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Pairing: Tony/Gibbs & Tony/OMC
Warnings: BDSM, angst, violence, language
Summary: Tony gets what he needs from someone other than Gibbs, which almost destroys their relationship.
There was no reason for him to be there. Absolutely no reason to go to any kind of club, let alone one that catered to the darker side of sexuality. He was in a relationship, a damn good, satisfying relationship. He was loved, even if the words hadn't yet been said. He had incredible sex on an almost daily basis, depending on their case load. He was trusted and respected. All of that could, and probably would, come to a screeching halt the second this little foray was discovered.
Despite all of that, Tony walked slowly through the crowd of people dressed to impressed, bodies in all shapes and sizes that were decorated with excruciating care. It wasn't like the preening of a club designated for the young and beautiful and 'perfect.' These were men and women who had plenty of curves, or none, and were accepting of sexuality no matter what form it took. Lots of leather. The smell of it filled Tony's nose and sent a thrill through him, reminding him of other times BG; Before Gibbs.
There were a lot of things he didn't do now, that he had before joining Gibbs' team. Tony didn't kid himself that the other man didn't know about his past. The vetting for his position at NCIS would have been too thorough and Tony hadn't exactly been hiding what he did for fun. It had never mattered to him, the occasional snide remark or implied threat, because he'd always had stand-up partners who would watch his back.
What Gibbs didn't know, though, was that his time spent in clubs like this had bordered on not-quite-playing towards the end.
It was that, which now propelled him through the bodies moving in time to the music, towards the bar he hadn't before graced in this particular city, though he'd known others just like it, in other cities. He didn't know the scene in DC, had deliberately stayed away from it the whole time he'd been employed at NCIS. Not for any real fear of consequences at work, but because he hadn't been sure of what he wanted anymore.
"Well hello there beautiful, what can I get you?" asked a bald, thin man from behind the bar counter.
Tony grinned at the man and answered, "Just a Shirley Temple, thanks."
Barely-there, dark eyebrows rose, but the man put together the non-alcoholic drink and set it in front of him. "Are you lost, sugar?"
Laughing softly, Tony shook his head and looked around the dance floor, sipping at the drink and relishing the sweetness. He definitely wasn't lost, but he wasn't all that sure where he wanted to go, either.
A slender, tell woman with long reddish hair approached him with a smile and asked, "Are you looking for company, honey?"
Tony could tell that she was a Domme, but he wasn't looking for a woman for whatever this was. Shaking his head with a pleasant smile, he replied in as inoffensive a tone as possible, "Not from a woman, thank you."
She gave him a disappointed moue, but nodded and left without argument.
It was a good fifteen minutes later that a strong hand clamped down on his shoulder, getting his attention, but not alarming him. He discovered a man about his own height with blondish hair and pale eyes smiling at him. The man was dressed casually in jeans and shirt, but his air of authority was unmistakable, though Tony was sure the man wasn't a cop, or military. It was a different bearing altogether.
"Hi," the man greeted, sitting on the stool beside Tony, letting his hand slide down his arm before trailing off. "I'm Peter."
Tony smiled back and answered, "Tony."
"You're new here," Peter stated.
"Yep," Tony agreed.
Peter motioned to the bartender and ordered, "Vodka on the rocks. You want a refill?"
Tony shook his head, leaning against the counter as he took in the other man's tells. Soft hands, so he probably worked in an office. Firm body, which meant he worked out. Moderately expensive clothes which meant he either had money and didn't feel the need to flaunt it, or just had good taste and didn't mind spending money on it.
"So, Tony. What are you looking for?" Peter asked.
Tony blinked at him, almost having forgotten how blunt people on the scene could be. "I'm...not really sure. It's been a few years since I've done this and..."
"And I'm in a relationship right now. I won't be unfaithful to him."
Peter eyed him thoughtfully. "You don't consider this to be unfaithful?"
Unsure how to explain himself, Tony finally just said, "No."
"Would he feel the same?" Peter questioned.
Tony hesitated but had to answer, "I don't know. Maybe."
"Shouldn't you be talking to him about it, then?"
The almost gentle suggestion caused Tony to flush in mingle shame and embarrassment. "He won't understand."
One of Peter's hands returned to Tony's shoulder to squeeze it as he replied, "You don't know unless you bring it up. And isn't it better to have things out in the open, rather than let them build up and possibly blow up in your face later?"
And now Tony knew what the man did for a living. A short laugh escaped and Tony accused, "You're a shrink."
