bloomed and rutted against Damon’s as Tony continued to cling to him for dear life. Damon continued to massage his sweet spot, practically lifting Tony up to his toes every time he plunged in.

Tony felt like the world had collapsed to just the two of them, nothing but emptiness outside the fogged up walls of their shower stall. Nothing mattered but the delicious sensations of fingers dipping in and out, tapping that astonishingly sensitive and potent source of mind-melding pleasure, over and over and over again. If it weren’t for his body already screaming for mercy, Tony wouldn’t want the sweet agony to stop, ever.

As it turned out, Damon managed to keep it up for only a few minutes, until Tony’s thrusts against his own hardness became harder and faster and more insistent. The opening quaked and contracted around his three digits when Tony came, and Damon followed right after.

Tony buried his face in Damon’s neck and panted, happy to rest his entire weight against him even as Damon struggled to catch his own breath. He smiled when Damon’s hands cupped the curves of his butt and squeezed. That was his way of showing his appreciation, and by the way he continued to fondle Tony’s ass, it seemed Damon was feeling very, very thankful indeed. But they’d only just begun.

“We’re not done, Marine. You better not have worn yourself out just yet,” Tony whispered into his lover’s ear, grinning when he felt Damon shiver in response.


Damon was in heaven. No doubts about it. To be in love and to have the object of your love return your affections – what could possibly be more heavenly than that?

After their little tryst in the shower, the men focused on actually washing and cleaning while their bodies recovered from their respective releases. Damon lingered at the scar on Tony’s shoulder a little too long, so the agent distracted him by demanding he shampoo Tony’s hair.

“Do I always have to do everything?!?”

“I’m sorry did I not make that clear? Fine print’s a bitch, now get to work, bucko!”

Damon mock-scowled, then twisted Tony around to do his bidding.

“This is why I love hotels,” Tony drawled as he leaned back against Damon’s chest, feeling the fingers working his scalp. “The hot water never runs out.”

Damon smiled. “Someday, I’ll take you to my family’s castle outside Inverness. They’re still quite old-fashioned up there and sometimes they will drag a giant metal bathtub into your bedroom and put it right next to the fireplace. I don’t know how they do it; the water doesn’t get cold for hours.”

Tony turned around to face him, eyes twinkling with mischief again. “You really wanna see me in a bathtub don’t you?”

Damon blinked; he hadn’t realized there was a pattern. But now that he thought about it, it wasn’t a bad fantasy to have at all. “Only because I know it’ll make you blush so prettily, and I wanna see if it goes all the way down to your toes.”

Tony snorted, pretending to punch Damon in the stomach but starting to color already.

Afterwards, they collapsed onto the king-sized bed, naked and dripping. They lay on their sides, facing each other. The lights in the room were dimmed, and the temperature was just right so they didn’t need the covers. The television was on but on mute, re-running one of last year’s soccer matches, the English Premier League or something.

“Let’s do it,” Tony whispered, after a couple of minutes.

Damon licked his lips, and this time he didn’t ask Tony if he was sure. Damon saw in those gold-flecked sea green eyes all that he needed to see.

They started with gentle kissing, caressing each other’s bodies like they were discovering them for the first time. Damon moved Tony to his back and climbed on top of him. Tony loved to be kissed like he’d never be kissed again, this much Damon knew. He could tell Tony was a pushy little bottom, or was going to be. And while usually he was perfectly fine with the agent’s need for speed and rabid passion, Damon was in the mood to take it slow tonight, relish it.

Tony fidgeted under him, craning to take more of Damon’s tongue into his mouth but the marine kept holding back just a nudge. He tugged the back of Tony’s hair to hold his head down on the pillow, while with the other hand, he pinched and bothered Tony’s nipples, making him mewl into the kiss helplessly.

“Da-Damon…” Tony rasped, eyes blown wide open as he pushed his chest upwards into Damon’s adept fingers. At the same time he spread his legs and pushed up his groin, seeking contact with Damon’s body for his much ignored but already awakening erection.

“Don’t make me beg, Marine…”

“Shh, what’s the rush? We got all night.”

Tony groaned. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

Damon smiled, leaving a trail of kisses all the way from his forehead to his neck and chest where he stopped to suck the nipples. He moved on just as Tony’s pleas got more urgent, and licked a line of saliva down to the navel. Tony almost let loose a giggle because it tickled. But soon the sensations got erotic and he switched to cursing instead. Before Tony could hit the edge and teeter off it, Damon moved downwards, completely ignored the stiffening shaft and mouthed the pair of balls tightening fast.

“Ungghhh, Damon!! Stop teasing, man…” Tony tugged at the short cropped hair, whatever he could get hold of, and Damon chuckled. “Okay, okay…”

Damon sat back on his haunches. He reached for the lube and pack of condoms on the bedside table, letting Tony know clearly what was about to happen next.

“Turn around, Tonio. It’ll be easier the first time.”

