tingreca | THE PILLOW RULE

Title: Pillow Possibility #2 - THE PILLOW RULE
Author: Sarah B. Leonard
Fandom: NCIS
Genre: Slash
Pairing: Gibbs/DiNozzo
Categories: post-ep for Flesh and Blood
Rating: Adult
Warnings: adult spanking, an evil pillow, the kitchen sink - no really: kitchen sink!!!
Wordcount: 1,000 and another 666..... (devilish, yes?) ... for 1,666
Spoilers: Flesh and Blood
Disclaimer: These characters belong to DPB, CBS, Paramount, et al. No copyright infringement is intended.
Authors notes: I feel a few possibilities coming on. Here is the second possibility... And thanks to

xanthelj for the nudge in the right (write!!!!) direction. Feedback (and pillows) adored.

Pillow Possibility #2: The Pillow Rule

“Amen.”

Gibbs held out the beer bottle and Tony clicked it with his. Maybe now all was forgiven.

He glanced over at the pillow that he had tossed onto the green chair. It hadn’t been his imagination. It was still there.

They continued to eat their steaks. Tony rattled on about his father, wondering what he would be up to in Monte Carlo next month, and then mentioned the cruise again.

“Maybe one day we can go on a cruise, Boss.”

Gibbs gave him an eyebrow look. Tony swallowed his bite of steak quickly.

“Or not.”

He looked at the green chair again. The pillow was still there. It seemed to have fluffed itself up.

Tony squirmed a bit on the couch. He sliced off another piece of meat and started to chew.

“I guess there’s next year’s Frat event. Maybe I’ll have paid off my debts by then.”

Yup. That damn pillow was still there. Still white. Still on a green chair. He hadn’t imagined it.

“Or maybe we could do something together, Boss. What do you think?”

He watched as Gibbs sliced off another chunk of his steak, stuck his fork in it and lifted it to his mouth. Then Gibbs turned to look at him. The reds of the fire burning in the fireplace reflected off his eyes, changing the color to a wicked devilish glow.

Gibbs just grinned at him, then glanced at the green chair. The chair with the white pillow on it. The evil white pillow.

Damn. He wasn’t imagining it. He had walked into the room, picked up the pillow, thrown that same pillow onto yonder green chair and sat down. He hadn’t even realized what he’d done until he sat next to Gibbs and started eating his portion of the steak. And looked up to see the pillow. There. On the green chair. Staring back at him. Taunting him. Fluffing up. Growing larger and larger.

He took another swallow of his beer, but a small one. He knew now that he would have to savor that bottle of beer – make it last during the whole steak. Gibbs would stop him from getting another. One beer and that was the limit. He could have more later, he knew, but that would be after. After the pillow. Before, only one beer. It was a mutually acknowledged rule.

They both knew the rule. Gibbs would have one beer or one drink of bourbon, but only one, if the night was going to involve more than just a shared dinner. If the night was going to involve that evil white pillow.

This rule didn’t have a number, like rule six or rule eighteen. It was just a rule. A plain rule, unadorned by a number. Although it did have a certain relationship to a pillow. The pillow rule – that’s what it was. If it did have a number, Tony mused, it just might be 666.

If a certain pillow was going to be used then one alcoholic drink was the limit. There could not be a dulling of the senses. Everyone involved had to be sharp and clear and very responsive to what was happening. There couldn’t be even the slightest possibility of being unaware of exactly what was happening when that pillow was in use, by the user or the usee. Tony glared over at the pillow again, unaware that he had stopped chewing as he tried to decide if he was the user or the usee. Didn’t matter, really, as the evil pillow got used. It sat there, taunting him. Waiting for him.

“Don’t like the steak?” Gibbs questioned him.

“Oh no, Boss – great steak. I was just thinking of something.”

“What’s that?”

“Ahhh… “ Tony had to come up with something else. ‘User’ and ‘usee’ was too silly.

“I was just wondering how you know what you know.”

“I know you. And that wasn’t what you were thinking.”

“How do you do it?”

“Your eyes, your face.”

“I give it away?”

“I am an investigator, DiNozzo. I’ve been investigating you for some time now.” Gibbs chuckled as he cut another piece. He gestured with the meat on his fork. “I know you, what you do, what you are made of, what you need and what you can take.”

Pillow talk. The pillow was still there, over there, on the green chair and Gibbs had just mentioned the pillow. Not in so many words, but subtly. He had just confirmed Tony’s suspicions that the pillow was here for a reason. A very specific and wicked reason.

And Tony knew what the reason was. He lifted his bottle and finished it.

