NCIS Fic: Movie Night (NC-17)
Feb. 11th, 2009 11:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
annundrielThis is my 1600 post on LJ. Exciting!
Movie Night
DiNozzo/McGee
NC-17
2173 words
Tim surprises Tony on movie night.
Many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ginnith who helped me work out some awkward bits. This originally started as a response to the "James Bond" prompt in the porn battle. It wasn't going where I wanted it to at the time and I ended up writing something else for the prompt. But I couldn't let this go. And, yes, it did turn out to be the longest and dirtiest thing I've ever finished.
Tony comes out of the kitchen, popcorn bowl in hand. He’s been slowly filling in the gap in Tim’s education that is any sort of film knowledge and tonight he’s got Goldfinger lined up. He’s been looking forward to it all week.
Tim’s already on the couch, sock-covered feet propped on the coffee table next to two partially empty bottles of beer. He’s wearing jeans and his MIT sweater; he looks comfortable, like he belongs there on Tony’s couch. Tony likes that a lot.
“You,” he says, sitting next to him, “are in for a treat.” He settles the bowl on his lap and puts his feet up. Nudging Tim’s feet with his own bare ones, his mouth falls easily into his Sean Connery impression as he says, “Do you expect me to talk?”
Reaching for the remote, Tony’s floored when Tim says, “No, Mr. Bond, I expect you to die.”
Tony stares at him, sitting beside him so innocently on Tony’s couch, that he probably looks ridiculous gaping the way he is. He can’t help it. “Oh my God, McGee. You,” he flounders. “You—“
Tim rolls his eyes. “What, Tony?”
“You’ve been holding out on me!”
“Really? I thought I’d been putting out.”
And that’s it, Tony has to pounce.
He hears a thud when the popcorn bowl hits the floor, but after that all he notices is the surprised sort of noise Tim makes as Tony presses him back into the cushions. It doesn’t last long, though, turning into a groan as Tony’s mouth finds his. Tony takes advantage of Tim’s surprise to slip his tongue inside, sliding it wetly along Tim’s own until Tim’s gotten over the sudden attack and is kissing him back.
He loves doing this, loves going to work and coming home and having Tim with him at each part. Doesn’t matter if they’re working or hanging out or teasing or fucking, they’ve got a good thing going on.
Tim’s fingers sneak beneath Tony’s shirt, pulling the fabric up, giving him access to skin. They should go to the bedroom, they should really go to the bedroom—the couch isn’t big enough for both of them—but Tony doesn’t want to move, not when Tim’s squirming so happily beneath him, pliant with lust and already hard against Tony’s thigh.
There’s an uncomfortable moment as Tim tries to twist his legs beneath them because Tim’s spine does not bend that way, much as Tony thinks it should. “Tony, wait,” he says, breathless. And even though Tony can’t wait, doesn’t want to wait, Tim gets moved around until his thighs bracket Tony’s, their hips pressed tight together.
Tony groans at the pressure, the heat he can feel coming off of Tim. He jerks forward at the feel of Tim’s fingers edging beneath the waistband of his jeans and underwear. There’s not a lot of room, but there’s enough for Tim to run his hands downward until he’s cupping Tony’s ass, palms hot against Tony’s skin.
A little bit further and Tim’s fingers will be right where Tony likes them. Knowing exactly what he wants, he pulls his mouth away and gasps, “Fuck me.”
Tim’s fingers pause as he squints up at him. His cheeks are flushed and his mouth is swollen. Tony can see his pulse racing beneath his skin on his neck. “On the couch?”
“Are you arguing with me?”
“No,” Tim says, hands flexing briefly against Tony’s ass. “No, I just—“
“Then fuck me,” Tony says and presses his lips against that speeding pulse, follows it with tongue and teeth until he’s at Tim’s jaw where he stops and takes a moment to suck and nibble.
“Oh, God,” Tim groans, his hands clutching harder when Tony moves his hips, dragging their still covered erections against one another.
