AUTHOR: Ashleigh Anpilova
PAIRING: Leroy Jethro Gibbs/Donald 'Ducky' Mallard
PROMPT: 'Fire, whiskey and you'
WORD COUNT: 6,232
SUMMARY: Set after Good Cop, Bad Cop. Gibbs calls Ducky on a comment he made during the episode.
SPOILERS: If you haven't Season 7, then the story includes spoilers for one storyline. Otherwise, fairly major spoilers for Good Cop, Bad Cop and minor spoilers for The Inside Man.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters, nor am I making any money from them. I merely borrow them from time to time.
Ducky was just about to pour himself a glass of wine prior to taking the first mouthful of his supper when the front door bell rang. Sighing to himself, he dropped his napkin onto the table, pushed himself to his feet, winced slightly as his knee protested and, moving somewhat more slowly than he usually did, made his way to the front door.
Sometimes he wished he didn't have such a deeply engrained conscience that forbade him to simply ignore the bell; after all had it been anything important, the person outside could always have rung him. However, that wasn't Ducky; so instead he switched on the porch light, unbolted and unlocked the door and pulled it open, already prepared to hasten the departure of the person who stood on the other side.
"Jethro!" he exclaimed in surprise, as the light fell on his visitor; the one visitor whom he would not be hastening the departure of, and about the last person he'd have expected to see. "Is something the matter?" he asked. "A case?" And then realizing how silly that question was, Jethro would have called him, not arrived on his door step, added, "Are you ill?" Concern touched his voice and he gazed up at his friend, trying to read the handsome, weather-tanned face.
"No. No. And no," Jethro said, and smiled.
Ducky frowned for a second and then realized Jethro was answering his three questions; the three questions he hadn't given his friend a chance to answer. "I'm relieved," he said, smiling back. "And please do forgive my lack of manners, do come in." He moved back and let Jethro slip inside, before he shut and relocked and rebolted the front door. "So to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" Supper was momentarily forgotten as he gazed up at his closest friend; the man who was the most important person in the world to him.
"Ah, just came to see if you were all right," Jethro replied, pulling off his coat and tossing it over the banisters.
Ducky frowned. "And why should I not be?"
"DiNozzo said you mentioned your knee was giving you trouble."
Ducky blinked in surprised. Firstly that Anthony had not only paid attention to what he'd said and remembered it and had thought it worthy of mentioning to Jethro, but that Jethro had felt it worth driving all the way out to Reston to ask Ducky if he was all right. "You could have called," he said, realizing it sounded somewhat churlish. "Not that I have any objections to your company, not at all. It's just that . . ." He trailed off.
Jethro shrugged. "Could have done, but . . ." Now he trailed off. "So how are you? How is your leg?"
Ducky shrugged. "It's giving and has been giving me more trouble, more pain than it normally does. But," he hurried on at the look on Jethro's face, "it has also been far worse. I just need to be sensible for the next few days. Take the elevator more; try to sit down more than I often do. That kind of thing. I'm fine, Jethro," he said smiling. "Really. I will be," he added, as Jethro continued to stare down at him, concern evident on his face and in his eyes.
"Yes, my dear. Really."
Jethro went on as if Ducky hadn't spoken. "Because if you need to take some time off or get a temporary assistant while Palmer's at Med School, just say so and -"
Ducky put his hand on Jethro's arm. "Jethro, really. I assure you, I will be fine."
Jethro just continued to look at him. Then finally he gave a nod and said, "You want to stand here all night or you going to offer me a drink?"
Ducky shook his head, once more irritated with himself for his lack of manners. It was just that Jethro's appearance and his apparent reason for it had thrown him more than a little. "I can do better than that," he said, now taking Jethro's arm and leading him towards the dining room. "I can offer you supper. I'm assuming given the relative earliness of the evening that you have not eaten? And as always I've made far more than one person could eat. You'd have thought that I'd have been used to -" He stopped speaking abruptly.
