Jethro was about ready to kill someone. Instead of another metal that he could hide away on his drawer, someone had decided to give him a ‘real’ commendation in the form of a PF. A living, breathing monument to the fact that Jethro knew how to get a confession from a terrorist to stop an attack on yet another tanker. He crumpled the paper ‘deed’ to his new property into a tiny ball and snarled wordlessly at Ziva, who happened to be looking his way.

She instantly looked away.

Striding away from his desk, deed clenched tight in his fist, Jethro climbed the stairs that led to Jenny’s office. He didn’t knock and sure as hell didn’t wait for Cynthia to announce him. Jethro pushed the door open and snapped, “Do they even think over there? What in God’s name do I want with a PF and who the hell thought it was a good idea to give me one?”

He noticed, belatedly, a man standing in front of Jenny’s desk. He noticed because the man’s fairly broad shoulders stiffened at his coarse acronym. Pleasure Fuck, or Private Fuck, depending on who was talking, but it stood for the same thing; a pleasure slave trained in the arts of seduction and sexual technique the world over. The best of the best from the gene pool, sold or taken in early childhood, raised to be whatever their owners needed them to be.

Jenny gave him a thin smile and stood, motioning towards the man and introducing, “Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, meet Anthony DiNozzo…your Courtesan.”

Naturally, Jethro thought darkly. And then the man faced him, temporarily stealing away his thoughts. Late twenties, early thirties, it was impossible to tell with his perfect skin and clear, mostly green eyes. Strong facial features and a fit, well-honed body, though not overly built…

Lithe, Jethro decided at last, like someone at home on both the basketball court and the gymnast’s mat. He was more than attractive; no one would kick out of bed for eating crackers. There was something about his eyes…

A wry smile surfaced on DiNozzo’s face as he closed the scant distance between them and held out a hand. “Afternoon, Agent Gibbs. It’s good to meet you.”

Jethro stared suspiciously at the younger man’s open, seemingly unafraid expression and took it. He was also surprised by the firm grip as he shook the hand and commented, “I would say, ‘Same here,’ but that would be lying.”

“So I gathered,” DiNozzo replied, dry. “I have to say that you’re the first person to object to my mere presence before they’ve even met me. After introductions is usually when that happens.”

“Good at your job, huh?” Jethro observed.

DiNozzo flashed him a grin. “All part of my charm.”

Something Jethro had no trouble believing. Forcing his gaze from those captivating eyes, Jethro glared at Jenny and ordered, “Undo it.”

“It’s done.”

“Jenny.”

“Forget it, Jethro. If you scrap him now, he’s disgraced and you know what happens then.”

Jethro had to give the kid credit. DiNozzo didn’t even flinch about being discussed as though he weren’t in the room. He also didn’t bat an eyelash about being rejected to work the low-rent district for the rest of his life. Was he that oblivious, or possibly, just that good at what he did?

DiNozzo himself interrupted with, “If I could make a suggestion, Agent Gibbs? Use me as part of your team, if you have no personal use for me. I’m fully versed in law enforcement regs and it wouldn’t take long for me to get up to speed on NCIS code. I’m trained in the use of many weapons and self-defense techniques.”

Jethro glared at the younger man, looking him over as a potential teammate, someone he would have to trust with his life, with the lives of those already working for him. He was sure that Kate and Ziva would eat him alive, and not just physically, no matter what skills the man thought he had. As for Stan, well, Jethro wasn’t all that sanguine that the other agent wouldn’t try his hand at getting a piece of Tony’s ass if not actively discouraged. Stan went through lovers fast and even though his professional life was on the up and up, Jethro had his doubts about just how ‘nice’ he was in the bedroom.

Folding his arms across his chest, DiNozzo challenged, “Afraid I’ll beat you, old man? Because I will, you know.”

A flash of equal parts amusement, indignation, and arousal flashed through Jethro. “You’re pretty damn mouthy for someone in your situation.”

DiNozzo shrugged and pointed out, “Got nothing to lose, do I?”

Lips pursed, Jethro silently conceded that to be true and ordered, “With me, DiNozzo. We’ll see just what you’ve got to work with.”

The slave wisely showed no sign of triumph at Jethro accepting the gauntlet.