He likes the noise Tim makes when he does it, so he shifts his hips again, harder this time. Tim whimpers, slides his hands away from Tony’s ass and around to his front. “There’s not going to be any fucking if you keep that up,” Tim says, pushing against his chest. “Tony. Back up.”
Tony sits up until he’s kneeling between Tim’s thighs. He’s sorry to lose the contact, but he gets over it quickly enough when Tim’s hands go to work on the button of his jeans. Grabbing the hem of his shirt, Tony pulls it over his head in one quick motion.
Tony can feel Tim’s fingers stopping moving on his jeans and when he looks, Tim’s staring, pupils dilated, lips shiny and wet. Tony grins at him and leans back in to nip at his mouth once, twice. “Come on, McGee,” he growls. “I’m waiting.”
“Wouldn’t want to keep you waiting,” Tim says, eyes meeting Tony’s. There’s a tiny line of concentration between his brows as his hands tug at Tony’s jeans, freeing the button and pulling the zipper down. “You could give me a hand, you know.” He’d sound annoyed if he didn’t sound so turned on.
Tony smirks down at him. “Oh,” he says, moving his hand to cup Tim through his jeans. “Believe me, I know.” He likes the feel of Tim’s cock through his pants, the weighted heat of it against the palm of his hand dulled by layers of material. He squeezes once, making Tim squirm, before going to work at getting to skin.
Underneath layers of clothes, Tim’s skin is hot and smooth. He fits perfectly into Tony’s hand and Tony takes a moment just to hold him, to drool a little over the way Tim’s cock looks in his hand before Tim’s hips twitch and he growls, “Tony.”
Tony leans down far enough to kiss him, bending his back farther than is entirely comfortable. Tim’s hands land on his back, skidding across his shoulder blades, fingers digging in when Tony jerks him once, twice.
He whimpers when Tony pulls away to stand. “Tony, what—?”
“Hold your horses, McGee,” Tony says. He swats him on the knee. “And get rid of those clothes.” Taking a moment to adjust himself, Tony heads into his bedroom. Behind him, he can hear Tim mutter, “Now you want me to be patient?”
Once in his room, Tony goes to the nightstand and opens the top drawer, grabs the bottle of lube and a condom. He hesitates on his way by the bathroom before reaching in and grabbing a towel.
In the living room, Tim’s followed his instructions and is naked on the couch, stroking himself slowly as he waits. “Nice,” Tony says, voice appreciative. Tim flushes a little more, but doesn’t move other than the slow twist of his left hand as he pleasures himself. Tony just watches him for a minute and when Tim’s face turns curious, Tony holds up the bottle and shakes it before tossing it and the condom beside Tim on the couch. He drops the towel on the coffee table. “Forgot something,” he says.
Hooking his thumbs in his waistbands, Tony removes the rest of his clothing in one swift movement and stalks toward the couch—avoiding the worst of the spilled popcorn on the floor—before lowering himself over Tim, knees on either side of Tim’s thighs. Tim’s hands go to Tony’s hips, steadying him as Tony presses forward until their erections brush. There’s a hiss of air through teeth as Tony takes them both in hand and Tony’s not sure if that was him or Tim or both of them. But it doesn’t matter because finally, finally, they are both naked and he’s got Tim almost exactly where he wants him and who knew he could have things this good?
Tim’s mouth is sweet and lewd against his own, tongue slick and knowing. Sometimes it’s really hard to work with the guy, knowing he can kiss like this. During the day, Tony will find himself wanting to drag him to a corner somewhere just to find out if he’s remembering things correctly.
Tim pulls his mouth away, gasping. “I thought you wanted me to fuck you?”
Nipping at his jaw, Tony releases them to reach for the lube. He leans back and pops it open. “Give me your hand.”
When Tim holds out his left hand, it trembles slightly. Tony pours some onto his outstretched fingers and leans over, setting the bottle on the floor, before taking Tim’s hand and squeezing, sliding their fingers together, reveling in the feeling of skin against lube-slicked skin. “You good?” he asks, catching Tim’s eye.
