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SHAMELESS
Author: Sarah B. Leonard
Fandom: NCIS
Characters: Gibbs, DiNozzo, McGee, David, Palmer, Dr. Mallard, Holly Snow, Donato, Shannon ...and miscellaneous characters as needed
Universe:
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xanthelj 's BDSM Verse. Oh there's a surprise. (Not.) Here I am in my favorite universe, mildly modified. But it's all because of the lovely xanthelj . If you are not familiar with her original premise, see this link: http://www.xanthe.org/site/Pages/bdsmuniverse.html and read her epics. Now. Don't waste your time here!Rating: Another surprise. This is me, guys. Adult, explicit and there be '/' here. Any questions?
Warnings: male/male sex; BDSM; consensual naughtiness between adults; if you don't want to read that, click that mouse away!
Disclaimer: These characters belong to DPB, CBS, Paramount, et al. No copyright infringement is intended.
Authors Notes: My radio sang this song at me one day (Shameless, garth brooks version) and this big ol' plot jack rabbit hopped into my truck and wagged his ears at me. Then I stumbled across several more prompts (sub!gibbs, Gibbs uses a toy on himself, Gibbs has a toy used on him, and various others. Yup, they will show up. Promise.) Finally, it's done.
Thanks: To
silvertales for a beta read of the first 2/3s; to tinlizzie82 for the silly prompt that MAKES this story; to everyone on Twitter, at the 2011 DC Fangirls Squeefest and beyond who have suffered listening to me moan; again to xanthelj for sharing her universe with us and to you, those wonderful readers who leave comments. (Sub!gibbs - no thanks to you, you evahl thing. You were VERY difficult, because Gibbs, I don't think of you as a Sub, but I hope I succeeded here and wrote you as one.)Evahl wikkedness: Yes, it's done. I promise. Almost 26,000 words in total. Posted in six parts because I'm evahl and greedy and wikked and I adore comments. (Actually because I had it ready to do in three and then LJ wouldn't let me - they are linked for ease of reading.) Please leave comments and thanks for reading. Enjoy, I hope...
SHAMELESS
By Sarah. B. Leonard
You know it’s really getting’ to you
When you take to tellin’ lies
And you can try to fool your friends
But you can’t look ‘em in the eye.
‘victim of the game’ © garth brooks
It was his secret.
Gibbs knew he could never tell anyone, ever again. There was only one person who had known and she was dead now, along with their child. She had not been killed directly by a bullet, but because of one that had killed their driver. Still, it was a bullet that had killed her and with her death, there was now no one who shared his secret.
It was his alone and, because of that, he lived every waking moment as a lie.
As with the majority of people in this world, or perhaps even within this universe, he was bisexual. But he expressed himself as a dominant, as a top in this world. After his first wife had died he had married and then divorced three submissive women in a row. They hadn’t been able to stay with him and he hadn’t blamed them. But they had thought the reason that their marriages had ended was their failure. It was not. It was his failure because of his secret.
Now, he had lived it too long – lived the lie and he was stuck with it. He was too stubborn to change. He was doomed to spend his evenings with a bottle and a boat, doomed to spend his nights in longing, and, worst of all, doomed to spend his days in the company of the one he desired, the one who could never take him on that glorious journey down into subspace. For him, his path was blocked. He had pretended to be an alpha – a Dom – for too long. For him, the path was a dead end road.
Now, sitting behind his desk, listening in as his team discussed their weekends, he knew he still couldn’t tell him. How could he reveal his secret to Tony? How could he say, “Tony, I dream of you offering me a collar, of you slapping cuffs on me once again, holding me tightly as I fall for you. You take me down, show me your strength and your power, make me serve you on hands and knees as you drive into me and make me scream.”
No. Not to be said. Nor could he tell Tony how he woke, fevered, sweating, caught in the old blanket he kept hidden there in the basement with his boat, praying that just once – just once it was bonds that Tony had placed on him, that held him secure and safe for his master’s pleasure only to find it was merely another dream - only a dusty blanket holding him in its twisted folds.
They all thought he worked on the boats to relax. He worked on them to stay awake, so he wouldn’t sleep; so he couldn’t dream of what he would never have.
*****
“She had her own collar and cuffs. Red metallic leather – really cool.” Tony was talking about a submissive he’d met over the weekend. It was his usual Monday morning topic of conversation in the bullpen.