Jenny called after them, “Try not to kill him in the process, Gibbs!”

Jethro made no promises as he headed for the gym, DiNozzo following close behind.

* * * *

Of all the things that Tony had expected in his permanent match, being rejected sight unseen hadn’t been anywhere on the list. When he’d gotten his placement and driven to NCIS, he’d thought there would probably be some old codger ready to retire with, maybe a paunch and follicle-ly challenged. There would be pawing and bland, uninteresting sex where he’d fake orgasms and jerk off in the bathroom for his own needs when he could. He’d been resigned to a dull, ordinary life without even the chance of finding someone to make him happy.

What he’d gotten…Tony’s head still whirled at the fierce, spit and polish man stalking ahead of him, down the main stairs and then towards the elevator. Director Sheppard had been warning him that Agent Gibbs wasn’t likely to take Tony in at first, but not to be afraid of the man, that he was all sound and fury.

Jesus. If that’s all sound and fury, I’d hate to see him well and truly pissed, Tony thought, stepping into the elevator.

He’d talked fast back there, no doubt about it, but not because he was afraid of being disgraced. From the second those pale blue eyes had met his, Tony had known that he would do anything to stay with the man. He’d been, well, indoctrinated to serve the one who would ultimately own him, but he’d believed, prayed really, that it would be someone to love and respect as well. This man fulfilled all his wishes and hopes and Tony had no intention of letting Gibbs throw him away for any reason.

They wound up in a smallish gym with weights to one side, a ring in the center, and various bags and workout areas on the other side. They walked through it into a locker room. Once there, Gibbs looked at him and said, “You’ll have to borrow some gear, hang on, you’re about Stan’s size.”

It was maybe five minutes later that he was dressed in borrowed sweats, his suit folded over the worn, wooden bench. Gibbs was ready too, so they went back into the gym, which wasn’t nearly as deserted as it had been when they’d arrived. There were three women in addition to Director Sheppard and two men standing in a group. Everyone’s attention focused on Tony in seconds and he flushed under their combined scrutiny.

“With me, DiNozzo!”

Turning at the sharp command, Tony immediately followed Gibbs onto the set of mats to the side. They stretched out for a few minutes and Tony let himself sink into the physicality of the whole thing. He’d sparred in a number of different disciplines and could street fight, claw, and pull hair with the best of them. All he had to do was figure out which rules Gibbs played by.

Finally, Gibbs asked, “You good?”

Tony smirked and answered, “Oh, I’m great, Gibbs. You should try me.”

Gibbs’ tongue swiped over his lower lip and a flash of something…hot…glittered in his eyes before it disappeared. “What fighting do you know?”

“Tell you what. You start and I’ll try to keep up,” Tony retorted, throwing his best attitude into the tone.

It was instinct alone that allowed Tony to block the fist that suddenly came at his face. He blocked and jumped back, almost losing his footing in the process. A lightening-fast attack had him on the defensive until he was half-way across the gym, never mind off the mat. He blocked every time, but could barely keep up for real, never mind as he’d joked.

Gibbs backed off and warned, “Pay attention. I’m not going light on you from here on out. We go to five points. Full contact. Off the mat, you lose a point, I gain one. Ready?”

Tony nodded and bowed. Gibbs seemed surprised, but followed his actions and then the fight joined for real. It was a close-quartered fight, the full-body blows and fists landing in his side and gut without warning. He blocked and again followed where Gibbs led, going from style to style, landing a few of his own punches and almost managing to flip the other when Gibbs got a neck hold on him. It felt like it went on forever. Sweat flowed freely, blurring his vision, and his lungs began to burn while Gibbs seemed completely unaffected by the fight.

At last, someone shouted, “Time’s up!” and distracted him for a split second. It was long enough for Gibbs to somehow sweep Tony’s feet out from under him. Instead of hitting the ground forcefully, though, he landed in his Master’s arms, staring up wildly at the other man, his hands clutching insanely strong biceps while he panted, trying desperately to catch his breath.

Gibbs half-smiled as he lowered Tony to the floor and observed, “We need to work on your wind and how easily distracted you are.”

Hopeful, Tony asked, “So…I can stay?”

