Seize Me

Written for the gibbs_tonyathon. My prompts were:

Prompt #1
Empty Planet

Prompt #2
Trooping tumultuous, filling the midnight late, bending me powerless,
Entering my lonesome slumber-chamber--Why have you seiz'd me?
~ Proud Music Of The Storm, Walt Whitman


Tony looked up and wasn't entirely surprised to find his lover looking at him in that tone of voice. He grinned a little, going for the cute, smack me anyway we both know you don't mean it way he'd developed about ten minutes after meeting Gibbs for the first time. Right now Tony had to hold the look for a few seconds longer than he would have guessed, before Jethro's stern expression of disbelief broke into an amused smile.

Jethro laughed. "Are you kidding?"

Tony shrugged. "Hey, I like a little variety. Thought this was worth a shot." He handed over the book of poetry as Jethro reached for it, waited as he read the cover then glanced again at the page Tony had been holding the book open to. He watched as his lover read a few lines, eyes scanning back and forth quickly, absorbing information as concisely and efficiently as he did with any report at work.

It was on the tip of his tongue to say that it shouldn't be read like that -- some things were meant to be savoured, treasured, one word and one phrase at a time slipping over a person's tongue and into the air.

He wasn't sure if that would just make Jethro laugh again -- then it didn't matter because he saw the moment when his lover got it. Jethro's eyes stopped moving, then they tracked back up the page and began scanning -- slowly, carefully. Tony hid a smile.

It did surprise him a little when Jethro stopped -- obviously only part-way through -- and looked up, handing the book back. Tony took it, trying to find some clue in Jethro's expression if this meant his idea was a good one, or it was better tossed and never mentioned again.

Jethro gave half a shrug. "It's interesting." His voice didn't give much away, which meant he hadn't really gotten the poem the way Tony meant him to.

"Interesting?" Tony looked at the book, at the poem Jethro had been reading to make sure it had been the right one, that Tony hadn't accidently put his thumb on the wrong page. But no, it was the right page, the right poem. He read over the first few lines again -- despite knowing the words almost by heart from long summers as a boy reading in secret and longing for things he'd only thought he understood.

Tony looked back up. "Just interesting, huh?" It sounded like his idea was going to be one for the never again pile. "Well, it isn't everyone's thing," he said easily, closing the book. He had to admit he was a little disappointed, then told himself it was no big deal.

"I'm not really a romance and roses kind of guy," Jethro said, his tone indicating that he knew Tony knew that.

Tony pushed a easy grin onto his face, setting aside the volume of poetry as well as his intentions for a long, slow evening. "Hey, you just laughed when I asked you if I could 'clean your gun'." He waggled his eyebrows and leered at Jethro's crotch, repeating the not-so-subtle allusion he'd made when he'd first used the line on his lover.

"You keep saying it that way and I will let you clean all my guns, pistols, and rifle."

"Gee; you don't like it fancy, you don't like it crude. What kind of guy are you?" Tony mock-complained, smiling as Jethro stepped closer.

Jethro placed his hands on Tony's face, cupping his cheeks, and looked at him for just long enough that most of the humour died away completely. He leaned in just a little, almost kissing him -- then he said, "I like redheads." Jethro stepped away and Tony's mouth fell open.

"Thanks a lot!" he called out as Jethro headed for the door to the basement. He'd been on his way downstairs when Tony had caught him, asked him if he wanted to try something.

Tony stood there as Jethro disappeared from view. He wasn't upset or angry -- he and Gibbs had been together long enough that he knew a brush off from...well, what wasn't. He still waited a moment, watching as the door to the basement swung closed and the tread of footsteps on the stairs grew softer.

He headed into the living room and grabbed a DVD. Five minutes later there was popcorn, beer, and Carole Lombard and May Robson dancing across the screen.


Fifteen minutes after that Tony heard footsteps on the stairs, hitting lightly but fast. He kept watching the movie, not glancing over until Jethro was standing there beside him, not saying a word. Tony dropped his handful of popcorn back into the bowl and looked up.

