Snapshots #13: Mouth to Mouth
By Finding Hero
Summary: Sex has always been a part of Tim and Tony's relationship. It's the other stuff that gets added on. A series of snapshots (written out of order) shows the progression. In this snapshot, Tim finds out about Jeanne Benoit, making Tim doubt what he's doing with Tony. Spoilers through season 4.
"Oh," the moan reverberates right through Tony, tingling his skin into gooseflesh from where the soft sigh whispers against his earlobe all the way down to his cock where it's shoved up Tim's ass.
"Yeah," Tony whispers back, his fingers marking bruises into the pale skin of Tim's ass as he tries so hard not to come yet, tries to bring Tim with him if he accidentally-seriously-can't-exactly-help-it! and does anyway. "You like that?" he puts a little more power behind his thrusts as he yanks Tim down onto him harder.
Tim gasps, his mouth so close to Tony's now that Tony is pretty damn sure Tim's literally stealing his breath away. "Oh," another breathy moan, "you," Tim's words stutter even as his body smoothly responds, balancing both hands on Tony's shoulders just a moment to bounce up and down even more enthusiastically on Tony's lap before bringing his left hand back down to his own cock. "You know I do, Tony," Tim finally manages to stagger the admission in rough syllables between thrusts.
Every word from Probie's mouth lands right on Tony's lips. The soft, warm Tim-breeze gives Tony focus, gives him a direction to concentrate all his energy on so he doesn't come—don't come, don't come, not yet, not—yet, so he lasts just a little bit longer.
When their mouths inevitably touch, it's obvious, to Tony at least, that he doesn't mean to do it. Not exactly. It's just Tim's lips are so close, they've almost accidentally grazed Tony's half a dozen times already in the—hours? minutes?—he's been riding Tony's cock. In fact, Tony's almost certain he's even felt the baby-fine smoothness of Tim's lips near his own mouth a time or two by now, so what's the difference if there's one glancing blow that's a little more on purpose? Warning bells and whistles vaguely sound somewhere deep in the back of Tony's subconscious at his own reasoning, but then he leans in those bare centimeters anyway, and…
Tim's lips are soft and as sweet as his breath in Tony's face, and Tony can't even begin to regret tasting that brief, friendly flavor and that's when Tim opens his mouth widely and invites him inside with desperate kisses and even more desperate moans. Tony feels the reverberation of that sentiment running all the way through him.
Tim's grip tightens at Tony's shoulder, loosens briefly, only to go for Tony's neck, up into his hair to force their mouths to stay together—like Tony was going anywhere! DiNozzos may not always make the right choices, but they know a good thing when they find it.
And then Tim gasps into his mouth. His ass clenches, and his hips go wild. Tony pulls his partner down onto his cock as deep as he'll go, trying to make it good, trying to make it last for Tim, wanting to give as good to Tim as Tim gives to him.
"Oh!" Tim moans louder, pitch higher like it always soars when he's coming. "Tony!" he gasps and his lips go lax as his body tenses with orgasm. He milks his cock for all its worth as he finishes the ride, then he rests his hot forehead against Tony's neck, his warm, wet mouth hitting Tony's collarbone.
"Hmm?" Tony somewhat patiently asks with a roll of his hips a moment or two later.
"Mmm," Tim cedes permission pushing right back down onto Tony right away even as he shudders with the intensity of the sensation.
And with Tim's come striping his stomach, Tony lets loose, hips kicking upward like a bronco under a careless rider. Not that Tim has ever been a careless rider, at least not in Tony's experience, just that there's something about fucking his ass that always makes Tony feel a little untamed. It's a completely different sensation from fucking a woman and not just because shoving your dick up another guy's ass is nothing like pushing into a warm, wet pussy. No, it's different because Tony never has to be careful with Tim. He never has to worry whether Tim likes it or if he has uncomfortable emotions that Tony doesn't want to think about because, first and foremost, Tim always and usually very vocally tells Tony what works for him and what seriously doesn't, and second, their relationship is the same now as it was four years ago when they started this sex thing between them—teammates and even friends. Granted they weren't officially teammates that first time Tim had bent over the back of Tony's well-worn leather sofa and looked over his shoulder with that sex-grin that he has that's just way more devilish than Tony would have given him credit for had he not seen it firsthand. Still, Tim'd worked with the team on so many cases by then, he was already an unofficial member of MCRT anyway.