Giving him an eyeroll, Gibbs retorted, “Well I’m hardly going to throw you into the street, am I? Hit the showers, DiNozzo, I’ll be in shortly.”

Even knowing the other man didn’t mean it the way Tony wanted, he climbed to his feet and gave a brash grin as he quipped, “And you’ll be coming shortly after that.”

Gibbs slapped him upside the back of the head hard enough to sting. “Move it, DiNozzo!”

The other man went to talk to his team and, just when Tony reached the door, Gibbs groaned softly and asked, “Anyone have aspirin?”

For some reason, that made Tony’s grin even bigger and he whistled cheerfully as he entered the locker room.

* * * *

“OhmyGod! Gibbs! He fought you to a draw!” Abby exclaimed, bouncing on the soles of her feet. “Has that ever happened?”

Jethro tried to glare at her, but he was too tired to manage an effective one.

Ziva offered, “I did it once.”

For Ziva, Jethro managed an effective glare.

She swallowed and gave him a weak smile as she amended, “But only just barely. It was hardly that.”

Kate snickered, but wisely didn’t comment.

Jenny, however, had no trouble saying, “You’re all off until Monday. Farrell’s team will be on call. Enjoy the long weekend and thank you for such a swift resolution on the Garry case.”

Everyone started talking at once, but all Jethro did was transfer his glare to Jenny before heading slowly for the showers. Sarah Garry, three star Admiral’s daughter, had been kidnapped by a psycho ex-boyfriend. They hadn’t been able to save her from rape, but Jethro had shot the fucker who’d done it, so hopefully her nightmares wouldn’t linger too long.

Dismissing the case happened all on its own when he caught sight of all that perfect, smooth, golden skin under the hot, steamy shower. Tony showed in stark relief against the utilitarian white tiles and he leaned on them, head ducked so the water sluiced down the natural curve of his spine and over the well-formed, muscled ass.

Fuck, he groaned to himself. It’s been too long since I got laid.

He knew he could fuck Tony then and there, if he wanted. The man was a Courtesan, his Courtesan, and Jethro could do whatever he wanted to the younger man wherever and whenever he wanted.

As if sensing Jethro’s gaze, and maybe he did, Tony turned and looked over his shoulder. A slow, wicked smile surfaced and Tony offered, “To the victor go the spoils?”

Jethro swallowed against a dry throat when the other deliberately spread his legs. “It was a draw.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” Tony told him, grinning and facing him altogether. Walking silently out of the shower area, he dropped gracefully to his knees and looked up at Jethro to say, “Let me serve you, Master, please. It would…make me happy.”

Gazing down at those brilliantly green eyes with their specs of brown and gold, Jethro wondered if he could believe the words. They seemed sincere and yet, how could they be true when the other man was a slave? Cupping Tony’s chin, Jethro asked, “Do you like sex with men? Tell me the truth. Would you go to a bar if you had the choice and pick out a man to have sex with?”

Tony shrugged. “I like who I like, Gibbs. Male or female, it doesn’t matter to me. They don’t just assign us willy-nilly, you know.”

“I don’t know. Tell me.”

Clearly taken aback, Tony explained, “There’s a process. We’re matched based on very, very thorough criteria. I’m bisexual. My bunkmate Charles is straight. My best friend Leah is a bull dyke who could crush my skull with one hand. They put us where we can be the best fit and do the most good. Especially for someone like you.”

“Like me?”

“A hero. Someone special. I would have honored you for that alone, but now…if I saw you in a bar, Gibbs? I would still drop to my knees and beg you to fuck me. Or at least let me suck your cock.”

“Do you want to suck my cock, Tony?”

“God, yes.”

Jethro couldn’t deny the honest lust in the younger man’s eyes. It baffled him, but he could tell that that, at least, wasn’t an act. The words? He didn’t know Tony well enough to say one way or the other; not for sure, anyhow. Not yet.

Deliberate, Jethro shoved his sweats down and his half-hard dick bobbed up, eager for action. He watched as Tony licked his lips before leaning forward and just breathing in at the base of Jethro’s shaft. His hand rested on Tony’s wet hair, curving around the skull, but without pressure. He kept watching as Tony licked a swatch from the base to tip and then back down. Gooseflesh erupted all over at the bold action and he shuddered, hand tightening on the slave’s head.