"Cooking for one?" Jethro said softly.
Ducky sighed. "Yes."
Jethro stopped walking and turned to Ducky and to Ducky's surprise, pulled him into a loose embrace. "Ah, Duck. Takes time," he said, his lips close to Ducky's ear.
Although the move had surprised him, Ducky nonetheless was more than happy to be in Jethro's arms; he slipped his own around Jethro and leaned against him a little for a moment. "Do I take it that is a 'yes'?" he asked, after a moment or two of just being held by Jethro.
"Yeah, you can. Supper'd be great. Thanks, Duck." Jethro let his arms fall from around Ducky and they went into the dining room. "Oh, hell," he said, spotting the table. "Sorry, Duck. You should have said."
Ducky shook his head. "It's not a problem, Jethro. I'll just pop it back into the oven for a minute or two whilst I set a place for you and get you some food. I'll -"
"Sit down and pour yourself a glass of wine. I reckon even I can get myself a napkin and stuff and some food."
"But, Jethro, I -"
"Sit down, Ducky." Jethro spoke firmly, as he guided Ducky to his chair and 'encouraged' him to sit down. "No," he said, as Ducky opened his mouth. "If you want to do something," he added, crossing to the sideboard, pulling out a place mat, a coaster, a napkin, a fork and a wine glass and bringing them back to the table, "you can pour me a glass of wine. Otherwise, just sit there and I'll be back in a few minutes." And before Ducky could object he swept Ducky's plate up and left the room.
Deciding it was better not to argue, besides even Jethro could dish himself up a helping of the homemade fish pie, Ducky poured two glasses of red wine and settled back into his seat to wait. He sipped his wine and mused as to what had really brought Jethro to his house that night. As much as it touched him that his friend might be concerned for his health, something (maybe just the longevity of their relationship) told him Jethro hadn't been completely honest with him concerning the reason for his appearance.
As he took another sip of his wine, he wondered if it had anything to do with Ziva; or even with his short-term 'kidnapping' of her. If Anthony had mentioned Ducky's painful knee to Jethro, maybe he'd also mentioned how Ducky had taken Ziva away from her escort, against Vance's 'wishes' and shut Ziva and himself in Autopsy leaving Anthony outside.
Some people, maybe Anthony himself, may have thought Ducky had overstepped the mark by doing what he'd done, but he stood by his actions and would do it again, should he have to. Someone had to try to get through to Ziva, and from what he'd seen Vance hasn't been doing a very good job of it, and as for Jethro himself . . . Well, he was still a little surprised that Jethro had left Ziva to Vance rather than -
"There you are, nice and hot again," Jethro said, putting Ducky's supper in front of him, before putting his own plate down and sitting opposite Ducky. Before he tried the food, Jethro grabbed his glass of wine and took a swallow. "That's good," he said. "So's this," he said, a moment later, after he'd taken his first mouthful of the piping hot food. "Don't know where you find the time to cook like this each night."
"Oh, I don’t," Ducky said, picking up his own fork and taking a careful mouthful of the fish pie. "I simply make a large batch and freeze it in suitable sized portions. Next time, I really will have to ensure the portions are smaller and suitable for just me."
Jethro put another fork load into his mouth and spoke around it. "Guess so. But what happens when people drop by?"
Ducky looked at him. "Ah, Jethro, I assure you that not many people simply 'drop by'. Reston is not exactly on anyone's route home. Besides -"
"Most people have the good manners to call first?" Jethro asked, looking at Ducky.
Ducky found himself flushing very slightly, because it was true, he wasn't a great fan of people just dropping by. But that didn't apply to Jethro; he would have no objection to Jethro dropping by any time of the day or night. At that thought he felt his cheeks flush even more. Grabbing his wine glass he took a swallow and hastened to answer Jethro's question. "Not at all, Jethro. I assure you that you are more than welcome to simply arrive. I would have thought that after all the years we have been . . ." He trailed off as he noticed the twinkle in Jethro's eyes and the indulgent smile that touched Jethro's lips. "Oh," he said, a little embarrassed now. "You are teasing me." He took another forkful of his meal.