He didn’t have to ask twice. Tony rose elegantly and twisted until he was on his hands and knees. Damon put a hand in the middle of Tony’s back and applied a bit of pressure until Tony got the hint and lowered his upper body onto the bed, leaving just his ass up in the air, ready and willing to be taken.

“Ready?” He asked finally, after getting Tony stretched with his fingers for another few minutes.

Tony could only gasp wordlessly in response, hands fisted into bed-sheets tearing the Egyptian cotton to shreds. Damon rolled on a condom and coated himself generously with lube. Then positioning himself right, he pushed the head into Tony. Tony gasped and twisted to try and look, but of course he couldn’t.

“Just relax, don’t clam up, baby. Relax…”

Damon kept stroking his flanks until Tony visibly settled and he was able to push himself further in. Little by little, he moved until he was completely sheathed and then he went still, letting Tony adjust to the alien sensation inside him. The agent held still too, unsure what to do with himself.

“Okay, Tony?”

Tony nodded, still panting, to show he was alright. Damon pressed a quick kiss onto Tony’s back as he pulled out in one swift move, before plunging right back in. Tony grunted loudly, but kept his back arched perfectly to accept Damon back into himself.

He started slow, yearning to do this for as long as possible, settling into a steady rhythmic pace. Damon held Tony’s hips in both hands effortlessly pushing and pulling the lithe body in tune to his thrusts. In time, Tony started to move too like a total pro. Damon tried to hit Tony’s prostate on every other thrust, making him squeak and curse and moan without inhibition.

He’d fuck Tony all night if he could, but Damon was human after all. His breaths hitched as the sensations compounded, and his famous endurance started to give out. One hand joined Tony’s in pumping the other weeping erection in tune with the erratic thrusts. A final mammoth jerk later, he surrendered and a fantastic climax hit him like a freight train. Damon whited out just as he heard Tony vocalize his own release.

Once Damon regained his wits, he gently slipped out of Tony and cleaned them up before collapsing on the bed beside the other man. Tony stayed on his stomach, his shoulders heaving and his face turned away. His skin glistened with sweat enhancing the golden tinge that Damon so completely obsessed over. But when he didn’t move or speak for a long time, Damon pulled himself up on one elbow, his heart thudding anxiously. “Hey… say something.”

Slowly, Tony turned towards him, looked up into Damon’s eyes, and allowed his face to melt into a lopsided grin. “I see now what all the fuss is about.”

Damon laughed out loud. “Come here, you.”

He cradled Tony in his arms and kissed every inch of his face within reach. The agent was boneless and compliant in his arms, barely moving, just letting his deep, steamy breaths tickle Damon’s neck.

They talked; mostly Tony talked and Damon listened. And two hours later, Damon hoisted his lover’s ankles up on his shoulders and made love to Tony again, this time facing each other. He rutted slowly and leisurely, folding the sinewy form in two, making Tony gasp and quake and whimper little ‘oh’s and ‘ah’s with every thrust.

“Damon? You awake?” Tony whispered, sometime before dawn.

Well, now he was. “Mm-hmm…”

He was too comfortable to move though, wrapped around his partner, his chin resting on top of Tony’s head.

“Wh-what you said… what I-I think you said, back at the hospital?”

Damon squeezed his eyes tight, and held his breath.

“I do too, you know. A-and before you ask, no it did not just occur to me after all the mind-blowing sex, I swear.” Tony chortled nervously. “Cross my heart and kiss my elbow.”

A fervid burn of tears viciously stung his eyelids. Damon didn’t trust himself to attempt words just yet. He buried his nose in Tony’s hair instead, inhaling him in deeply, and shuddered hard under the weight of his exploding emotions. Next thing he knew, Tony was pulling away from him. Before he could worry or outright panic, Tony slid upwards on the bed and calmly pulled Damon to himself, making the marine rest his weary head on the agent’s shoulder instead.

“Sleep, Damon, I’ll watch over you.”

The marine smiled. Such a cheesy yet ridiculously heartwarming thing to say, he mused, even as he suspected he’d heard it somewhere before. Damon closed his eyes and let Tony wrap his arms around him, holding him. Within seconds, he drifted away.


February 24, 2008. Washington DC

Gibbs dipped a paintbrush into a freshly opened can of paint and left it there. Vermillion, Abby had called it, when she dropped in last night with a casserole. Gibbs thought it was supposed to be red.

It was after ten on Sunday night and he was in his basement, putting the final finishing touches on his boat. This was his third one so far, and all it was missing now was a name.

Gibbs lifted his jar of bourbon to his lips, taking in a generous amount and rolling it around his tongue before downing it. Mentally, he pictured the type of calligraphy that would suit this boat the best. Each boat had its own character, one that comprised of all the different people who’d help build it, all the different conversations he’d have around it, all the memories and unvoiced sentiments that would seep into it.

