Chained from the ceiling, Tony cried out, “Thirteen!” a split second after the whip bit into his back. The flesh instantly raised into a long, red welt, joining the other twelve already in place. His hands clenched spasmodically around the chains as sweat stung its way down his back, crossing over the evenly spaced lines. Fourteen and fifteen followed in exactly the same manner and when it was over, he hung in his chains, panting and crying from the pain, but high on endorphins as well.

Gil chuckled wickedly from behind, which was the only warning he got before a dildo slowly pushed inside him. His legs spread further, giving his new Master more room. Not that more room was needed, since the silicon cock was so slick with lube that it slid right into him. It was ridged to function as both plug and dildo and his Master pushed it all the way inside, what felt like a foot, even though it was probably only seven or eight inches; it was wide, which was what made it so different.

“You look so good like that, split open and wearing my marks so prettily,” Gil praised. “What’s the biggest you’ve ever taken, slave?”

Even directly addressed, it took a few seconds to collect both thought and breath to answer, “T-ten by three, Master.”

“Hmm. We’re going to go a lot bigger than that, by the time I’m done with you.”

Tony moaned at the promise, but didn’t beg to come, knowing that it was useless. They’d been at it for a few hours now, ever since he’d woken before dawn to the feel of his Master pushing into him without any prep save the leftover, sticky lube from the night before, and a thin new coating on Gil’s shaft.

“But first, I think your ass has gotten a little too pale.”

It was his Master’s bare hand this time, not the paddle, and he cried out at the hard, stinging slaps that continuously jostled the fake cock inside him. His prostate was nudged over and over, sending slices of pleasure through the ripples of pain and he knew that he wasn’t going to last much longer. Every one of his buttons was being pushed, except for exhibitionism, and he’d been hard for longer than he could remember. He ached with the need to come, the tenuous thread of control fraying faster, the longer the spanking went on.

“Master!” was torn from his throat in a long scream as he came, jerking violently in his bonds until he was completely spent.

“You’re going to regret that,” his Master vowed darkly. “But first, on your knees and lick it up. I want that rug clean.”

Tony sagged into Gil’s arms when the cuffs were swiftly released, and he was held up for a long, devastating kiss. He literally slid to the floor when the grip loosened, collapsing in a heap to catch his breath.

A foot rested on his back, causing Tony to cry out in pain as his whip-marks were stepped on, even though the pressure was light.

“Now, slave.”

Shuddering at the steel in his Master’s voice, Tony shook himself so that he could actually focus on the streams of come that almost blended with the carpet. He didn’t even think about the dust or miscellaneous hairs that he and Gil might have shed over the last forty-eight hours. Tony simply picked the closest strip of come and started licking it clean, just as his Master wanted. 

Every time he moved, the dildo shifted inside him, prompting a flash of need and causing his cock to sluggishly respond. It wasn’t nearly canceled out by the foot that moved over his back, toes tracing along the thin stripes of hot, throbbing pain that felt so damn good. All of it was more than Tony had ever, ever prayed for and he would crawl anywhere, so long as he could be with Gil.

“That’s my good boy. So eager to please. You’re everything I could possibly want.”

The words weren’t whispered or soft, but in a regular tone. There was nothing furtive or hesitant about them, either, and Tony soaked up the praise like a dried out sponge.

Then he looked for more spunk to clean up.

*  *  *  *

Gritting his teeth, Jethro snapped, “You can’t keep me from seeing him!”

“I can, and I will, especially if you continue to behave in this fashion,” Lady Heather replied coolly. “Mr. DiNozzo is here of his own free will and specifically instructed me to make sure he was not disturbed. As did his companion.”

Jethro took a breath to try and calm down, seeing that this woman would in no way be bullied by the usual tactics. Looking around the tastefully decorated office, he observed, “I doubt the cops would appreciate knowing what’s going on in here.”

That actually amused her to the point of provoking a soft chuckle. “Really, Agent Gibbs, do you think that I’ve never been raided? Aside from which, you don’t want Anthony to get into trouble with the law any more than I do.”

Giving in, something he was definitely not used to doing, Jethro finally just appealed, “I’m worried about him. If I can’t see him right now, can you set up a time for us to meet?”

She gave him an intent look before saying, “I may be able to arrange that, but that depends.”

“On?”

“None of your business. I suggest that you leave me a number where you can be reached and I will call you to let you know.”

Jethro shook his head. “Find out now. I’ll wait here like a good little boy while you check. If DiNozzo doesn’t want to see me, then I’ll just camp out at his hotel until it’s time for him to leave.”

“I believe you would,” she mused.

“Good.”

Arching a disdainful eyebrow at him, indicating that she hadn’t been complimenting him, Lady Heather rose gracefully to her feet and swept from the office. The door didn’t lock behind her, but Jethro caught a glimpse of two large men who looked like they knew how to subdue someone. Grimacing, he settled in to wait, trying to ignore the cries of pain and pleasure that leaked into the room despite the door being shut.