"Mmm," Tim hums again, trailing his lips along Tony's neck up to his ear. "You give me such good dick, Tony."
And fuck that's exactly what Tony was waiting for even though he didn't know it. He grabs onto Tim tighter, pulls his partner right into him and onto him, buries his face into Tim's neck as he completely lets loose and comes. The release is acute and so concentrated it's as if every muscle of Tony's body gets punch drunk all at once, and he slowly leans back on the covers, taking Tim with him.
He only honestly realizes he passes out because the next thing he knows, Tim is across the room with a pair of boxers covering his ass and the condom's already gone, tied off and thrown away in the garbage beside Tony's bed.
They never used to fuck in beds. At first it was only Tony's living room—the couch, or the floor, or against the wall. Then they made it to Tim's place and both their kitchens and bathrooms became fair game, but they'd only started invading the bedrooms earlier this year. It was almost as if there had been some sort of taboo forbidding them from the act in that intimate space, though in this moment, Tony can't for the life of him imagine what that might have been. Similarly, Tony's wondering why they've never kissed until now. Was it something Tim hadn't wanted or was the act off limits by Tony's own decree?
Obviously, whoever's decision it had been, it was a stupid one. Surely Tim could see that now if he couldn't before, couldn't he? But there's a little whisper of tension in the line of Tim's shoulders that's never before been present after they did this thing together.
"Hey," Tony sits up as he says.
Tim turns towards him instantly, brows lifting as he twists at the waist. "Hey," he echoes, leaning back against the dresser. There's something guarded in his expression that wasn't there when he showed up at Tony's apartment an hour ago, and it twists Tony's gut to see this stiffness in Tim's posture.
"I wasn't," Tim licks his lips and looks down to his hands. Tony realizes by the way he's twisting his fingers that Tim's holding something. "I wasn't trying to pry," Tim begins haltingly, guiltily. "I just, I noticed it was the same number as some other calls you've been getting all month, and she called twice in a row, and I thought maybe—" he trails off awkwardly, and Tony hones his focus onto his partner because whatever the hell he's talking about, Tim's totally and uncharacteristically stretching some version of the truth with his series of events.
Tony squints when Tim won't quite meet his eye. "Who called?" he asks because it's a starting place, though if Tony weren't so curious to know what the hell Tim was talking about, he'd probably tease him the lie out of him.
Tim holds up the object in his hands, and Tony realizes it's the burn phone—Tony's burn phone. More specifically, it's Tony DiNardo's burn phone. Tony winces even before Tim reveals, "Your girlfriend, apparently." The words have that pissy undertone that Tim sometimes gets even as the phrase is darkly shaded by his multicolored guilt. Tim shakes his head, and Tony watches in fascination as his fists clench and unclench, and it's weird because Tony knows precisely which muscle spasms seem to be due to Tim's guilt and which to apparent anger for being kept out of the loop of Tony's personal life. Not that Tony had ever really invited Tim into his personal life exactly.
"I'm sorry," Tim shakes his head and cringes. "I know it's your business, and I don't have the right to ask, but I just," Tim ducks his chin. "I wouldn't have even said anything except…" Tim trails off waving a hand in Tony's direction. It takes Tony less than a second to realize Tim's gesture is inclusive of everything they just did—have been doing together—and isn't directed to Tony himself. "It doesn't feel right to do this if you have somebody," Tim lifts his eyes but not his face, finishing with that plaintive tone that can make Tony wince with irritation or grin with commiseration at turns.
"Her name is Jeanne Benoit," the words spill from Tony's mouth regardless of Jenny's dire warnings of the secrecy of this undercover operation. "She's the only child of an international arms dealer Director Shepard's been after for twelve years, and she thinks I'm a film theory professor at Strayer."