Peter grinned. "Busted. Doesn't make the question any less valid."
"I know, but we're just getting on an even keel," Tony told him. "I really, really don't want to rock the boat on this one. Not until, well, ever really, but I'll settle for a couple of years down the road."
"Might not necessarily make it better," Peter pointed out.
A little aggravated, Tony snapped, "I didn't come here for therapy!"
Peter's gaze narrowed. "Show respect, boy."
The cold tone that replaced the previous friendly one took Tony by surprise and he automatically looked down to the floor. Awkward, Tony took a few seconds to regain his composure to look up at the other man and apologize helplessly, "Sorry. I just...I just need..."
Peter ghosted a hand over Tony's hair and said, "It's all right, Tony. Let's get a table and discuss exactly what you need."
Relieved, Tony nodded and followed the other man to a table off to the side of the main room.
* * * *
Pain. Glorious, blistering, agonizing pain all centered on his ass. Tony jerked futilely at the restraints around his wrists as he cried out at the continuing flogging. The leather lashed his skin, sending a fire through him that had been absent for too long. He didn't even hear any of the others in the room as they watched, the Dungeon Master circling the edges to make sure things were going the way to which they'd been agreed. All his senses were focused on his bare ass and thighs and then, at the last, over his chest.
When he hung shuddering and weak in his bonds, gentle and strong hands unbuckled him and gently lowered him to a nearby, backless chair. Tony groaned as his throbbing ass hit the cushion.
"You all right, Tony?" Peter asked softly, stroking his fingers through Tony's hair.
Giving the other man what had to be a dopey smile, resting on Peter's strength, Tony sighed deeply and answered, "Great. I am perfect."
Peter chuckled fondly and continued to hold him through the endorphins.
* * * *
Tony had timed his visit to Eternal for when Gibbs was out of town for a week at a hated Law Enforcement conference in
. They talked every night and frequently during the day when Gibbs wasn't in some boring lecture. The senior agent had tried to get out of it, and had almost managed it, but Tony was ultimately glad that Vance had forced him to go at the last minute. Boston
He knew that he wouldn't be able to take Peter up on his offer to privately dominate him as often as he'd like, not with Gibbs as a lover. The agent would notice any deviation to his behavior and would sure as hell notice marks that hadn't come from the job, or Gibbs himself, on Tony's body. But there were at least a couple of weekends every quarter that Gibbs had to do the administration thing and wound up going somewhere for a long weekend. As long as Tony saw Peter the first night, he had time for his body to get back to normal for Gibbs' return.
Six full months passed like that, four sessions in total where Tony had been bound and beaten with the implement of his choice in Peter's home dungeon. They'd met a few times outside of that scene, just to get to know one another and Tony liked what he saw. Peter was easy-going, most of the time, and good to hang out with at the movies or watching sports. He didn't have that burning anger that fueled Gibbs and was relaxing to be around. A decided change, which was nice. They became friends, of a sort, and that was enough for Tony.
And then Gibbs came home early from a conference.
* * * *
Tony was stretched out comfortably on top of the bed, relaxing on a pillow as he read a magazine and listened to the radio while his body throbbed in lingering pain. Peter had been in rare form earlier, using a crop instead of the usual flogger, at Tony's request. He'd wanted something sharp and focusing after an abysmal week of reports and slogging through the dirty winter landscape, or lack thereof, in DC. The other man had soothed the marks with lotion after and Tony was letting the air get to the hot skin, laying naked on the quilt.
"Jesus Christ, Tony! What the hell happened to you?"
Tony rolled onto his back at Gibbs' shocked exclamation, yelped in pain at the contact, and scrambled off the bed. "You're, you're home...what happened?"
Gibbs looked at him for all of ten seconds before comprehension dawned on him that Tony hadn't been attacked and snarled, "You son of a bitch! What the fuck did you do?"
Flinching at Gibbs' harsh demand, Tony turned his back turned to the wall, the other man stalking towards him with murder in his eyes. Tony's arms went up automatically in a defensive position, though he knew it wouldn't stop the other man if he was bent on inflicting damage. That one action stopped Gibbs in his tracks, but Tony was truly afraid of him for the first time since they'd met and didn't move. For all of everyone's joking, Gibbs could kill someone with his bare hands, if motivated to do so.
"Jesus, Tony, I'm sorry," Gibbs finally said, voice hoarse with regret. "Look at me, please?"