Jethro shrugged. "Nah. Well, maybe just a bit." He smiled at Ducky.
Ducky returned the smile and took another sip of wine. "Jethro?"
Ducky licked his lips. "Did Anthony say anything else to you?" Although he'd tried for nonchalance, he winced slightly as he realized how clumsy his tone was; rather like the attempt he had made to draw Ziva out in the squad room when Gibbs had taken the boys off to the crime scene.
Jethro paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. "You mean about you kidnapping Ziva from under his nose?" He put the fork into his mouth.
Again, Ducky glanced away from the steady dark gaze that watched him and looked down at his plate. After fiddling with his fork and the fish pie, he nodded. "I see that he did. Oh, Jethro I . . ."
Ducky sighed. "What I did may have technically and strictly speaking have been wrong and if it has caused you or indeed Anthony any trouble, then I apologize. However, I am afraid that I cannot and will not apologize for the event itself." Now he looked at Jethro, who was continuing to eat while watching Ducky. "Someone had to try to get through to Ziva, and I'm afraid I did not have any faith in whatever method Vance was employing. And whilst I am sure you had your reasons for not intervening, for not being the one to talk to Ziva yourself, I - Someone had to, Jethro. And I truly felt I was the person whom should at least try, given my position. Besides, I had the odd weapon to hand, and whilst I did not entirely succeed I believe I did nothing to hinder." He stopped speaking and took another swallow of wine.
Ducky nodded. "Yes."
"Good. Because if you think I'm angry with you and that's why I've really come here, then I'm not. Vance doesn't know, he doesn't need to and DiNozzo, well, reckon he was a bit embarrassed by the fact that you 'overpowered' him."
"Jethro! I do not know quite what Anthony told you, but I merely closed and locked the door on him."
Jethro smiled. "Yeah, know that. But even so. Reckon it took DiNozzo by surprise. For what it's worth, Duck, I reckon you did help; in fact I'm sure of it. You're right. I know I said she'd talk in her own time, but she wasn't given that luxury in the end and she needed to tell us, and I reckon your intervention helped her be ready to do so."
Ducky breathed a sigh of relief, and ate a little more of his supper. For the next few minutes they fell into silence as both men cleared their plates and Jethro poured a little more wine into their glasses.
"That was great, Duck. Really was."
"Better than cold pizza?" Ducky inquired with a smile.
Jethro laughed. "Just a bit."
"Well," Ducky said, sitting back in his chair, "you are more than welcome to join me for supper any time."
Ducky blinked and looked at his friend. "Jethro?"
But Jethro didn't answer him. Instead, he pushed back his chair and picked up his empty plate and Ducky's. "No," he said, as Ducky was about to stand up. "I'll take them out to the kitchen and put them in hot water. You can go and sit down more comfortably."
"But, Jethro, you are my . . ." He trailed off under Jethro's firm stare. "Very well," he said, after all it was only two plates and cutlery. "I shall do that thing. Would you like me to take the bottle of wine to the sitting room? Or would you prefer to move onto whiskey? Always assuming," he hurried on, "that you intend to stay for a while."
Jethro looked at him. "Well, I hope to stay for a while," he said, and leaving Ducky somewhat puzzled by the choice of words, he strode out of the room, with Ducky staring after him.
After a second or two, Ducky decided just to take the half-full glasses of wine into the sitting room and leave the bottle where it was. Knowing Jethro as he did, he was certain his friend would prefer to switch to whiskey.
He had lit the fire when he'd first got home, pulled the curtains and switched the wall and table lamps on and the room felt pleasantly warm. The evenings were certainly drawing in and becoming fairly chilly as autumn got a solid grip. He poked the fire a little to give an extra burst of heat and stood in front of it enjoying gazing at the flames as they leaped a little and crackled. As much as he enjoyed a real fire, he didn't light it every night as it did take more energy than simply relying on the central heating.