The first boat he’d built had soaked in months of guilt and misery and marital frustrations from her maker. He’d named her Stephanie, after his third and last ex-wife. And he’d taken great pleasure in burning her. Of course, in a way, he was extremely grateful to Stephanie too – the ex-wife not the boat, for encouraging him to pick up his old boat-building hobby again. It had kept him sane through his extremely messy divorce and even better, it kept him from marrying again.

The second boat was tougher: a more complex design, with more intricate detailing on American cedar wood. She received a lot of help from Tony, more than Gibbs had wanted, actually. She was witness to a lot of significant events and celebrations too, like both Tim’s and Kate’s first cases as NCIS field agents, Tony’s first time jumping out of a plane, his first night out of the hospital after he nearly succumbed to that damn plague and finally, Ziva killing her brother Ari to protect Gibbs. That second boat – she was strong, resilient, and perfect. She’d been there for him through a lot of thick and thin, in fact still did. He called her ‘Shannon & Kelly’, and she was parked at the James Creek marina half an hour away.

The third boat, this one, was unique in its own right too. For one, she didn’t get as much attention as she’d deserved from Gibbs, what with him losing the plot and running away to Mexico, leaving her stalled and incomplete for months. Then she got a little too much air time with Abby’s drunkenness and Fornell’s sarcasm, even Ziva had an emotional meltdown in this basement. Poor thing would have bitched and whined if she could. But then Damon Werth came to her rescue, reviving Gibbs’ own interest in finishing her, adding jazzy new features that he’d once thought he was too old-school for.

The cell phone rang, echoing loudly through the basement and breaking Gibbs out of his thoughts. He thought to ignore it but looking at the caller ID, picked it up right away.

“Gibbs! Gibbs! Gibbs! You weren’t sleeping, were you? Did I wake you?”

Gibbs smiled at his favorite girl’s hyper-activeness, even at this hour. “I’m up, Abs.”

“Oh, good! We just got off the video call with Tony. He said to tell you not to be such a worrywart and that he’ll be home tomorrow morning! Yayyy!!!”

Gibbs didn’t react, not that she expected him to. Abby knew him better than that. “He looked good, Gibbs. The shoulder isn’t bothering him anymore. I haven’t seen him so relaxed in a long time.”


There was a second’s pause, before Abby tsked softly.

“Oh, Gibbs. It’s not just the Damon effect, you know, although that does play a phenomenally huge part. But mostly it’s you, Boss-man. Now don’t you go feeling all jealous of Damon! Just his luck to be stuck between the two of you emotional simpletons, he can’t get a break at all! God!!”

“Abby,” Gibbs said warningly, but that’s all he managed or even needed to say. Even after ten years, he continued to be both stunned and impressed by how easily she could see (and hear) through his silences.

“Alright, I’ll hang up now, let you get back to your regularly scheduled boat-building. Just wanted to let you know that Tony’s fine, and he says hi.”

“Get some sleep, Abs,” he said, before disconnecting the call.

Abs was the only one he ever said goodbye to, everyone else he just hung up on abruptly. He remembered how Kate used to hate that about him, and it made him chuckle. He could really be a bastard, with a capital ‘b’. Abby on the other hand – she weaseled her way into his heart and his life, and insisted he change his set old ways to adapt to her. And he had. Tony, on the other hand, he never got over his years of parental neglect to ask Gibbs for anything. Instead he let himself be bullied and ordered around, adapting himself to the ways of the great Leroy Jethro Gibbs. And he’d done it without a word of complaint.

Gibbs sighed, once again resolving to make up for it all somehow. He donned his glasses before picking his paintbrush up. He still felt a deep well of regret for having shut Tony out and losing two whole years in the process. And it felt like he’d just found him, only to have lost him again to that… that… to Damon Werth. All too soon.

“Look at you, all maudlin…”

Gibbs grumbled as he drank from his jar deeply again. “He’s okay. They’re both okay…” he continued talking to himself, reassuring himself that Tony was in safe arms, and will be home soon enough into his, metaphorically speaking of course.

Gibbs had no intention of spoiling the kid with too much attention. Besides, it would only freak Tony out.

He painted the last letter in running script on one side of the hull, and carefully blew at it. Finally he stepped back to admire his artwork with affection.

Anthony Okay, so maybe this boat was a ‘he’.

And ‘he’ may not be completely ready, or willing, to float on his own just yet, but he sure as hell was getting there.

In a way, Gibbs had had seven years to re-build Tony, restore his confidence and his ability to trust in people again. He’d almost wrecked all his good work towards the end, almost. But that’s the thing about good families: they pick up your slack when you’re off gallivanting in Mexico or being a brooding, selfish sonofabitch. Grudgingly, he conceded that family now included Werth too.

Gibbs caressed the one crooked line of unevenly hammered nails and smiled. He knew he had great many reasons to be both grateful and proud, and he was.

He was the proudest father alive.

** THE END **

Do let me know what you think?

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

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