"I didn't hear the phone," Tony said, not knowing what else than a case dropping in his lap would get Jethro away from his boat quite so soon. But if it were, Jethro would have gone straight for the door, hollering for Tony to get his ass in gear. He wouldn't be standing in the living room, staring down at Tony.

Jethro reached down and took the bowl of popcorn; Tony let him have it, started to scoot over to make room. The movie probably was one Jethro would enjoy, but why he would suddenly decide to run upstairs and join him -- when they'd owned it on DVD for a year, now?

But Jethro was putting the bowl on the coffee table, picking up the remote and stopping the movie, shutting off the TV.

"Um, okay... did I miss something?" Tony hesitated, then stood up at a gesture from his lover; he grew more confused as Jethro took his hand and led him away. Down the hall, into the bedroom, and there his lover stopped and turned around and kissed Tony they way he'd teased him by not doing, before.

Tony happily kissed him back, still confused as hell but willing to go with it. Maybe his lover's libido had just kicked in with a vengeance, he decided. He certainly wasn't going to complain. Although what he was doing down with his boat that would have... Tony told himself he didn't really want to know.

Jethro broke the kiss, moving back just enough to look Tony in the eyes. He said nothing, just gazed at him until Tony was about to demand to know what the hell was going on.

Then Jethro moved over to the table and picked up the book. He held it for a moment, fidgeting, turning the book over.

"Change your mind?" It didn't really make sense -- it was possible that some bit of what Jethro had read had come back to him and...had the effect of flipping the proverbial switch. But it didn't really work like that, not in Tony's experience. It was slow, building tension, letting the poetry wash over you little by little until everything hit at once. It was all about being read to, having your lover look at you lingeringly, hearing his voice soft and deep and wrapping itself around you like a hand on your cock.

When Tony brought poetry into the bedroom it took at least fifteen, twenty minutes of mood, atmosphere, and poetry read out loud -- with the occasional brief touches, gentle teasing kisses -- before anyone got near the point of fuck or die.

Maybe Jethro really had been standing too close to a power tool. But if that were the case, Tony was pretty sure on of them would be on the bed by now.

"I told you this wasn't really my thing," Jethro said, still holding the book. But he flipped it open, thumbing through the pages to the index.

"Yeah. Look, it's no--"

Jethro looked up at him, gaze hard and piercing. "You are."

Tony blinked. "Um, yeah?"

"What page was it... ah, here." His eyes flicked up again as if testing Tony's reaction, then he looked back down at the book. He hesitated and looked around the room.

Suddenly -- finally -- Tony realised what was going on. He went over and put his hand on his lover's arm, ready to pull the book away. "We don't have to -- if you think it's silly or stupid. It was just an idea."

But Jethro looked at him in that same piercing way -- the way he'd looked at Tony for years, every time Tony had tried to bullshit his way out of something, spin a tale or just flat out lie. Jethro had always seen right through him, and for so long he'd simply let Tony get away with it. It occurred to Tony that he didn't seem to get away with much anymore, hadn't at all since the day he'd moved in.

"I thought you were offering to read this to me," Jethro said.

"Either way," Tony began, because he hadn't really had plans beyond digging out his copy of the book.

That gaze didn't let up, and Tony felt pinned by it -- not in a bad way, because he hadn't been scared of Jethro Gibbs for a long, long time now.

Except during annual reviews. But that wasn't for months, and this was all about leading...somewhere.

"Do you want me to read this to you?" Jethro asked. His voice said he knew what the answer was, and if Tony answered wrong he'd get a head-smack and get asked again.

As if I have any reason to turn him down, Tony thought. He nodded. "Yeah, I would."

There was a small half-smile on Jethro's face and he nodded towards the bed. "Get comfortable, then."

Tony scooted backwards, yanking off his shirt and dropping it on the floor. His pants followed but he left his boxers on and he laid down on his back, leaning against the headboard. Jethro set the book down on the edge of the bed and stripped as well, following Tony's lead and stopping with just his underwear.

Then he settled at the foot of the bed, picked up the book, and began to read.

As Tony had expected, they didn't get through the entire poem, but he blamed that on the way Jethro kept watching Tony touch himself while he read. Tony thought they'd probably have another chance to try it, judging from the smile on his lover's face as they curled in around each other to fall asleep.