"That feels good," Jethro said, as he arrived by Ducky's side.
Ducky turned and looked up at him. "I admit it is very pleasant and once I have laid it and lit it and am sitting here enjoying the colors and scent and warmth, I decide it is worth it. Although sometimes in the morning when I have to clean it out, I'm not quite so sure."
Jethro smiled. "Yeah. Mom used to say that. That mine?" he nodded at one of the glassed Ducky had stood on the mantelpiece. Ducky nodded and wasn't that surprised to see Jethro grab it and empty what remained.
"Another glass or would you prefer a whiskey?" Ducky asked.
"Whiskey'd be good. Want me to get it?"
Ducky gave a half shrug and decided that for whatever reason, Jethro had clearly decided to 'take charge' for the evening. "Certainly," he said. "And you may pour one for me too. I think I've had enough wine for tonight." There was about quarter of a glass left in his glass, but somehow the idea of whiskey, Jethro, and the fire sounded far better than wine, Jethro, and the fire.
Jethro poured two healthy measure into Ducky's heavy whiskey glasses and brought them back to where Ducky now sat at the end of the sofa opposite the fireplace. "Cheers," Jethro said, handing Ducky one of the glasses and sitting down on the sofa as well.
"Your good health," Ducky replied, sipping the smooth amber liquid. "And now," he said, after a moment or two of comfortable silence. "why do you not tell me your real reason for coming here tonight?" He hid a smile at the look of surprise that raced across Jethro's face. Although it appeared and vanished at such a high speed that had Ducky not known Jethro so well, and had he not been watching him intently as he'd spoken, he wouldn't have seen it.
"Told you, Duck. Came to see if you were all right."
Ducky continued to watch Jethro. "Very well, I will accept that asking after my well being was part of the reason you came here. However, Jethro, it was not the only reason, was it?" He spoke quietly as he kept eye contact with his friend. He didn't expect Jethro to answer a direct question with a lie, but nonetheless watching Jethro made him happy.
"You know, Duck, sometimes I reckon you getting that damn Forensic Psychology degree wasn't a good thing."
Ducky laughed. "Ah, my dear Jethro. I hate to be the one to tell you, but Forensic Psychology degree or not, I always know when you are being, shall we say a tad economical with the truth. Now, do tell me what else is on your mind; what else brought you here tonight. Is it Ziva?"
Jethro shook his head. "No. I know the whole team have been intensely focused on her for the last few weeks, but no, for once it isn't her."
Ducky realized he wasn't sure if he was surprised or not by Jethro's words. "Well, what is it, then?" he asked, when it became clear Jethro was not immediately going to tell him. And then something hit him. "Jethro?" He put his hand on Jethro's arm. "You assured me, when you first arrived, that you were not unwell. Are you here on someone else's bidding?" he swallowed. "Is there something that maybe . . . Has the director . . . ?"
Jethro shook his head and covered Ducky's hand with his own. "No. And no."
"Well, then?" Ducky repeated softly.
"It's something you said."
Ducky smiled. "Ah, Jethro, I say a lot of things. An awful lot of things. Indeed, even Anthony had to -"
Ducky blinked at the 'office tone' and put his head on one side. "Jethro?"
"You told me there are other kinds of love than tough love." Jethro feel silent and looked at Ducky.
Ducky nodded as he never once took his gaze away from Jethro. "Yes, I did. And there are."
He watched as Jethro glanced away, licked his lips, took another swallow of whiskey, put his glass down on the coffee table and then looked back at him. "Prove it then," he said, his voice husky and low.
Ducky blinked; he couldn't have heard what he thought he'd heard. "I'm sorry?" he said. "What did you say?"
Jethro swallowed and flashed Ducky his 'Ducky glare'. "I said," he now half growled the words, "prove it. Show me, Duck. Prove to me there are other kinds of love." When Ducky neither moved nor spoke, Jethro continued, he seemed almost fired up. "Come on, Duck. I'm asking you to act on your desires. To do what you've wanted to do since we met." Now Jethro moved slightly along the sofa, not getting too close to Ducky, but within easy touching distance.