Christ, Tony, what the hell are you doing? he wondered wearily, rubbing at his eyes. Do you even know anymore?

The answer, unfortunately, would have to wait.

*  *  *  *

At the soft, insistent knock on their door, Gil’s hand went still where it was buried in Tony’s ass. Just three fingers, but the other man was trembling from the exertion of being bent over on his hands and toes. Gil had been stretching Tony out by going through inventive variations on yoga poses, not wanting to overdo the young man’s body while they were exploring his limits. So far, they hadn’t truly hit any, which gave Gil a sense of anticipation and a thrill that he hadn’t felt in years.

Growling in fury at the second interruption in as many days, Gil withdrew his fingers and absently wiped them on Tony’s back. Looking down at the shaking body, he finally relented and ordered shortly, “Rest and then don’t move a muscle.”

Tony gracefully went down on his knees, pressing his face to the carpet and resting his arms above his head with a deep sigh and a squirm.

Gil grinned at the squirm and assured him, “We’re not even close to being done, Anthony, so don’t get comfortable.”

“No, Master,” Tony replied, his tone relaxed and buzzed, all at one.

Knowing how content and happy Tony was at being put through his paces, Gil slapped him sharply on his ass before striding to the door. The anger returned and it took a great deal to rein it back so that he presented a calm façade to Lady Heather on opening the door.

An apologetic look was firmly in place as she explained, “He’s here, Gil, I’m sorry. He either wants to see Tony this afternoon or he’s going to camp out at the poor boy’s hotel until it’s time for him to leave.”

“What is wrong with this man?” Gil demanded, even though he thought he knew. “There’s no way that Tony can see him while he’s in this space, but I can meet with him.”

“Gil, perhaps it would be best for Gibbs to see Tony like this,” Heather suggested.

Gil frowned. “Tony has to work with this man, Heather. I can’t expose him to that level of vulnerability, especially to one with so much power over his career.”

There was only a brief hesitation before she asked bluntly, “Are you going to let him go back to DC long enough for it to matter?”

“Probably not,” Gil admitted after a longer pause to consider her words. Showing Tony to Gibbs the way he was would either get him fired or get Gibbs off their backs for good, probably both. And yet, this was a man whose respect Tony seemed to need. “But I still won’t do that to Tony.”

She smiled, gently caressing his cheek. “Which is why I knew that he’d be safe with you.”

“You are a temptation,” he scolded.

“I’ll invite the man to meet you for dinner if you think you can bring Tony up in the next two hours?”

Gil chanced a look back and saw that Tony had literally not moved a muscle. Lips pursed, he countered, “Better make it three.”

She nodded and headed back down the hall towards the stairs.

Closing the door, Gil walked back to Tony and ordered, “Up and into the shower.”

It took a few seconds for the other man to get his balance, but he walked to the bathroom under his own power and knelt gracefully beside the tub.

Moving up beside him, Gil turned on the water and adjusted it to the temperature he liked then ordered, “Feel it and remember it. This is how I like my showers. Baths will be hotter.”

“Yes, Master,” Tony agreed, obediently moving his hand beneath the spout to feel the water for a few seconds.

“Get the shower started and step in,” Gil ordered, beginning to undress.

Gil suspected that Tony would remain in law enforcement, when he decided to move down to Las Vegas and that meant they needed to condition him to something that would bring him up at a steady, but faster pace than they currently had. They wouldn’t always have access to a shower, or at least not the time to use one, but Gil would start with that simply because it was relaxing. It was also somewhere they could be where he could take care of Tony without overly upsetting the slave.

Picking up the washcloth and rubbing the soap into it, he ordered, “Duck under the spray, get good and wet, Anthony.”

Tony did as ordered and looked at him when done, the trust and desire and need in his hazel eyes enough to take Gil’s breath away. Unable to resist, he pulled the other man in for a strong, deep kiss, plunging his tongue into Tony’s mouth and mapping out its recesses. When he was done, Tony moaned softly and silently begged for more by leaning in towards him, despite the hand on his chest that momentarily held him back. Smiling, Gil relented and commanded softly, “Come close, my slave.”

“Yes, Master,” Tony murmured happily, stepping just into Gil’s arms.

Gil wrapped one arm around Tony’s waist, holding him as the other ran the washcloth slowly up and down the long, lean back. He stated firmly, “You belong to me.”

Tony breathed, “Yes, Master.”

“Your body is mine.”

“Yes, Master.”

“I own you and care for you.”

“Yes, Master.”

“You obey me, no matter what.”

“Yes, Master.”