“I’m gonna get some water, Boss. You want some?”

“Nah. I’ll have another beer later. After.” Gibbs’s last bite of steak disappeared between his lips.

Tony stood, then leaned over and picked up the plates. He might as well take them into the kitchen while he got his drink.

He stood in front of the sink, drinking the glass of water that he had filled. This was the little bit of time that Gibbs would allow him to himself, before the pillow was used. Pillow prep time. He knew why the pillow was there. He hadn’t been at all surprised by its appearance.

He had let his father run loose over their investigation, he’d let the prince over-rule his own good sense and run wild, and then, to make matters even worse, he’d pretended that his father’s friend ‘Al’ had paid for the ticket. He’d essentially lied right to Gibbs’s face because he hadn’t wanted to admit he’d bought the ticket and paid for the suite. He’d caved to his father yet again.

Tony set the glass down on the counter next to the sink. Might as well get it over with.

He walked back into the living room. There, on the green chair, was the pillow. He picked it up and tossed it to Gibbs, who caught it and laid it carefully over his lap. As he watched, Gibbs pushed his sleeves up, out of the way and shrugged his shoulders once, loosening them up for what was to come.

Tony unfastened his belt and his pants, letting them fall to the floor. He stepped out of them, not the least bit embarrassed by his commando state. Then he unbuttoned his shirt and let that drop over the green chair, where the white pillow had been.

“Where do you want me, Gibbs?”

Gibbs raised his hands up to shoulder height, then swatted his right hand down hard, directly in the middle of the pillow. The pillow changed shape. It looked like it was smiling – leering up at him. Tony sighed in response. That had been one loud whump on the poor defenseless yet somehow still evil pillow. Tony watched very carefully as Gibbs raised his hand back into striking position.

“You know where, Tony. Right here, on the pillow.”

Tony gulped, once, imagining the force of that hand on a certain non-taunting non-evil portion of his anatomy. Then he crawled across the couch and situated himself, face down, over Gibbs’s lap, on top of the evil white pillow.

The fire in the fireplace cracked. Gibbs’s hand landed, hard, on his ass. Crack!

Tony could feel the hated pillow beneath him, keeping him from touching Gibbs’s lap, holding him in place. He dug his fingers into the couch, then grabbed the small green pillow leaning against the arm.

The fire place popped again. First the evil pillow taunted him and now the fire was mocking him.

The hand landed again.

‘Ow!’

Gibbs chuckled. For a moment, he ghosted his hand over Tony’s ass, just barely caressing the warm flesh. Tony quivered. He could feel the hairs on his butt when Gibbs did that – feel them lift. It made his skin tingle.

Crack! Pop! Gibbs’s punishing hand and the fire were synchronized this time. Tony bit into the small green pillow at the end of the couch to keep from crying out. He could pretend he was biting the evil white pillow.

Gibbs kept up a regular rhythm, hard, steady, so extremely Gibbsian. The fire continued to crackle and pop. Tony felt as if the fire was leaping from behind the grating to his ass. The heat was building.

Gawd. Would he never stop? Tears were gathering behind Tony’s closed eyelids. Gibbs had never spanked him like this before. He should have known. He’d been clued in by the cowboy hat swats. Usually only one head slap was the routine, but he’d been multi-slapped with that hat.

He squeezed the pillow that he held between his teeth, now clenching it in his hands as well. He bounced with every blow that landed. Finally he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Gibbs! Stop! Puleeze.”

“One more, DiNozzo.” Crack!

Damn. That one really hurt.

Gibbs leaned over him. He could feel the pressure from the fabric of his sweatshirt rubbing on his sore butt. Then suddenly, he was almost overwhelmed by an icy hot sensation. He looked backwards to see Gibbs rolling a cold beer bottle over his glowing red cheeks. Gibbs grinned at him, his eyes reflecting the flames again. Tony wondered if he would ever tell him how devilish it made his eyes look.

“Now,” Gibbs growled at him, watching Tony’s surprised reaction to the icy frost of the beer bottle on his fire hot ass. “Let’s take this to the bedroom.”

“Bedroom? More spanking in the bedroom?” He didn’t think he could take much more.

“Nah. That wasn’t what I had in mind.”

Gibbs stroked a gentle hand down the back of his head. Tony melted into the caress. That was a relief. Tony relaxed a bit, still deeply aware of his throbbing ass and wondering what it would feel like with Gibbs pounding against it with something other than his hand. The thought had intriguing possibilities.

“And Tony…”

“What, Boss?”

“Bring your pillow.”