Ducky opened his mouth and closed it again, frantically searching for something to say. "Jethro, I -"
"Or were they just words?" Jethro asked, now gently brushing Ducky's hair off his forehead.
Ducky shook his head and nearly moaned aloud as Jethro's hand slipped under his hair and rested on his scalp. "No," he said, swallowing around the lump that was beginning for form in his throat. "No. Of course not."
Now Jethro leaned a little nearer. "Then prove it to me, Duck. Because, you know what? It's the only kind I reckon I know."
His hand moved of its own volition, Ducky would swear to that under oath, and cupped Jethro's face. Under his palm he felt the first touches of faint stubble. "Jethro, you have known other kinds of love," he said softly. He deliberately chose not to expand; not wishing to mention the names he knew still hurt his friend.
"Far too long ago, Duck," Jethro murmured. "So long ago it's like a dream."
"You've known what it's like to care, to love even, as a friend, have you not?" Still Ducky couldn’t bring himself to quite believe he understood Jethro correctly.
Jethro shook his head, his chin rasping very slightly under Ducky's hand, which still cupped Jethro's face. "Not that same. Not what I meant." He swallowed and slipped the hand that had begun to caress Ducky's scalp further around Ducky's head. "Not what you meant either, was it, Duck?"
"I . . ." Ducky trailed off. What had he meant when he'd said the words? He swallowed and unconsciously licked his lips. His hearing was still extremely good and he heard the faintest of soft moans coming from Jethro. Ducky held Jethro's gaze and this time deliberately licked his lips again.
"Please, Duck," Jethro murmured, the words a half-moan. "Show me. Prove there's more than just tough love."
It was the 'please' that did it; a word that like 'sorry', Leroy Jethro Gibbs did not use often. Hoping the despite every sign Jethro had given him, he hadn't somehow completely misread the situation, hadn't finally fallen guilty of superimposing his own desires and wants onto his friend, Ducky leaned forward, moved his hand from where it cupped Jethro's cheek and chin just a little, and brushed his lips over Jethro's.
The first kiss, if indeed that is what it could be called, was brief, little more than Ducky's lips passing over Jethro's, but it had a profound affect on Ducky, both emotionally and physically. He sat back a little and looked at Jethro, really studying him, watching him, using all their years as friends to read him. Jethro had a look on his face that Ducky had never seen before, not directed at him nor at anyone else. "Is that what you had in mind?" Ducky asked quietly, now beginning to caress Jethro's cheek with his fingertip.
Jethro nodded. "Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah. But reckon I need some more proof," he added, now beginning his own caress of Ducky's scalp.
"Do you now?" Ducky smiled and every hint of tension that he now realized he'd been feeling when he dared to do what he'd been wanting to do from the moment he'd set eyes on Jethro, fled.
"Oh, yeah. Lots more."
Ducky smiled. "In that case . . ." And with that he leaned forward and again put his mouth on Jethro's. This time the kiss was not brief; this time it was not just a brush of lips over lips. With his mouth still on Jethro's Ducky shifted slightly, moving across the gap that still separated them, until he could put his arms around Jethro and then using his body weight he pressed against Jethro, gently pushing him back against the sofa until Jethro was partly prone and Ducky was half lying on him, half sitting.
He flicked his tongue over Jethro's lips, tracing the outline of them with the tip, until Jethro parted his lips and Ducky slipped his tongue inside. He heard Jethro moan as Ducky's tongue began to flirt with the inside of Jethro's warm, moist, mouth that tasted of malt whiskey and the sawdust scent that, even though Jethro had yet to begin a new boat, still followed him around.