Tony didn’t tease long, maybe sensing that it wouldn’t take much to make him come. He went down on Jethro enthusiastically, getting into it with long, slow bobs of his head up and down, but not making those fake noises that some people did, thinking it turned on their partner. It seemed an honest enjoyment, the other man’s hands gripping Jethro’s thighs as he sucked on the dick, drawing Jethro ever closer to orgasm. When he went all the way down, throat tight and wet around the shaft and lips down to the base, the sight and sensation drove Jethro over the edge. He came hard enough that he thrust when there was nowhere to go, his mind just gone as his seed spilled down Tony’s throat.

Panting harshly, Jethro pulled out of the incredible haven of his new slave’s throat and mouth. He wondered, vaguely, just how long Tony could hold his breath as he didn’t seem nearly as oxygen deprived as he should’ve been. Dismissing the thought as unimportant, Jethro glanced down and discovered a splattering of come on the floor between his feet.

He came just from blowing me, Jethro thought, dazed and totally turned on again.

Or maybe it was from something more, something deeper, like being used for someone else’s pleasure. Had someone known to match his kinks, too? If so, who and how? There weren’t many people who knew him that well. Relegating that line of inquiry to the back of his mind for later, Jethro ordered softly, “Stand up.”

Tony immediately stood, though he swayed a bit.

Jethro put a hand on the back of his slave’s neck and drew him in close for a slow, hungry kiss. When he pulled back, he took in Tony’s flushed, hopeful expression and half-smiled. “Get in the shower. I need someone to wash my back.”

Tony grinned outright at that and walked confidently to the shower that was still going.

Shaking his head, sensing that he had his hands full, Jethro followed.

* * * *

Introductions were interesting, to say the least. Tony stood beside Gibbs, body still thrumming from both matches with the other man, about ready to vibrate out of his skin. He wasn’t nearly in the right frame of mind for anything except more of what he’d just gotten in the locker room, and then some, but he knew it would take some planning on his part to get it.

“Special Agent Stan Burley,” Gibbs said. “He’s in charge when I’m not around.”

Looking over the fairly big man, Tony noted the light brown hair, blue eyes, and tight-lipped countenance with the feeling that he didn’t want to be alone with him. Not until Gibbs had properly staked a claim, anyhow. The nearly crushing handshake confirmed his suspicions.

“Special Agent Caitlyn Todd, formerly of the Secret Service.”

Shorter than Tony with a grin and friendly, dark eyes, Caitlyn shook his hand and corrected, “It’s Kate. Good to meet you.”

“Same here,” Tony replied, smiling back.

Gibbs pointed to a shortish, dark-haired beauty and introduced, “Officer Ziva David, on loan from Mossad.”

Tony’s eyebrows climbed as he shook her hand. “That sounds like a story waiting to be told.”

She smiled at him and said, “Maybe another time.”

The baby-faced, blondish guy was next, younger than Tony could ever remember being.

“That’s McGee,” Gibbs told him.

Kate spoke up, “AKA Probie or Newbie.”

McGee pointed out, “I’m not the newbie anymore, Tony is!”

Gibbs slapped him upside the head. “Is DiNozzo an agent?”

“No,” McGee sighed.

Turning to a tall, slender girl with black hair and a spiked dog collar around her neck, Gibbs continued, “And this is Abby Sciuto, our lab tech.”

Abby threw her arms around Tony and hugged him briefly before bouncing back and exclaiming, “This is so awesome! Bossman totally needs someone to make him less grumpy! You’re like, perfect!”

Tony grinned, her enthusiasm infectious, and said, “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Abby,” Gibbs growled.

But even Tony could see the fondness with which he looked at the Goth girl, the growl rendered useless by his obvious affection.

Gibbs put a hand on Tony’s shoulder and said to the group, “You heard the Director. Finish your reports and don’t come back until Monday.”

They scattered like leaves before a strong wind, which caused Tony to grin. Everyone was the same when it came to getting unexpected time off, it seemed.

Leaning a bit closer, Gibbs told him, “And as for you, plant yourself in the chair at my desk and don’t move. I’ll be back.”