Gil smiled at the way Tony leaned into his caress every time he answered with the same two words. “I’m going to set a ritual now, Anthony, do you understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Good. This ritual may have variations in the future, but when I want you to come up to only a very light subspace, I’m going to stroke your back like this.”

Tony whimpered in disappointment at that, but replied, “Yes, Master.”

“I won’t always explain myself, but because you’ve been so good today, I’ll do so this time,” Gil told him, continuing to rub his lover’s back. Pulling him closer so that their cocks played and touched, Gil continued, “You’re safe with me, Anthony. I know when you have to come up and now is one of those times. I won’t ever let you face the world before you’re ready. Do you speak Italian?”

There was a startled pause before Tony answered, “Yes, Master.”

“Any other languages?”

“French, Spanish, German, and Portuguese.”

“Good. Each time I want you to come up from somewhere deep, like you are now, I want you to count to twenty-five in every language that you speak. Go slow and steady, coming up a little more with each language. When you end, it will be in English and once you’ve finished, I want you to only lightly be in subspace.”

Tony sighed, but answered, “Yes, Master.”

“Begin.”

“Uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco, seis...”

Gil continued to stroke Tony’s back as the young man counted.

Tony was curled up around him with his face pressed to Gil’s throat by the time he reached, “...twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five.”

For a few minutes, Gil didn’t say anything; he simply held Tony without the stroking, knowing how much comfort the other needed to regain his balance. Tony’s words, when he spoke, weren’t all that surprising.

“He’s here, isn’t he?”

Gil nodded and kissed his lover’s temple. “He is. We’re going to meet him for dinner in a couple of hours, so there’s time to get you back to your normal headspace.”

“I don’t want to,” Tony answered sullenly. “He can fuck off and fly back to DC.”

Slapping Tony sharply on his tender ass provoked a gasp of pain and a surprised look. Stern, Gil informed him, “I won’t accept foul language. You can express your anger and discontent all you want without resorting to swearing. Understood?”

Tony nodded, looking down. “Sorry, Master.”

“That’s all right. I know you’re upset, so I won’t add on too many strokes for the vulgarity,” Gil said, flashing Tony a wicked grin when the other man looked up at his words.

Tony responded to the humor, as Gil had hoped, and replied, “Well what does a body have to do to get whipped around here?”

“Oh you did it, Anthony, when you came without permission,” Gil reminded. “And we’ll address that lack of control thoroughly when we get back from dinner.”

Flushing with pleasure, a distinct combination of nervousness and anticipation evident on his face, Tony said, “Thank you, Master.”

Gil kissed him deeply before telling him, “Time to get cleaned up. Then I want to put some salve on your back and bottom.”

Tony instantly protested, “But I want to...”

“Do you really want sit across from Gibbs with your ass sore and your back throbbing?” Gil interrupted bluntly. “Or will it put you at a disadvantage?”

Biting his lip, Tony agreed, “Disadvantage.”

“All right then. Trust me, Tony, I know what to do. I’ve handled more than one pissed off ex in my time.”

Gil’s dry tone caught Tony’s attention and he questioned, “What happened?”

“Let’s just say that Catherine’s ex-husband got a little too rough for my taste, so I got a little rough with him in return.”

Gil was sure that the young man believed he could get rough when those he cared for were threatened; especially when Tony started to relax.

*  *  *  *

Jethro waited at the restaurant where he’d been told to wait, but he did it with ill-concealed grace. He scowled at anyone who looked at him for too long, or at all, and did his best to look as menacing as possible without actually saying anything. It got him left alone, so he was happy doing it. Then his phone rang and he grimaced on seeing Abby’s number in the Caller ID. Sighing, he flipped it open and greeted, “What is it, Abby?”

“Don’t you get all grouchy with me! I told you that Tony was fine!” she exclaimed angrily. “Why couldn’t you just let it go? You’re totally fucking with his head, Gibbs, and not in a good way, either!”

The fact that Abby thought that there were good mind-fucks told him just how far apart they were on this particular issue. “Listen, Abby, this isn’t any of your business.”

“No, you listen to me,” Abby snapped coldly. “You are seriously fucking with things you don’t understand. And if you have any respect or caring for Tony at all, you will leave without ever seeing him and then never mention when he comes back just how much of an asshole you were to go down there in the first place.”

It was one of two times he’d ever heard her well and truly off her nut with fury. He was about to agree to her terms when he saw Tony get out of a car, assisted by another man, and walking towards the restaurant. Unless Jethro wanted to duck through the kitchen and out the back like he was on the run, and he wasn’t all the sure that wouldn’t prompt the manager to call the cops on him, there was no way he could get out of this now.

“Too late.”

“He’s there?”

“Yeah. With...some guy,” Jethro confirmed.

“His Master, Gibbs. Say it.”

Gritting his teeth, Jethro hissed, “I will not!”