As he kissed Jethro, Ducky let the fingers of one hand stroke the nape of Jethro's neck, eliciting more light moans and he could feel Jethro's hard body beneath his moving somewhat. In turn one of Jethro's hands was still in Ducky's hair, the other was beneath his jacket, moving in fairly ragged circles over Ducky's back, as Jethro met and returned the passion of the kiss Ducky had initiated.
Jethro could kiss; Jethro could kiss very well; Jethro could kiss extremely well. Not that Ducky had ever doubted it - the women who has passed through his life and bed during the years Ducky had known him, had to have some reason for doing so. Ducky had never kissed anyone, had never been kissed by anyone, like Jethro, and he knew that it had totally spoiled him for anyone else. Not that there had been anyone else for more years than Ducky really cared to remember; not since he finally admitted to himself he was deeply in love with and loved his closest friend.
Pausing only long enough to break the kiss in order to suck in air, while still continuing to caress Jethro's neck and cheek, Ducky somewhat wickedly let his gaze skitter down Jethro's body. What he saw not only pleased him, it made him feel more than a little smug. Jethro had parted his legs almost as much as it was possible to do given the relative lack of space, and his arousal was more than obvious. Ducky swallowed hard as he saw the evidence of what the kiss had done to Jethro.
Oxygen taken in, he once again put his mouth back on Jethro's and continued to kiss him with more passion and love than he'd ever kissed anyone with. This time he invited, encouraged, urged Jethro's tongue to slip into his mouth.
As he felt Jethro's tongue moving around his mouth, exploring, tasting, caressing, and Jethro continued to run his fingers over his scalp and back, Ducky moved the hand not stroking Jethro's neck, down Jethro's body.
He spent a few moments letting his fingers dip into the hollow of Jethro's throat, before letting his hand continue its journey. Without asking, without seeking permission, fingers experienced in undressing people began to undo the buttons on Jethro's shirt, before sliding his hand over Jethro's chest and playing with the hardened nipples through the material of Jethro's undershirt.
"Duck!" Jethro gasped, breaking the kiss and breathing heavily.
Ducky paused, pushed himself up a little, using Jethro's shoulder to help him and looked down into the almost black eyes, seeing the reddened chin, the flushed cheeks, the hint of perspiration, and the kiss swollen lips. "Yes, my dearest Jethro?" he murmured, continuing to tweak Jethro's nipples through the cotton. "Is this not what you wanted?" he kept his voice low, sensual.
"God, no. Yes. No. Whatever, Duck. Just don't stop." Even through his obvious desire, Ducky could hear the faint touch of exasperation as Jethro struggled to answer the way Ducky had phrased his question.
However, despite the contradictory nature of Jethro's reply, his meaning left Ducky in no doubt. "Oh, I won't," he murmured, once again returning to kissing Jethro and stroking his chest.
After a moment or two longer of caressing Jethro through his undershirt, Ducky gave fleeting consideration to slipping his hand beneath it and touching Jethro's naked skin. But his desire, his now over-whelming need, his desperation, to touch Jethro somewhere else stopped him. Moving quickly over Jethro's not totally flat or hard stomach, Ducky paused for a micro-second, before deliberately and with great determination moving his hand and putting it over Jethro's arousal. For him it was daring, for him it was unique; he'd never before moved from kissing someone to getting so intimate with them on the first 'date', indeed he rarely kissed beyond the chaste goodnight, on a first date.
But this wasn't a first date; this was a hundredth or whatever. He and Jethro had known one another for so long, were already intimate beyond the level Ducky had enjoyed with some of his lovers, thus such personally set 'rules' did not apply.
As his hand made contact with Jethro's arousal and closed around the hardness, as he began to trace the outline, Jethro gasped into the kiss, brought his teeth down so hard on Ducky's bottom lip he grazed it and Ducky tasted blood, and his entire lower body bucked and pushed upwards into Ducky's hand.
Encouraged by Jethro's reaction, buoyed on by how much his friend was clearly enjoying what he was doing, Ducky began to move his hand in swift strokes over Jethro. Suddenly to his surprise, Jethro's gun and tool calloused hand closed around him. "Stop," he breathed, gasping for breath.