Tony shivered at the warm breath on the side of his neck and nodded. Once Gibbs released him, he made a beeline for the chair indicated and sat. It was, at least, facing the group and he got to observe them as Gibbs went back upstairs. Why he wanted to talk to Director Sheppard, Tony didn’t think he wanted to know. He was almost positive that he didn’t have to worry about getting sent back, and subsequently sent down, but the sliver of uncertainty undercut his former excitement.

Forcing his thoughts away from that upsetting path, he looked at his new team. Abby had promptly vanished, probably back down to her lab wherever it might be, but the rest were still there. Burley’s desk stood beside Gibbs,’ while Ziva was on the other side of him, Kate and McGee facing them. It was an open floor plan without the cubicles that he’d half-expected of government agency.

There wasn’t any chatter as the others worked on their paperwork, so Tony didn’t have much to do with himself. The computer was locked, but the desk wasn’t so he started tidying up the papers on the top of it. He’d arrived at the end of a case, which meant everything there probably had to do with that one case. Going slowly through the papers, he discovered that to be the case and started organizing. A lot of it was handwritten in a barely legible scrawl, Gibbs’ writing most likely, and he wondered if someone could unlock the computer so he could type it up.

Looking over at Kate, he asked, “Hey Kate?”

She glanced over at him. “Yeah?”

“Any way I can type these up for him?” Tony questioned.

Kate shook her head and said, “No one knows his password. And don’t worry about it. McGee gets that job, anyhow.”

“Gee, thanks Kate,” McGee griped from his desk.

Gibbs appeared as if by magic behind the youngest agent and asked, “Got a problem typing things up for me, McGee?”

McGee jumped, stammering, “N-no! Of course not, Boss!”

“Good. Tony, give that to McGee. We’re leaving,” Gibbs ordered.

Gathering the files he’d put together, Tony walked over to McGee and put them on his desk. Gibbs put a hand on Tony’s back and nudged him towards the elevator. Tony walked, the two falling into step fairly easily together, and the elevator doors opened in short order. Gibbs didn’t seem to feel the need to fill the silence, so Tony remained quiet as well.

They ended at a bland, four-door sedan and Tony walked around to the passenger’s side, opening the door when the locks clicked open. The ride was just as silent and he wondered if maybe Gibbs was trying to see how long it would take him to start talking. A test to see just how Tony reacted under what should’ve been stressful circumstances; new master, new team, new life, no idea what or how things would go in the future, or even what kind of man Gibbs really was.

So it might seem to someone on the other end, but Tony was an excellent judge of people. It was, after all, his life’s work. He’d sized up Gibbs in those first thirty seconds in Director Sheppard’s office and found himself eager to find out more. There was a lot more to Gibbs than met the eye, of that Tony was certain, but he was in no way afraid of how he would be treated. The man’s actions in the locker room alone guaranteed that.

They arrived at a single-story home in the suburbs, which somehow surprised Tony. He would’ve expected Gibbs not to want to bother with a home, given how he could be called off at a moment’s notice and be gone for who knew how long. It also surprised him when Gibbs simply opened the front door, indicating it hadn’t been locked.

Then again, he thought with a grin. Any burglar who walks in on Gibbs is likely to get his ass kicked.

Inside was clean and comfortable, natural for someone who’d been in the military his whole life. There wasn’t a single, ostentatious thing about the place as Gibbs showed him around. When they hit the bedroom, Tony asked, “Am I sleeping here?”

It was the first thing either had said since NCIS and Gibbs looked at him a moment before grunting noncommittally and heading towards the kitchen with, “We’ll need to go food shopping, I haven’t been for a while.”

Tony nodded, ignoring the tiny spike in his body when his question wasn’t denied out of hand.

The basement was a trip and a half, with the partially built, wooden boat on its frame. Blinking at it, he looked at Gibbs and questioned, “How’re you getting it out?”

“Who says I am?” Gibbs countered mildly, starting back upstairs.

With a last look around the workshop, Tony shook his head and followed.

Once upstairs, Gibbs motioned towards the sofa, taking the solitary chair for himself. Tony sat and waited, doing his best not to give in to the urge to cross his arms and legs defensively. There was something distinctly disconcerting about the pale gaze leveled on him, as though Gibbs saw right through him, through the calm façade to the insecure man kept under lock and key.