Instead of answering, Tim’s other hand sneaks up to Tony’s neck and suddenly Tony’s being pulled forward and down to Tim’s waiting mouth. Oh yeah, Tim’s good. Tim’s more than good.
The kiss is full of teeth and tongue and Tony doesn’t even notice when Tim lets go of his hand and then Tim’s fingers are there, right there, sliding into Tony so sweetly he can’t help but moan into Tim’s mouth.
Tony clutches at Tim, at his shoulders, his arms, his side; he can’t keep his hands still and Tim can’t keep his fingers still and this is what Tony needs, it’s what Tony wants, Tim’s fingers in him and on him. Tomorrow he’ll feel all of this as he sits at his desk, know that there are bruises the shape of Tim’s fingertips on his skin.
Sliding his hand down Tim’s forearm, he stops when he gets to his wrist, holding him hard enough to get his attention and stop him from moving. “Enough,” he says and he fumbles on the couch for the condom, reaches for the lube. He makes short work of slicking Tim up and sliding the condom down; he’s too ready to wait any longer and, from the look on Tim’s face, Tim is, too.
Kneeling up, Tony reaches between them until he’s got Tim’s cock positioned where he wants it and they both groan as he slides back down, slowly and smoothly. Once he’s got Tim fully inside him, pressed as close as they can get in this position, Tony tenses his thighs and begins to move.
He starts slowly at first, enjoying the drag and pull of Tim’s cock inside him and the way he can feel every inch. If he tilts his hips just so, he hits his prostate on every other move. Tim’s hands clutch at his thighs, his hips, slide around to grip Tony’s ass. His eyes are wide and dark, his hair a mess. He looks fucked, fuckable, so fucking good here like this. Tony presses his mouth against the corner of Tim’s before licking his way to Tim’s ear and taking a nip. He moves his hips faster when Tim shudders against him, thrusts up, gasping Tony’s name, saying things like “Please” and “Hurry” and “Stop making me wait.”
But this is good, Tony’s in a groove here. He can feel his orgasm approaching, tension curling at the base of his spine, and he’s moving, moving, coming with Tim’s lips on his skin and Tim’s name in his mouth.
He doesn’t really have time to enjoy the heavy weight that’s slowly beginning to settle in his limbs because suddenly Tim’s pulling out, hooking his arms under Tony’s knees and turning them both so that Tony’s on his back, sprawled somewhat awkwardly against the cushions on the couch. He only has a moment to mourn the loss before Tim back in, smooth and sure, and now Tim’s the one in control and out of control and Tony will very happily give up control if it means he gets Tim like this, fucking him hard and desperate on Tony’s couch.
He feels loose and happy, moves his legs until they’re hooked up and over Tim’s shoulders, savoring each jarring thrust until Tim groans his name and comes.
They end up in a heap on the couch, limbs tangled together, Tony’s legs wrapped around Tim’s hips until they start to cramp and he starts to feel chilly everywhere Tim isn’t touching him. Tim’s head is resting against his shoulder. Tony pokes him in the back of it, gently. “Come on, Timmy,” he says. “Let’s get cleaned up. We’ve still got a movie to watch.” He pauses, thinking. “How’d you know what to say anyway?”
Tim moves his head enough to look at him, chin pressed against Tony’s chest. “I have seen Goldfinger, Tony.” He’d sound annoyed, but the sleepy, just-had-sex look on his face belies any attempt at annoyance. “I’m not completely out of the loop.”
Tony smiles fondly at him, shifting forward for a kiss that’s practically chaste. “You’re full of surprises,” he says when the kiss ends. “Now come on.” He slaps Tim on the ass and gets an affronted “Hey!” for his troubles. “Goldfinger. James Bond. Pussy Galore.” He puts a foot down, grimacing when he hears a crunch. “And more popcorn.”
Curled on the couch in sweats with Tim, Sean Connery on the screen, popcorn bowl shared between them, Tony can’t think of a better way to spend his evening.