Tony slowly lowered his arms, looking at the other man to find shock and regret plain on Gibbs' face. His heart was still thundering with fear and it took a few more seconds for him to draw a complete breath.
Taking his own breath, Gibbs slowly let it out and asked, "Can I come closer?"
But Tony was still shaking from what had just almost happened and answered, "I ah, I don't think that's a good idea right now."
Gibbs flinched minutely, but nodded. "Okay, that's fair. Shit, Tony, I am so sorry. I, I lost it. I swear it won't ever happen again. I swear, Tony."
Tony believed him, but couldn't forget what he'd seen on Gibbs' face, the sight of pure rage burned into his brain. "I'm just, I'm gonna sit down."
Gibbs nodded again and backed away, letting Tony sit on the bed without interference.
"Did you want to call someone to stay with you? I could leave," Gibbs offered quietly.
What a mess, Tony thought, sighing. Scrubbing fingers through his hair, the motion pulling a grimace of pain from his stripes, he said, "No, don't go. It's your home too, Gibbs."
"Are you okay?"
Tony nodded, knowing that he was talking about the beating. "I'm fine. Uncomfortable, but fine."
Which left them at an impasse, with Gibbs standing there looking vaguely nauseas, though whether at his actions or seeing Tony like that, maybe both, Tony had no idea.
Gibbs abruptly said, "I need coffee," and left the bedroom.
Whether giving him space was intentional or not, Tony was glad the other man was gone so he could collect himself. He got slowly to his feet and went to the dresser, pulling out soft sweats to get dressed. Anything else would be too abrasive on his skin, but there was no way he'd face Gibbs in a robe. He got dressed before reaction caught up to him and he had to rush for the bathroom to throw up. All the trust that he'd had for Gibbs was shredded. He hadn't realized just how deep that trust had gone until just that moment, when it had vanished and he was sick with the loss.
It wasn't until he was dry-heaving that Tony began to get some kind of control over his body. At least, until the thought that if Peter had been there when Gibbs had gotten home, a homicide would have occurred. There was bone-deep certainty to that realization and Tony's body tried to throw up again, stomach racked in painful spasms when there was absolutely nothing left to come up.
"Tony? Tony, honey, can I come in?"
Startled by Abby's voice, Tony looked over to find the door shut, though he didn't remember doing it.
The doorknob rattled and she continued, "Can you unlock the door? Are you okay enough to do that? Tony?"
Spitting into the toilet and putting a hand to his stomach to hopefully keep it in place, Tony flushed the nasty bowl clean and then reached over to unlock the bathroom door. He opened it as he sat back against the tub, ignoring the pain in his back and ass when he did.
Abby immediately entered and closed the door behind her, locking it behind her and sitting beside him, not making any attempt to touch him. "I hear you've had a rough night."
Tony stifled the hysterical laughter that tried to get out as he answered, "What makes you say that? Just because Gibbs was going to kill me?"
"Tony, he wouldn't..."
"You didn't see him, Abs," Tony interrupted, shivering as he remembered.
Abby sighed and said, "Well, you can't hide in the bathroom forever. I'm here to help."
Hugging his knees to his chest, Tony whispered, "I don't think you can."
"You don't know unless you try, Tony," Abby countered, slowly putting her arm over his shoulder.
Tony leaned against her, resting his head on her shoulder, and sighed deeply. It was going to be a long night.
* * * *
The half-hour it took for Abby to get to the house while Tony was throwing up in the bathroom was about the longest thirty minutes in Jethro's life. He'd gone back to the bedroom to attempt another apology when he'd found the bathroom door closed and heard Tony vomiting through it. Not bothering to ask if he could help, since he was surely the cause, he'd pulled out his cell and called Abby. He hadn't had to say more than, "I fucked up bad. Tony needs you here, now," before Abby had hung up and he'd known she was on her way. When her car had pulled into the driveway with a screech of brakes, Jethro had strode to the door and opened it, not surprised that she only gave him a worried look before jogging up the stairs to help Tony.
And now he waited for them to come down to the kitchen, a cold cup of coffee in his hands. It had only been about twenty minutes since she'd arrived, but each minute had taken forever to pass, locked in his memories as he was. The sight of Tony's smooth, pale skin sliced with a dark, vivid red in marks that told him that someone else had seen what was his, someone else had touched that body since it had come into his bed.
The depth of his reaction still sent a shock of fear through Jethro as he thought about just how close to real violence he'd come, only a little over an hour ago. The sight of Tony with his arms held protectively in front of him, bent in fear, had nausea roiling through him. If he hadn't gotten control of himself... All the times he'd eyed a jealous lover turned murderer with disgust, all the times he'd silently consigned those people to hell, only to find out he was no better...