“We should get a few things straight right off the bat,” Gibbs began, leaning back in the chair. “I didn’t ask for you and I don’t want you here, regardless of what happened in the locker room. That was…a momentary weakness that won’t be repeated.”

Tony’s heart started beating faster, sensing a rejection that would land him on his back for the rest of his life.

“That said, I know what happens to rejected Courtesans and I wouldn’t put anyone through that, so I’m keeping you.”

Tony slowly let out the breath he’d been holding.

Shaking his head, looking genuinely annoyed, Gibbs finished, “You’ll stay in the guest room. Feel free to do whatever you want to it. You’ll pick up after yourself, feed yourself, do whatever you want as long as it doesn’t interfere with whatever I’m doing. You’ll work with me at NCIS and I’ll see about getting you a weapon if you pass certification. I’ll set you up an account and it’ll be your responsibility to stay within your means. Any questions?”

“Not a question as such, no,” Tony said slowly. “But…is that all you want? A roommate you have to support? I can do more, be more than that for you. I’m not talking about sex if that makes you uncomfortable. I could be a friend to you, Gibbs, someone to talk to since you don’t to anyone that I can see. Everyone needs someone to listen.”

“You’ve known me for five minutes and you think I don’t have anyone to talk to?” Gibbs demanded.

Tony shrugged and pointed out, “You care for your team, but hold them at arms’ length from what I saw, except for maybe Abby. I’m yours, Gibbs, no matter what. I’m here until you decide to get rid of me. Why not get some benefit from the situation? This, you, are everything I could ever have wanted, certainly more than I’d expected at my age, and that’s not bullshit. I’m not trying to snow you when I say that I want to be there for you in all capacities.”

Gibbs frowned at him for a long moment and then stood abruptly. “You have any personal effects we need to pick up from somewhere?”

“Nope. It’s just me,” Tony replied, letting the subject go.

You could only lead a horse to water, and Tony suspected Gibbs seemed more of an ass than most.

* * * *

Jethro was surprised to find that Tony had absolutely no personal possessions. Surprised and disturbed, though he showed none of it to the Courtesan. He’d never thought about what that kind of life would be like; it existed, but had nothing to do with him. Or it hadn’t, until some well-meaning idiot had decided to make it his business in a far-too-intimate fashion.

Deciding that it would be better to get clothes shopping out of the way first, he stood and said, “Let’s get you something to wear other than that suit.”

Tony followed him readily enough and they were back in the car three minutes later, driving towards the Georgetown Mall. There were closer ones, but Jethro figured somewhere with a lot of choices would be best. Not to mention that there would be plenty of restaurants to choose from for dinner after.

It was easy to see the younger man holding back as they walked through the men’s department. Tony’s gaze scanned the more expensive clothes, but he walked towards a far more modest selection. Amused, Jethro told him, “You can get what you want, Tony. I’m not made of money, but I have plenty saved. A shopping spree won’t put me in the poorhouse.”

Tony’s ears turned pink, but he only turned back to the clothes he’d originally looked at without comment.

Thankfully, Tony wasn’t one to linger. Jethro had little patience for shopping at the best of times. Maybe the Courtesan sensed that about him, because within an hour, Tony had picked out five slacks, seven dress shirts, a couple of sweaters, two suit coats, a few t-shirts, underwear, socks, and even a few pairs of shoes and sneakers. He looked to Jethro before putting anything in the shopping cart, but Jethro just nodded each time in approval. Even as unfashionable as he was, Jethro recognized how good the clothes would look on Tony.

The amount when they got to the register was enough to make Jethro grimace, but he held up a hand when Tony started to pull things out of the bag. He merely handed over the seldom used credit card and thought, Someone’s going to call and make sure it didn’t get stolen after this.

Dinner was strangely comfortable as they sat in one of the chain restaurants and lingered over massive portions and alcohol. Jethro only had one bourbon since he was driving and was pleasantly surprised when Tony stuck to two pilsners over the course of the night. It amazed him, how much food the younger man put away, but he only grinned when those eyes turned somewhat pleading as the waitress asked if they wanted dessert. Jethro nodded and Tony ordered some huge chocolate thing that made his teeth hurt just to look at.