Movie Night
DiNozzo/McGee
NC-17
2173 words
Tim surprises Tony on movie night.
Many thanks to
ginnith who helped me work out some awkward bits. This originally started as a response to the "James Bond" prompt in the porn battle. It wasn't going where I wanted it to at the time and I ended up writing something else for the prompt. But I couldn't let this go. And, yes, it did turn out to be the longest and dirtiest thing I've ever finished.Tony comes out of the kitchen, popcorn bowl in hand. He’s been slowly filling in the gap in Tim’s education that is any sort of film knowledge and tonight he’s got Goldfinger lined up. He’s been looking forward to it all week.
Tim’s already on the couch, sock-covered feet propped on the coffee table next to two partially empty bottles of beer. He’s wearing jeans and his MIT sweater; he looks comfortable, like he belongs there on Tony’s couch. Tony likes that a lot.
“You,” he says, sitting next to him, “are in for a treat.” He settles the bowl on his lap and puts his feet up. Nudging Tim’s feet with his own bare ones, his mouth falls easily into his Sean Connery impression as he says, “Do you expect me to talk?”
Reaching for the remote, Tony’s floored when Tim says, “No, Mr. Bond, I expect you to die.”
Tony stares at him, sitting beside him so innocently on Tony’s couch, that he probably looks ridiculous gaping the way he is. He can’t help it. “Oh my God, McGee. You,” he flounders. “You—“
Tim rolls his eyes. “What, Tony?”
“You’ve been holding out on me!”
“Really? I thought I’d been putting out.”
And that’s it, Tony has to pounce.
He hears a thud when the popcorn bowl hits the floor, but after that all he notices is the surprised sort of noise Tim makes as Tony presses him back into the cushions. It doesn’t last long, though, turning into a groan as Tony’s mouth finds his. Tony takes advantage of Tim’s surprise to slip his tongue inside, sliding it wetly along Tim’s own until Tim’s gotten over the sudden attack and is kissing him back.
He loves doing this, loves going to work and coming home and having Tim with him at each part. Doesn’t matter if they’re working or hanging out or teasing or fucking, they’ve got a good thing going on.
Tim’s fingers sneak beneath Tony’s shirt, pulling the fabric up, giving him access to skin. They should go to the bedroom, they should really go to the bedroom—the couch isn’t big enough for both of them—but Tony doesn’t want to move, not when Tim’s squirming so happily beneath him, pliant with lust and already hard against Tony’s thigh.
There’s an uncomfortable moment as Tim tries to twist his legs beneath them because Tim’s spine does not bend that way, much as Tony thinks it should. “Tony, wait,” he says, breathless. And even though Tony can’t wait, doesn’t want to wait, Tim gets moved around until his thighs bracket Tony’s, their hips pressed tight together.
Tony groans at the pressure, the heat he can feel coming off of Tim. He jerks forward at the feel of Tim’s fingers edging beneath the waistband of his jeans and underwear. There’s not a lot of room, but there’s enough for Tim to run his hands downward until he’s cupping Tony’s ass, palms hot against Tony’s skin.
A little bit further and Tim’s fingers will be right where Tony likes them. Knowing exactly what he wants, he pulls his mouth away and gasps, “Fuck me.”
Tim’s fingers pause as he squints up at him. His cheeks are flushed and his mouth is swollen. Tony can see his pulse racing beneath his skin on his neck. “On the couch?”
“Are you arguing with me?”
“No,” Tim says, hands flexing briefly against Tony’s ass. “No, I just—“
“Then fuck me,” Tony says and presses his lips against that speeding pulse, follows it with tongue and teeth until he’s at Tim’s jaw where he stops and takes a moment to suck and nibble.
“Oh, God,” Tim groans, his hands clutching harder when Tony moves his hips, dragging their still covered erections against one another.