Tim's chin shoots up, and his eyes reveal a mixture of uncertainty and acute interest. "I didn't say much to her on the phone, but from what she said, it really sounded like she was your girlfr—"
"She's an assignment!" Tony interrupts, suddenly itching with confusion and guilt at both the very fact of it and Tim's discovery of it all.
Tim blinks, turns his whole body away from Tony but not before Tony spies disappointment and a flash of anger cross Probie's features. "This woman cares about you, Tony," Tim quietly accuses him in that closed and absolute way he can get about him even when he doesn't know the first thing about a situation.
"I care about her!" Tony blurts back because he does. Really. The excitation gets Tim to twist back around to face him, which allows Tony's guts to uncoil by a pinch.
Tim purses his lips as he studies Tony's face. "If she's an assignment…" he begins anew only to trail off, unsure, but at least that awful concentrated disapproval has vanished from his face.
Tony pulls his legs up towards his chest and rests his elbows on his knees. "It was my job to keep pursuing her," he bites his lip but can't help the confession from passing them. "But I liked getting to know her. I liked having that," he squints and tilts his head consideringly, "that focus on one person," he finally decides on a moment later.
"You're still using her, Tony," Tim's voice is gentler this time but ultimately no less accusatory.
Tony shakes his head, jumping up from his place atop the covers. "No, no, no" he moves to stand in front of Tim. "I mean, okay, yes," he concedes, "technically, and I could see why you," he waves his arms in negation in the ever decreasing space between them, "but that's not really," Tony winces. "I really do like her. I think I might even—" Tony cuts himself off, trying to decide what's true and what's not before it makes its way out of his mouth. Before he can make any solid decisions on it, Tim takes over the conversation.
"Oh! Oh, wow! Oh, really?" and that familiar tragically sweet or maybe sweetly tragic look that seems unique to Tim flushes full over Probie's features at the Romeo and Juliet scenario Tony's barely had to help him build in his head. "So you want to," Tim flicks his wrists, hand over hand in a gesture that Tony has absolutely no clue what it's supposed to signify "with her," Tim looks him right in the eye, head on and wide open, "but then you can't even…" Tim lifts his brows and sighs in regret. "Wow, Tony. I'm sorry." He rests a warm hand on Tony's shoulder and squeezes.
Tony simply nods and leans into the touch. "She's special," Tony assures Tim, believing it himself evermore with every second.
Tim smiles at him again. "That's good. I'm glad, Tony. Even if the circumstances aren't ideal," his thumb skitters across Tony's naked shoulder, but then Tim glances behind Tony and back to the mussed bed. "If you have someone who's special to you, maybe we shouldn't—"
"No, no, no, no!" Tony immediately grabs at Tim's waist, flirts with the line of his boxers, knowing what a weak spot that can be for his partner, how agreeable that simple grip on his bare skin can often make him. "You're going to leave me high and dry now?"
"You have a girlfriend!" Tim returns incredulously, though his body leans forward into Tony's just a little as Tony keeps his grip sure.
"Yes, but we're not exclusive, and we haven't even had sex yet!"
"Really?" Tim tilts his chin to the right in query. Tony can almost see the Does not compute message repeating in his brain.
"Yes, really!" Tony returns indignantly. "I wasn't even going to since she's an assignment, but now I'm not sure anymore," Tony's mind skitters back to the past week and the way Jeanne had been getting less subtle with her assertions that she's ready for the next step in their relationship. "Don't leave me hangin' man!" Tony's phrasing quickly calls to his own mind a thousand favors begged from buddies in the past. The casual words are at odds with the intimacy of the way he and Tim are standing together—more closely than he's ever stood with any other man in his life—but the dichotomy seems to precisely fit with his relationship with Tim nonetheless.
Tim nods in quiet concession, and Tony has to bite his lip to keep from sighing with relief. Knowing that Tim's ready and willing to help Tony out when he needs him like this has helped Tony keep pushing on a number of times since that first afternoon in Tony's living room four years ago, but since Gibbs left, his relationship with Tim has been the only real anchor he's had. Oddly enough, as off balance as the two of them have been at work since Boss returned, they've never been more in sync between the sheets. And on the sofa. Against the front door. That one time in Tim's car though only because it was so hot to have sex in a Porsche. Atop the kitchen table—well, tables since Tim has one, too. On Tim's writing desk. Kitchen counter. Tim's desk chair. The floor, of course, because sometimes furniture is too far away.