Jethro's head jerked over to Abby in the doorframe and he straightened, setting the mug on the counter and then lacing his hands together to seem as unthreatening as possible. Tony stood behind her, dressed in sweats instead of naked, but not looking at him. Jethro's stomach dropped further, but he only asked, "Anyone want coffee?"
Abby shook her head and she walked over to the table, herding Tony over there as well. "I've gotten the gist from Tony, but now I need to hear your side."
But Jethro could only hold his hands out, helpless, and say, "There's no side, Abs. I lost control. I was going to...to hurt him."
He absolutely couldn't say 'kill.'
Sighing, Abby said, "You have a side, Gibbs, it's just not a pretty one. You came home, you saw Tony beaten to hell and back on purpose, and assumed he'd been fucking around on you, right?"
Jethro nodded, as painful as that was.
"Okay, gentlemen, what we have here is a failure to communicate."
The joke fell flat and Jethro just looked at her.
Abby sighed and said, "New rule number one, Gibbs. Tony can fuck around on you all he wants and not worry about getting his ass kicked, or killed. That is rule number one. Unbreakable and unbendable. Period. End of story. Got it, buster?"
Jethro nodded firmly. "Understood. It will never happen again."
"Okay. On to the miscommunication portion of tonight's unfestivities," Abby continued. "Tony did not screw around, Gibbs. He's never been unfaithful to you."
Staggered, though he didn't move, Jethro's gaze flashed to Tony, but the other man still wouldn't meet his gaze. "Not...then how?"
"Tony needed something he was afraid to ask you for, which is actually kind of ironic given the reason I'm here, but he needs someone to give him pain," Abby said quietly.
Jethro shook his head as if to clear it, unable to wrap his mind around what had just been said. "Tony, look at me."
Reluctant, Tony did so and finally met his gaze. Jethro saw shame and embarrassment and fear in the hazel eyes staring back at him. He remembered the stripes of red across Tony's body and saw them suddenly in another light. "You're saying that since we've been together, you haven't had sex with anyone else?"
"Not once. I would never do that to you."
The words were quiet, and emphatic, leaving no room for doubt. That left Jethro with the strange evidence that Tony had someone who...beat him...with some kind of thin, hard thing, maybe a crop or a cane.
"But in a way, Tony, you have to admit that you did cheat on Gibbs," Abby countered. "Giving that kind of power to someone outside your main squeeze just isn't cool, even if it's not technically cheating. It's kinda in the realm of Clinton-cheating, only, not quite. So yeah, he shouldn't have gone flying off the handle like that, but his instinct was on point."
Tony flushed and looked away from Jethro as he wrapped his arms around himself.
"Okay. I can see the two of you have some talking to do that I totally don't need to be present for, so I'm gone. Call me if you need me," Abby said, standing and giving first Tony, and then Jethro, a kiss on the cheek.
Jethro watched her go, at a loss as to what he should say to Tony. The impulse to keep apologizing was still very much there and he moved slowly as he approached the other man. Given his knowledge of Tony's past, what he'd done was doubly heinous, probably giving Tony flashbacks and killing a lot of what was between them. Trust, for Tony, was the ultimate in a relationship and why he'd rarely been in a serious one.
Looking up at him again, Tony cleared his throat and said simply, "I'm sorry, too."
Jethro held out a hand to Tony, willing him to accept it and, when he did, slowly and carefully pulled Tony into his arms. Wrapped around the other man, breathing him in, pressing his lips to the throat. "We'll get through this, Tony, I promise."
Tony sagged against him at that, the words finally pouring out in a rush. "I'm sorry I didn't come to you, Jethro, but I knew you wouldn't understand, and I didn't want to put you in the position of saying, 'No thanks, you perv.' because then things would get awful and we'd break up and I just wanted to keep you, but I'm sorry I hurt you, going to someone else for this, so sorry."
Stroking his hand over Tony's head, Jethro waited for the words to run out before saying, "It's okay, Tony, it really is. We'll talk about that tomorrow. Can we just get some sleep? I'm wiped."
A shaky chuckle escaped Tony as he pulled back and agreed, "Sure. Me, too."
Jethro leaned in and gently took his mouth, achingly relieved when Tony opened to it and they could reconnect, just a little.
It was a start, and he would take it, and run with it.
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