He likes the noise Tim makes when he does it, so he shifts his hips again, harder this time. Tim whimpers, slides his hands away from Tony’s ass and around to his front. “There’s not going to be any fucking if you keep that up,” Tim says, pushing against his chest. “Tony. Back up.”
Tony sits up until he’s kneeling between Tim’s thighs. He’s sorry to lose the contact, but he gets over it quickly enough when Tim’s hands go to work on the button of his jeans. Grabbing the hem of his shirt, Tony pulls it over his head in one quick motion.
Tony can feel Tim’s fingers stopping moving on his jeans and when he looks, Tim’s staring, pupils dilated, lips shiny and wet. Tony grins at him and leans back in to nip at his mouth once, twice. “Come on, McGee,” he growls. “I’m waiting.”
“Wouldn’t want to keep you waiting,” Tim says, eyes meeting Tony’s. There’s a tiny line of concentration between his brows as his hands tug at Tony’s jeans, freeing the button and pulling the zipper down. “You could give me a hand, you know.” He’d sound annoyed if he didn’t sound so turned on.
Tony smirks down at him. “Oh,” he says, moving his hand to cup Tim through his jeans. “Believe me, I know.” He likes the feel of Tim’s cock through his pants, the weighted heat of it against the palm of his hand dulled by layers of material. He squeezes once, making Tim squirm, before going to work at getting to skin.
Underneath layers of clothes, Tim’s skin is hot and smooth. He fits perfectly into Tony’s hand and Tony takes a moment just to hold him, to drool a little over the way Tim’s cock looks in his hand before Tim’s hips twitch and he growls, “Tony.”
Tony leans down far enough to kiss him, bending his back farther than is entirely comfortable. Tim’s hands land on his back, skidding across his shoulder blades, fingers digging in when Tony jerks him once, twice.
He whimpers when Tony pulls away to stand. “Tony, what—?”
“Hold your horses, McGee,” Tony says. He swats him on the knee. “And get rid of those clothes.” Taking a moment to adjust himself, Tony heads into his bedroom. Behind him, he can hear Tim mutter, “Now you want me to be patient?”
Once in his room, Tony goes to the nightstand and opens the top drawer, grabs the bottle of lube and a condom. He hesitates on his way by the bathroom before reaching in and grabbing a towel.
In the living room, Tim’s followed his instructions and is naked on the couch, stroking himself slowly as he waits. “Nice,” Tony says, voice appreciative. Tim flushes a little more, but doesn’t move other than the slow twist of his left hand as he pleasures himself. Tony just watches him for a minute and when Tim’s face turns curious, Tony holds up the bottle and shakes it before tossing it and the condom beside Tim on the couch. He drops the towel on the coffee table. “Forgot something,” he says.
Hooking his thumbs in his waistbands, Tony removes the rest of his clothing in one swift movement and stalks toward the couch—avoiding the worst of the spilled popcorn on the floor—before lowering himself over Tim, knees on either side of Tim’s thighs. Tim’s hands go to Tony’s hips, steadying him as Tony presses forward until their erections brush. There’s a hiss of air through teeth as Tony takes them both in hand and Tony’s not sure if that was him or Tim or both of them. But it doesn’t matter because finally, finally, they are both naked and he’s got Tim almost exactly where he wants him and who knew he could have things this good?
Tim’s mouth is sweet and lewd against his own, tongue slick and knowing. Sometimes it’s really hard to work with the guy, knowing he can kiss like this. During the day, Tony will find himself wanting to drag him to a corner somewhere just to find out if he’s remembering things correctly.
Tim pulls his mouth away, gasping. “I thought you wanted me to fuck you?”
Nipping at his jaw, Tony releases them to reach for the lube. He leans back and pops it open. “Give me your hand.”
When Tim holds out his left hand, it trembles slightly. Tony pours some onto his outstretched fingers and leans over, setting the bottle on the floor, before taking Tim’s hand and squeezing, sliding their fingers together, reveling in the feeling of skin against lube-slicked skin. “You good?” he asks, catching Tim’s eye.