"You're a good friend, Tim," Tony interrupts his own inner ramblings.
Tim ducks his head, that easy blush of his quickly splashing across his features like it does anytime Tim's caught off guard with a compliment. "Yeah, I mean, well," he mumbles, his hand spasming in an uncertain flutter between them. "You, too," he finishes softly, his eyes on his toes. "I should probably…" Tim jerks his chin towards the hallway as words fail him.
Tony nods in easy reassurance as Tim's gaze darts towards Tony's face and then around the room to find his clothes. He offers one last quick squeeze before letting McGee go.
Tony pulls on a pair of jeans while Probie gets dressed, and then they shuffle towards the front door of Tony's apartment together.
"Hey, thanks for coming over, man," Tony smacks McGee on the back in appreciation. "See you bright and early Monday."
Tim twists ever so slightly to glance at Tony just a step behind him and to hold his eye with that sex-glint all too apparent in his gaze. "Monday," he agrees, "Or sooner if you stop by my place before then," and Tony detects a little wiggle to Tim's walk as he issues the invitation, but Tony very manfully doesn't give into the easy temptation to look down and watch Probie walk away.
Tony lifts his brow, "Or if you stop by mine," he grins before adding pointedly, "again."
"You're the one who called and said it was a boring Saturday with nothing interesting going on," Tim points out with a single accusing finger cutting against Tony's shoulder as he halts his progress towards the door in order to face Tony completely.
"Yeah," Tony leans right into that pointy touch, "but you're the one who thought sex was the best way to chase away the boredom."
"Hmm," Tim nods, grin flirting with his lips, "I seem to remember how eagerly you agreed with me the second I walked through that door."
"You mean this door?" Tony presses forward, forces Tim to shuffle backward in order to maintain his balance, doesn't stop until he's got Probie pressed against the hard wood of his front door. Tim quickly relaxes that pointy finger to grab onto both Tony's shoulders.
And they don't actually do this, this post-sex sexiness with each other, but between the feel of Tim's body all warm and lax, willing and open against him and the grin widening ever farther across his cheeks, Tony has no idea why the hell not.
"Yeah," Tim whispers, and it's both a confirmation of Tony's words as well as vocal approval of his actions.
Tim's gaze flickers down to Tony's lips and back to his eyes, and Tony doesn't know if he's telegraphing his moves on purpose or not, but when Tim leans forward and kisses Tony's lips once more, Tony's totally ready for him. They don't kiss long—perhaps half a minute or so—before Tim rests their foreheads together and declares, "Got a date tonight."
"Oh, yeah?" Tony grins, pleased that McGee's finally getting into the groove with the whole dating scene after the catastrophe with Abby—four years ago—sheesh! "The brunette from that McGeeky convention?"
"Brunette, yes," Probie confirms, "but not the same one. We met at the dogpark. Jethro nearly ate her Chihuahua," McGee shrugs almost sheepishly, but there's not a hint of sorrow in his gaze.
"Sweet!" Tony leans in for one more quick, hard peck on the lips before backing away and letting Probie go. He twists the locks and pulls the door open for Tim as he conveys his own plans. "I've got a dinner date at Chez Ruidiate's with this hottie from that accounting firm we investigated two weeks ago."
Tim pauses at the announcement and for half a second, Tony thinks he's going to get another of Tim's disapproving frowns, but then Probie just tilts his head. "Oh, from the Lopez case?" McGee squints. "Not the mail girl in her third year of general studies?" His chin tucks inward. "She couldn't have been more than 21."
"Exactly!" Tony claps both hands on Probie's shoulders gleefully.
Tim rolls his eyes. "Have fun," he shakes his head like he can't imagine how Tony might manage any such thing on his date tonight.
"You, too, McGiggle," Tony nods as Tim offers a small wave and makes his way down the hall towards the elevator. This time, he does watch Tim's ass as he walks away. "See you tomorrow," he whispers once Probie's out of earshot.