“You collared her then, yes?” Ziva’s eyes were open a shade larger than usual, as she was drawn into Tony’s story.
“Only for the weekend, Zee-vah. But she was red hot in her red hot collar.” Tony flashed his toppy smile as only he could. “And only her red hot collar.”
“Don’t you ever want someone to keep, Tony?” Tim asked.
Gibbs felt a special bond for Tim, unknown to the tall submissive. He hadn’t yet found his partner, although Gibbs suspected he’d played with both Abby and Ziva. Gibbs didn’t mind his team playing together. It gave them a tighter bond as a team, to guard each other’s backs, to sense if there was ever a problem. It made them very aware of each other. He did have rule number 12 though: No permanent collaring of a team member. That could make one member of the group too dependent upon another. They had to be able to work on their own, think independently yet function together as a unit.
He’d learned that lesson with Jenny, back when he had unsuccessfully topped her. She could barely pull that trigger without his command, and he had been shot when she hesitated, waiting for his order. At least he hadn’t married her. That would have been a disaster, having his wife as his submissive and then later as his director. That would have been a true fuster cluck!
“No, McSubby, I like to keep my options open.” Tony grinned over at him. “Besides, this way I don’t have to keep a collar and cuffs ready. I just use theirs – their toys, their floggers, their everything.” Then he spoke in a loud whisper. “All I have to spend money on is condoms – lots and lots of condoms.”
Gibbs grinned in spite of himself. That sounded like Tony. Handsome, carefree and ready to top, as long as you could provide your own supplies. Tony obviously spent a lot of money on movies and entertainment. His clothes were always top of the line. Gibbs imagined that if he had to keep buying collars, cuffs and toys to satisfy his regular nights of clubbing that would put a major crimp in his own wardrobe. Tony bought only the best.
Of course, what Tony didn’t know was that Gibbs had his own set: his own collar and cuffs. Shannon had gone with him, just after they had started dating. They’d taken that same train from Stillwater, but this time in the other direction from their initial circumstantial ride together. They’d escaped for the weekend to have him fitted with a beautiful collection: a thick elk hide collar, wrist and ankle cuffs with a matching flogger, in a deep midnight blue that Shannon had chosen, vetoing the black utility set he felt was sufficient. The stitching on the leather was a lighter blue that matched his eyes, she had claimed. She had seen the set – its twin was on display in the shop window where she worked – and she would settle for nothing less than to wrap those pieces around him, pieces that she felt were strong enough to secure him while she worked him hard with the elk hide flogger. But, because she had agreed to keep their roles as secret as he did, they had gone to buy a similar set directly from the artist who made them, not from the store where she was known. The artist had been so taken with Shannon and her love for Gibbs that he had gifted them with a matching blindfold to complete the set.
Damn. He’d be crying in his coffee soon if he couldn’t shake this train of thought.
Now Ziva was talking about her weekend. She was a strong dominant, self-centered and very sure of herself and always aware of everything around her. She and Tony worked well together in the team, their strengths complimenting each other. Both dominant, they thought around each other, supported each other and weren’t distracted by each other’s mode. Tim was as strong in his own way, totally a submissive personality but smart and quick enough to maintain his own space along with the other two. His willingness to let the others lead during action worked well with them, yet he could do the research and the ‘computer stuff’ that sustained them, and guard their backs as well as anyone could.
Yes, the team worked well together and meshed with him in his role as their leader. No, it would not do for them to find out his secret.
But it was getting more and more difficult to occupy himself with just his boat. Unfortunately, he was a healthy active male but sub enough – sub to his very soul – that he couldn’t even get himself off, successfully at least. Oh, he could come. But responding to his own hand, even while imagining it was Tony’s, wasn’t fulfilling his needs any more. The more he was around Tony, the more difficult and unfulfilling self-stimulation became.
He remembered that scene of some years ago, when Agent Lee had been disclosed as the mole at NCIS. He remembered how hard it had been to stand up against Tony, defy him as Tony had yelled at Ducky sarcastically in Autopsy, knowing all the time that he was really telling off his boss.
“I’m sorry, Ducky.” Tony’s voice was angry.
“Thank you for that apology, Anthony.”
Ducky was letting off some pent up emotion as well.
“I’m sorry we didn’t let you in on what we were doing. I knew it would piss you off but I guess I didn’t trust you enough. Sorry!”