Instead of answering, Tim’s other hand sneaks up to Tony’s neck and suddenly Tony’s being pulled forward and down to Tim’s waiting mouth. Oh yeah, Tim’s good. Tim’s more than good.
The kiss is full of teeth and tongue and Tony doesn’t even notice when Tim lets go of his hand and then Tim’s fingers are there, right there, sliding into Tony so sweetly he can’t help but moan into Tim’s mouth.
Tony clutches at Tim, at his shoulders, his arms, his side; he can’t keep his hands still and Tim can’t keep his fingers still and this is what Tony needs, it’s what Tony wants, Tim’s fingers in him and on him. Tomorrow he’ll feel all of this as he sits at his desk, know that there are bruises the shape of Tim’s fingertips on his skin.
Sliding his hand down Tim’s forearm, he stops when he gets to his wrist, holding him hard enough to get his attention and stop him from moving. “Enough,” he says and he fumbles on the couch for the condom, reaches for the lube. He makes short work of slicking Tim up and sliding the condom down; he’s too ready to wait any longer and, from the look on Tim’s face, Tim is, too.
Kneeling up, Tony reaches between them until he’s got Tim’s cock positioned where he wants it and they both groan as he slides back down, slowly and smoothly. Once he’s got Tim fully inside him, pressed as close as they can get in this position, Tony tenses his thighs and begins to move.
He starts slowly at first, enjoying the drag and pull of Tim’s cock inside him and the way he can feel every inch. If he tilts his hips just so, he hits his prostate on every other move. Tim’s hands clutch at his thighs, his hips, slide around to grip Tony’s ass. His eyes are wide and dark, his hair a mess. He looks fucked, fuckable, so fucking good here like this. Tony presses his mouth against the corner of Tim’s before licking his way to Tim’s ear and taking a nip. He moves his hips faster when Tim shudders against him, thrusts up, gasping Tony’s name, saying things like “Please” and “Hurry” and “Stop making me wait.”
But this is good, Tony’s in a groove here. He can feel his orgasm approaching, tension curling at the base of his spine, and he’s moving, moving, coming with Tim’s lips on his skin and Tim’s name in his mouth.
He doesn’t really have time to enjoy the heavy weight that’s slowly beginning to settle in his limbs because suddenly Tim’s pulling out, hooking his arms under Tony’s knees and turning them both so that Tony’s on his back, sprawled somewhat awkwardly against the cushions on the couch. He only has a moment to mourn the loss before Tim back in, smooth and sure, and now Tim’s the one in control and out of control and Tony will very happily give up control if it means he gets Tim like this, fucking him hard and desperate on Tony’s couch.
He feels loose and happy, moves his legs until they’re hooked up and over Tim’s shoulders, savoring each jarring thrust until Tim groans his name and comes.
They end up in a heap on the couch, limbs tangled together, Tony’s legs wrapped around Tim’s hips until they start to cramp and he starts to feel chilly everywhere Tim isn’t touching him. Tim’s head is resting against his shoulder. Tony pokes him in the back of it, gently. “Come on, Timmy,” he says. “Let’s get cleaned up. We’ve still got a movie to watch.” He pauses, thinking. “How’d you know what to say anyway?”
Tim moves his head enough to look at him, chin pressed against Tony’s chest. “I have seen Goldfinger, Tony.” He’d sound annoyed, but the sleepy, just-had-sex look on his face belies any attempt at annoyance. “I’m not completely out of the loop.”
Tony smiles fondly at him, shifting forward for a kiss that’s practically chaste. “You’re full of surprises,” he says when the kiss ends. “Now come on.” He slaps Tim on the ass and gets an affronted “Hey!” for his troubles. “Goldfinger. James Bond. Pussy Galore.” He puts a foot down, grimacing when he hears a crunch. “And more popcorn.”
Curled on the couch in sweats with Tim, Sean Connery on the screen, popcorn bowl shared between them, Tony can’t think of a better way to spend his evening.