“He’s going to be very fragile right now, coming in and out of subspace like a yo-yo. Even if this guy’s a complete Master in all senses of the word, Tony’s going to need you to go easy on him. And I mean everyone else’s definition of the word, Gibbs, not yours. If you want to get out of this with Tony’s ego intact, you’ll handle him with kid gloves.”

“Like his ego needs any handling?”

“Gibbs!”

“All right, I’m sorry!” Jethro exclaimed quietly. He noted how close to the stranger Tony stood and frowned. When Tony blanched on seeing him, he schooled his features to show at least a neutrality and said, “Gotta go, Abs.”

“Don’t fuck him on this, Gibbs. If you’re not going to take him as a Master, let someone else who will.”

Jethro hung up before he heard more words he didn’t want to hear and stepped forward to meet them.

“Ah, Mr. Grissom!” the maitre’ d gushed upon the stranger’s arrival. “It’s excellent to see you after so long. Are you still waiting for your third party to arrive?”

“No, I can see that he’s already here,” the man named Grissom stated, following Tony’s line of sight to look straight at Jethro.

The maitre’ d actually grimaced on seeing who was at the receiving end of that look. “Very well, Sirs. This way.”

Jethro restrained the strong urge to slap the man upside the back of the head and followed them down the main aisle of the nice restaurant. Sitting across from them, he had to admit, however reluctantly, that Tony looked a hell of a lot better than when he’d left. He was tense, sure, but the stress that had been weighing him down like a cement shoe was lessened to a strong degree. As Grissom ordered drinks for himself and Tony, both non-alcoholic, Jethro took a moment to look his...rival...over.

Polished and refined in a way that Jethro knew he’d never be. Handsome in a traditional sort of way, with a beard and sharp, sharp blue-gray eyes that missed nothing. Not even the way Jethro was giving him the once over. He was thicker in the middle than Jethro would have assumed Tony to go for, as well as older, but the air of authority was unmistakable. Distinguished, was the word that really came to mind.

“And you, Sir?” the waiter asked Jethro hesitantly.

“He’ll have coffee,” Tony answered unexpectedly. “As hot and strong as you can make it. When it’s ready to eat through the pot, it’ll be ready.”

Meeting Tony’s gaze, Jethro was relieved to find a spark of humor among the tension there. Smiling, he confirmed, “With a splash of Irish cream.”

“So... come here often, Boss?” Tony asked, flashing a wry grin.

Jethro sighed and said, “Look, Tony, I’m sorry. I wasn’t really thinking about what, ah, you needed when I flew down here. All I could think of was that you were beating yourself up over Kate and wanted the outside to match the inside. I didn’t want you to get hurt like that.”

Pure astonishment lit through Tony at that, and he shifted closer to Grissom, clearly unable to think of a response.

Grissom took one of Tony’s hands and said, “Thank you for the apology, Agent Gibbs.”

The tone wasn’t very forgiving, but then, Jethro figured that he’d pissed all over the man’s territory, so it was allowed.

“Boss...Gibbs...this is hard for me, but...I’m not coming back,” Tony slowly got out. “I mean, I’ll be back to get my stuff, but I’m done at NCIS.”

“Anthony, I told you to wait and think it over more,” Grissom admonished gently.

Shaking his head, Tony smiled at Grissom and said softly, “I don’t need to.”

Jethro felt both betrayed and like a heel. He’d done this. He’d chased Tony out of a job that he was born to be in. “Tony, I understand if you think I’m a bastard, hell, I never made any bones about that, but don’t quit because of me. I don’t care what you do, once you’re off the clock as long as it doesn’t get you hurt.”

“I’m not quitting because of you, Gibbs, I promise,” Tony assured him earnestly. He brought Grissom’s hand up and kissed the palm. “I’m quitting because I’ve found the one I’m supposed to be with, finally.”

Jethro saw that nothing he could say would break through that, even if it was the newlywed phase of overblown emotions and hormones. For once, he gave in gracefully and said, “All right. If you change your mind, the door is always open, Tony.”

For which, Tony shot him a warm, grateful look. “Thanks, Boss, that means a lot to me.”

Even though it felt like his heart was being ripped out, Jethro managed to nod and got to his feet. “I’m going to head out. You two enjoy your dinner and the rest of your leave, DiNozzo. I’ll expect you back for paperwork next Tuesday, all right?”

“We’ll be there,” Grissom told him, standing as well.

Accepting the hand that was held out to him, Jethro warned, “Take good care of him or I’ll hunt you down.”

The firm grip and steady eye-contact told Jethro all he needed to know. He left them with regret, but knew that it was the right decision for Tony. Glancing back when he reached the small foyer, Jethro saw them sitting too close to be decent for public consumption. Tony’s head rested on Grissom’s shoulder and there was a dreamy look on his face as the other man murmured something into his ear.

Just because it was the right thing to do, didn’t mean it was any easier to let go.