Ducky obeyed the touch and the words and stopped moving his hand; he did not, however, take his hand away. "Jethro? Is this not what you wanted?" he knew he was now holding his breath and he began to feel chilled fingers creep up his spin.
"Talk English, Ducky," Jethro growled.
Partly relieved, Ducky clarified, "Do you want me to touch you?"
"God, yes." The look in Jethro's eyes and the tone of his voice confirmed his answer.
Ducky blinked. "Then why are you stopping me?"
To his amazement he saw what he never would have thought he'd see on Jethro's face: a very faint flush. "Because it's too good," Jethro managed.
"Too good?" Ducky echoed, once again feeling extremely pleased with himself.
Jethro still breathing heavily and now, clearly without consciously doing so, pushing himself very slightly further into Ducky's hand. "Yeah. I'm really close, Duck."
Ducky smiled. "And the problem with that is?"
"Don't want to come like this."
Ducky lightly kissed Jethro's lips and then nipped the tip of his nose with his teeth, before putting his lips to Jethro's ear and whispering, "Why not?" As his breath touched Jethro's ear, he felt Jethro's groan and felt him again push up more into Ducky's hand. He sat back up and gazed down at Jethro.
He couldn't hold back the soft chuckle at the look of astonishment that crossed over Jethro's face as he stared up at Ducky. "I thought . . . Don't you . . . ? Wouldn't you . . . ? Duck?"
Ducky once again kissed Jethro, before saying, "Yes, I do enjoy making love in a bed. However, there are times, such as now, when one can enjoy lovemaking elsewhere. Come along, Jethro, you asked me to prove to you there is more to love than tough love -"
"Oh, you've done that, Duck."
"Oh, no, Jethro, I haven't. This is merely the beginning. Now, I think we've discussed this quite long enough, do you not?" And without waiting for Jethro to reply, Ducky once more lowered his head and claimed Jethro's mouth, while his hand began to stoke Jethro through the double thickness of his trousers and shorts.
He wasn't certain if he'd expected Jethro to stop him again, but Jethro didn't. Instead he just kissed Ducky back and parted his legs a little more. After a few more strokes through Jethro's clothing, Ducky found the end of Jethro's zipper and began to pull it down, parting the material of Jethro's trousers as he did so. He then stroked Jethro through the single layer of cloth, feeling how damp Jethro already was, before maneuvering and slipping his fingers through the slit of Jethro's shorts. Again Jethro gasped into Ducky's mouth, again he pressed into the touch.
"Duck!" he managed, pulling his mouth away from Ducky's and looking up at Ducky.
Ducky paused. "Do you wish me to stop?" He hoped Jethro didn't, because he wasn't entirely certain he'd be easily able to do so.
"Good." And once again Ducky put his mouth on Jethro's. As he moved his hand, stimulating Jethro, the strokes firm and regular, he marveled at what he was doing. Even in his wildest dreams he never truly believed, dared to believe, the day would come when he would have Jethro as a lover; when he'd be holding Jethro in such an intimate way, giving him so much intense pleasure, because Jethro's kiss, his own caresses, the way he pushed upwards, told Ducky just how much he was enjoying it.
It was slightly difficult to get the perfect rhythm, constricted as he was by the material of Jethro's shorts. Thus taking care not to let Jethro's sensitive tip brush against the cotton, he maneuvered until he was able to tug Jethro's arousal free from the confines of shorts and trousers. It still wasn't the ideal position, so taking his hand from where he caressed Jethro's neck, he hastily unbuckled Jethro's belt and unbuttoned his trousers, thus making the space somewhat less constricted - Jethro's body spoke its approval.
After that, it didn't take long, speeding up his strokes and gripping Jethro just a little bit more tightly, Ducky brought Jethro to the edge and let him tumble over. Warm, sticky liquid flowed into his hand and Jethro cried out Ducky's name, as he tangled his hand in Ducky's hair and pulled him nearer for a momentary bruising kiss, which within micro-seconds calmed. The kiss was brief, as Ducky could feel Jethro was breathing somewhat harshly.