Gibbs had to stop the urge to drop to his knees in front of him. Tony’s power and strength radiated out from him, enveloping both Gibbs and Ducky in his strong emotional space as he ranted.
“Thank you, Anthony. That will do.”
Now Ducky was trying to diffuse the flow of anger, sensing this could hurt one of the two men he cared for so much.
Tony looked over at Gibbs.
“And I’m sorry for making you look like an idiot in front of the Secretary of the Navy. I’m sorry for being a cowardly, devious son of a …”
“Anthony!” Now Ducky raised his own vocal level, trying to get him to stop.
Gibbs broke in. “Are you done?”
He kept his voice as level as he could. He knew he couldn’t let either man know what he really felt.
Tony stared at him and continued. “Excuse me. I’m not comfortable with the hand up my backside. You let ‘The Toothpick’ use us as puppets!”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You didn’t.”
“No. It was my plan.”
“Your plan?”
“Every bit of it.”
“Oh. That’s much worse.”
He’d had to move, keep himself from weakening in front of him, refuse his own desire to explain further, to allow Tony to keep the power in his own court. He’d had to live the lie yet again.
Then later, an unplanned meeting with Tony in the Men’s Room … where he’d almost given himself away again as Tony had entered. Gibbs had been standing in front of the urinal, his bared cock in his hands. Tony had leaned back against the wall, watching him, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Very deliberately he had looked Gibbs over, head to toe, (top to bottom?) as Gibbs completed his business. Gibbs had forced himself to endure pain, pinching himself where Tony couldn’t see, to keep himself from showing the arousal he had felt surge through him. The man he desired, ached for, leaning too casually back, whose gaze finally and very impolitely, settled on what Gibbs held in his hands.
Neither man spoke. Gibbs forced himself to relax, to watch his stream, pretend indifference and extreme calm, as Tony stared.
With a snort, Tony turned and left. Had he seen? Did he know? Was his secret still his own? Or had Tony learned the truth? No, he had to believe that Tony had been angry, still, but refused to indulge in a heated scene at that instant, gentleman enough to leave Gibbs to his personal business. Perhaps Gibbs had lucked out, in what he was doing and Tony had settled for getting his point across by making no snarky comments, just leaving him alone with the angry sound.
Tony hadn’t mentioned it again, although there were times now when he seemed eager to demonstrate to Gibbs that he was smart, was strong, no matter what face he showed to others. He presented himself as ready to be approved by Gibbs, as one Top appreciated another.
Gibbs listened to the chatter of his team. He wondered if they would still follow him as readily as they did now if they ever found out about his secret. Or worse, his secret life.
His secret had almost been revealed by Holly Snow, in front of no less than Director Vance. Holly, the most notorious Dominante in the city, had teased him that she could read people. Unbeknownst to everyone watching, he hoped, she had proved it to him.
“You like it rough, don’t you?” she had purred at him.
“Oh, there’s a time and a place for everything.” He spoke rapidly.
“I thought so. I’m usually pretty good at reading people – what they respond to.”
She leaned closer to him, testing him, invading his space with her strength.
“Role play?” It was then with those words that she told him she suspected his secret.
“No.” He denied it as firmly as he could. He didn’t play at his role; he lived his role.
“Hmmm.” Her eyes spoke the truth to him. “Too bad.”
But she had wanted their bargain, the plea bargain he had told her was ready for her, so she did nothing to let anyone know what she suspected about him.
Holly Snow had entered his life, and then he had saved hers. When they held each other, with her assailant dying on the floor nearby, he was merely offering comfort after he saved her life. However, her dominant nature had been soaring. The near miss, the injuries, had made their natures openly apparent to each other. She had, in that instant, confirmed both his true nature and his deceptive role.
Later, at their dinner with no expectations, they had discussed her role as the most famous Domme in Washington DC. Gibbs had been ready to break – the tension between them was strong – even though she had said as man and woman, not as Domme and Submissive. Then she had gotten her call, smiled at him with just a hint of sadness, as if she had begun to regret her request to him and left.
He sat alone at his table, the remains of their meals in front of him, while he finished his beer. The kiss she had given him on his forehead almost burned, so transparent had he been to her.