He made a note to stop at the drugstore for toothbrushes and toothpaste.

They did stop and as he paid for the bathroom necessities, he noticed others looking at Tony with admiration and obvious respect. There was obviously something about him they recognized as Courtesan, but damned if he could pick it out. Tony, for his part, handled the attention with aplomb and a nod of silent thanks when a man moved out of his way while looking at deodorant.

In the car, Jethro had to ask, “What happened back there? How did they know about you?”

Tony turned his head and pushed the top of his ear forward so that the inside light caught on an earring at the top. It was small and simple, made of gold, and a symbol he didn’t recognize, but reminded him of a Japanese or Chinese character.

“What does it mean?” Jethro questioned, curious.

Sitting back to put on his seatbelt, Tony answered, “That I’m a permanently matched Courtesan. There’s different symbols for each level we attain, or to which we descend, depending.”

Jethro’s instinctive reaction was to demand it be removed, not wanting someone else’s mark on Tony. Then he realized that it was a status symbol for the young man and bit back the order to do so. It was part of their society and if it made Tony happy, then who was he to take it away? Not to mention, he had no idea if there were any penalties involved for Tony if he did take it out. He knew far too little about all of this and knew that he’d be calling Ducky for a history lesson the next day. Knowledge was paramount; the lack of it, dangerous.

Putting on his own seatbelt, Jethro headed for home and contemplated having another drink or three once he got there.

* * * *

It was something of a surprise to Tony when he actually did wind up in a guest bedroom. He was disappointed, definitely, but had no reason to protest. And it wasn’t as though a solid night’s sleep would go wrong, either. He hadn’t been able to sleep at all the night before, despite his attempts to meditate. It had only been the previous afternoon that he’d been informed of his permanent matching, given his new status earring, and then returned to his room to wait.

So he stretched out on his new, hopefully temporary, bed and turned off the light on the bedside table. Tony understood that Gibbs was coming from a position of hurt, that something in his past kept him from forming strong emotional attachments on an intimate level. He had no idea what that something was, but figured he had plenty of time to find out.

Closing his eyes, he thought about what the next day might hold. There would be no work to distract Gibbs from him. They would be stay in close quarters all day, unless the other man left or sent him away for some reason. That alone should be able to give him clues and insights into the other’s personality and history. Not that he would pry. That would get him a stony silence, Tony was sure. No, he would simply talk about things in an associative fashion and see what came up.

Tony sighed an hour later, no closer to being able to sleep despite how exhausted he was. It felt like a switch had been turned on inside him and he wouldn’t be able to relax until he lay ensconced in his new Master’s arms. Wondering if maybe a drink would help, he climbed out of bed and padded quietly to the kitchen. He looking in the fridge and found some milk, pulling it out and rummaging through the cabinets.

It was a very comfortable house, he had to admit. Almost as though it had been decorated with a family in mind at one point in time. He wondered if the man wanted children, even though he didn’t yet have any. From his interactions with Abby, Tony suspected that Gibbs was very good with children.

“Can’t sleep?”

Jumping in fright at the unexpected appearance, Tony nearly spilled his glass. Offering a sheepish smile, he replied, “Wish I could, I’m really wiped. Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I’m a light sleeper,” Gibbs replied, the dim light from the hall light illuminating a kind expression. “Come on. You can sleep with me, if that’ll help.”

Tony downed the rest of his milk and quickly rinsed out the glass, leaving it in the strainer to follow Gibbs into the master bedroom. It was also comfortable, although slightly more masculine than the rest of the house. He climbed onto the king sized bed, slipping under the covers and lying on his side as Gibbs got comfortable.

A few minutes later, Gibbs sighed and held out a hand. Tony smiled into the darkness and moved so that he lay flush against the other man. Resting his cheek on Gibbs’ chest, he murmured, “Thanks.”

Gibbs huffed and told him sternly, “No monkey business in the morning. This is just so you can get some sleep.”

Tony wrapped an arm over Gibb’s chest and sighed deeply, relaxing for the first time in forty-eight hours. His Master’s breathing stayed slow and even, his warmth soothing and his scent enfolding Tony into comfort in a way no one else ever had.

He was asleep in minutes.