With a degree of reluctance, he broke the kiss, lightly kissed Jethro's nose and cheeks and sat up, gazing down at Jethro who was taking deep breaths and blinking. Ducky could see the pulse in Jethro's temple throbbing and again he felt a swell of pride that he had caused the reaction. Under his still very light touch, he felt Jethro had softened; with care he maneuvered until he managed to tuck Jethro away again and then he wiped his hand on his handkerchief, all the time watching his new lover.
Jethro's eyes were ablaze with passion and desire still as he just stared at Ducky. As Ducky watched, Jethro shook his head and seemed to struggle to find his voice. "God, Duck," he finally managed. "That was . . ." He trailed off. "Don't think I can find the right words."
Ducky smiled. "Well, my dear, you did ask me to prove what I'd said about tough love not being the only kind, did you not?"
"Yeah. But I'd never . . . Seems I've been missing a lot all these years."
Ducky smiled. "I could say that you have, but that would sound awfully -"
Ducky laughed. "Something like that, yes."
"Just not sure I can match it," Jethro said, glancing away from Ducky.
"Well, I have no doubt on that score."
"Don't you now?" Jethro looked back at Ducky and put one hand on Ducky's thigh. "Guess we should find out." His hand began to move upwards. Ducky covered it with his hand and held it still. "Duck?" Jethro frowned. "You do want me to . . . ?"
Ducky hastened to reassure Jethro. "Oh, yes, Jethro. I want you to very much indeed. However, I propose we take it up to my bedroom. As much as I am loath to break the mood, and as happy as I'd be to continue to make love here in front of the fire, I'm afraid my leg is most definitely assuring me that to do so would not be a good thing."
Jethro frowned and sat completely up, buttoning and rezipping his trousers and rebuckling his belt. "Seem to remember suggesting something like that," he said.
Ducky nodded and drained the last of the whiskey from his glass. "Oh, yes, dearest, you did. However, the moment didn't seem appropriate; I did not wish to break the mood. Nor did I wish to stop touching and kissing you," he said simply.
Jethro shook his head and ruffled Ducky's hair. "Ah, Duck," he said, draining his own glass and giving Ducky a quick kiss on his cheek. "What am I going to do with you?"
Ducky just looked at him; he was certain the words had been deliberately chosen. "Well now, Jethro, let us go upstairs and find out, shall we?"
Jethro stood up, the movement seamless and held out his hand to help Ducky to his feet. Once they were both standing, Jethro gathered Ducky into his arms and pulled him near to him, before lowering his head and putting his lips to Ducky's ear. "There's something you'd better know, Duck. This is for good, okay? You and me."
Duck sighed with deep contentedness and put his head on Jethro's chest. "They, my dear, are the best words anyone has ever said to me," he said.
"Reckon I can do better than that," Jethro murmured, beginning to move his body very slightly against Ducky's. "How about these: I love you, Duck."
Ducky's response was incoherent as he belatedly realized just how aroused he'd become simply by kissing and touching Jethro. As Jethro supported him, Ducky heard his lover chuckling softly; he seemed far too pleased with himself. Not that Ducky was objecting, quite the opposite.
"And I," he said, after a few minutes of just taking deep pleasure in being held in Jethro's arms as a lover not just a friend, "Leroy Jethro Gibbs love you. And now, it is definitely time we retired to my bedroom and my bed."
"You tired, Duck?" Jethro quipped.
Ducky looked at Jethro and shook his head. "Oh, no. I am not in the least bit tired. In fact I do hope you are not entertaining the slightest thought of sleeping tonight, at least not for quite some time." And then before Jethro could comment, Ducky reached up on his toes and put his mouth to Jethro's again for a brief, fleeting kiss before he untangled himself from Jethro's arms, took the man he loved hand and led him from the room.