*****
It had been a quiet day, the day after the night that Holly Snow ate dinner with him. On the one hand, he’d appreciated the lack of confusion, the lack of a new murder, the lack of the continuing horrors that were so common in his job. On the other hand, quiet days were not nearly as distracting as the days of frantic activity.
Quiet days meant he had to sit diagonally across from DiNozzo and listen to the conversations about who he had topped, who he wanted to top, how he wanted to top them. Sometimes it was almost too much for him.
He had smacked DiNozzo in the back of the head just after lunch. During the lunch hour, it seemed that Tony had detoured to his favorite little supply shop and made some purchases for the weekend. Now he had been teasing Ziva and McGee, wondering if he should stop by there again just in case he hadn’t bought enough for the weekend, because, of course, he didn’t want to run out of condoms and lube.
“Do you have your eye on someone special for the weekend, Tony?” Ziva had asked.
“There is this sweet young thing I’ve been watching for a couple of weeks now.” Tony leaned back in his chair, pressing his fingertips together. He looked over to see Gibbs watching him.
“You’d probably like him, Boss. He’s a redhead.” Tony grinned at him. “Figured I’d better get to him first, try him on for size, before you offered him a collar.”
“Don’t give collars just because they have red hair, DiNozzo.” Gibbs growled over at him.
Tony smiled back at him, always pleased when he could get his grouchy boss to respond to him.
After that, he went on to describe in some explicit detail what he wanted this young sub to do for him. Gibbs looked over at McGee, who was staring open-mouthed at Tony. He wasn’t quite sure if the expression on Tim’s face was reflecting horror or desire, but it did confirm his suspicions that McGee had never played with DiNozzo.
Gibbs got up to refill his coffee. As he passed DiNozzo, he smacked his head.
“Thank you, Boss.” Tony rubbed the back of his head. “Getting back to work now, Boss.”
Gibbs snorted at him. He always wondered about his need to smack Tony. Did he secretly hope that one day Tony would rebel and turn on him, perhaps grab his wrist and force him to his knees to submit? He knew that would never happen. Tony had too much respect for him as his boss and then, like everyone else, he still thought Gibbs was a Dominant. At least, Gibbs hoped Tony still thought he was Dominant.
Yes, a quiet day. He’d let the team leave several minutes early, growling that Tony’s constant chatter about redheads was making him sick, reminding him of his ex-wives. They deserved the extra time – it would get them on the roads before rush hour hit and that was always a good thing. He’d stopped by his favorite Chinese food place for a carry-out dinner, eaten that at home along with a beer then meandered down to his workshop.
After dutifully spraying sealer to finish the children’s toys that were dry from the paint he had applied the night before, he’d amused himself with making an adult toy. He had found a solid piece of birch, dark and rosy in color, that he couldn’t resist, paying what he thought was really an exorbitant price to buy it from the supplier. He carved it to what he imagined was the shape of Tony’s cock, fully aroused, completely detailed with veins and a flaring head.
Tomorrow was Saturday. He’d stay up all night if he had to, sanding his masterpiece (Master Piece?) to smooth perfection. Then he would oil it several times over the next week or so – the color would be intensified but the grain of the wood would show through. It would go into his night stand – the second drawer - the one where his collar and cuffs and flogger lived.
Some day, when he couldn’t stand it any longer, he’d use them all on himself. But that thought he pushed out of his mind for now. Tonight, all he could think about was making the sculpture, for that was what it had become to him, an absolutely perfect work of art.
His cell phone rang. He checked his watch as he reached for the jar that held his phone, where it was protected from the sawdust. It was almost eleven. He spinned down the jar it was stored in and dropped the noisy thing into his hand. ‘Holly Snow’ was on the ID. He flipped the phone open.
“Yeah. Gibbs.”
“Special Agent Gibbs.” Holly purred into his ear.
“What can I do for you?”
“Still no foreplay, Jethro?” Holly laughed. “Actually, I wanted to do something for you.”
“For me?”
“Yes – to thank you for helping with the plea bargain, for the dinner you cooked for me and – oh yes – for saving my life.”
Gibbs grunted. Except for the dinner, the rest was his job.
“I thought I would set you up for a session with one of my people. Perhaps tomorrow night? I have several Dominants that I’m sure have the strength you require.”
“No.”
“Not even one of the men?”
“No. Not interested. Not an option.”
“Jethro – you know I know your secret. I know what you really are, what you are missing in your life. My people are professionals and very discreet professionals. Let me give this to you.”
“Not for me. If this is all you called about, I’m not interested.”
“I have one who looks like Tony.”
Shit! She knew that too? Or was she just taking a stab out into the wild blue?
“He’s very good. I’ve worked with him myself, supervised his training.” He could hear the saleswoman in her voice.
If it wasn’t so very wrong it might have been tempting. No no no no no.
“Definitely not interested there, Holly.”
“This is on the house, for you. Or as they say, I’m buying.”
“Not necessary, Holly. Is that all you wanted?”
“No cuddling after either? Well, keep it in mind, Jethro. The offer is open, and you know you need it. Think about it. When you decide you need to fall, call me. Good night.”
Gibbs grunted at the phone and flipped it closed.
That last comment of hers hit him hard. Here he was, home alone, sculpting a damn wooden cock in his basement, thinking thoughts of using it on himself. And DiNozzo was probably out there somewhere, his red haired boy-of-the-weekend carefully albeit temporarily collared and secured, probably well flogged by DiNozzo’s expert hand and certainly serving DiNozzo as he deserved to be served.
He really had sunk low. What was that song he had heard again recently? ’Friends In Low Places.’ Yeah, that was it. He certainly did have friends in low places – a boat, a bottle of bourbon and a wooden cock in his basement.
He picked the sculpture up, caressing it with his hands. He had done a good job on it – very realistic, very smooth, very cold and hard. Wooden. Like his own heart.
He checked it over carefully, one more time. It was odd, holding something so beautiful in his hands. He grabbed for his polishing rag, quickly coated it with oil, and rubbed the fluid in. He was thorough but very quick. He knew he needed to get this first coat done and get upstairs, away from the temptation of putting it into his mouth and treating it as if it was the man he ached to serve.
It was shiny now, as if freshly lubed. Ready for him. He put it down on his workbench, forcing his hands to listen to his commands. Leave it down here. It will be ready for another coat of oil tomorrow. It is perfectly safe down here. Leave it. Go up the stairs. Leave it.
Now turn out all the lights on this level then go up the next set of stairs. Now into the bathroom. Clothes off, into the hamper. Use the toilet. Shake once, definitely not more than twice. Wash hands. Brush teeth. Spit. Rinse. Spit.
He had to follow these internal commands. Voice them silently in his mind. Follow them. Follow his own commands when all he wanted to do was to race downstairs, grab that cock and fuck himself with it.
Damn – that call from Holly Snow had certainly not helped. If anything, she had made it all worse.
Gibbs scratched at his head, messing up his hair. He shrugged his shoulders, working out the kinks as he glanced over at the mirror above the sink. He checked out his own body, looking for signs of age. Other than the silver hair, he didn’t look bad. Maybe not a ‘trophy sub’ but still, not bad. Probably not what Tony would want, though. He seemed to specialize in blonds and redheads in the twenty-five to thirty-five year old range. And that Gibbs definitely couldn’t do.
No, there was no hope for him there. He was doomed, doomed to spend his nights with a wooden statue and his bed, the bed where he had submitted to Shannon, then tried to top the three Ex-wives. Even though they had all been captivated with the swirling metal headboard and footboard (another one of the items Shannon had insisted upon – strong enough to hold him yet appearing delicate and feminine for her), he had not been able to give them what they needed.
He went to bed and forced himself to sleep. He needed his sleep. Tomorrow he would have to face Tony again, and, while facing him, not think about the sculpture he had waiting down in his basement. It would take several more coats of oil before the wood was thoroughly seasoned enough to actually use. The oil he was coating it with now was being absorbed rapidly. He would get through the next day and come home, eagerly, to see what it looked like and coat it again.
*****
(Pfoof - fade to black.)
End of Part One
Comments carefully collected and loved.
SHAMELESS Part Two
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Ahem...what more is there to say? *g* Loving it and off to read the next part!
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SLAP
Hey - no headslaps allowed in the comments!
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*flees to read the rest, now that it's all posted up and stuff*
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I can't say the posting worked that well for me. Sometimes I think that because I like out in the stix and use satelite that LJ likes to mess with me.... Hope you can read it!
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Glad you are enjoying it!
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*bounces off to next chapter*
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See you after the next chapter...
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looking forward to reading more :D
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That being said..... Holly Snow? Oh dear, this can't be good.... It's gonna be *very* good.
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