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Sign of Weakness

"The 'morality of compromise' sounds contradictory. Compromise is usually
a sign of weakness, or an admission of defeat. Strong men don't compromise,
it is said, and principles should never be compromised."
-- Andrew Carnegie

Gibbs woke with a start. He raised his head, looking downward to find the source of the pleasureable sensation that had pulled him from a sound sleep. Tony was kneeling between his spread legs, and his fingers were... Gibbs blinked, sucking in a breath. His fingers were inside Gibbs. What the--

"What the fuck to you think you're doing, DiNozzo?" Gibbs hissed.

Green eyes rose lazily to meet blue. Tony blinked, before saying slowly, "What does it look like, Boss?"

Gibbs growled. He knew what it looked like, god damn it. There was no way to mistake what Tony was doing, what with Tony's fingers where they were and Tony's erect cock gleaming with lube and pre-come.

"I'm trying to make love to you here, Boss, but you're not making it easy." Tony sank back onto his knees with a sigh, his expression a blend of disappointment and lust.

Gibbs struggled to sit up. "You must be dreaming, DiNozzo. The only cock who ever gets close to an ass is mine, got it?"

Tony frowned. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"Ah, no," Tony said. He sounded as though he was forcing himself to remain calm. "I thought we'd agreed to give this relationship a try yesterday. If I also remember correctly, so far you've fucked me three times. The first time was two weeks ago. Then we had what we shall refer to as the 'fifteen days of denial' - or at least that's what Abby would call it -, and then you took me twice yesterday."

The dreamy smile on Tony's face made it clear that both times had been extremely pleasurable.

"Your point, DiNozzo?"

"You're aware that I'm not Ziva, or Jenny, Boss?"

Gibbs threw a corner of the bedspread over his lap and couldn't hide his grimace at the mention of the Director's name. "Trust me, if you were either of them, we wouldn't be here, DiNozzo."

"And you've certainly spent enough time touching my anatomy to be absolutely certain I'm neither of them nor any girl at all, right?"

"What is this, twenty rhetorical questions? Get to the point, DiNozzo, if you even have one."

"Sorry for being a bit blunt, Boss, but I happen to have a cock, not a cunt." Now Tony grimaced. "And as a guy, with a cock, I happen to want to stick it somewhere, now and then. Since you are not a girl, either - and trust me, I've noticed -," his short but meaningful, intense glance at Gibbs' body left no question as to his meaning, "the cunt option is kind of... not an option. However, you happen to have an asshole, just like me, and--"

"You want to 'stick it' up there, DiNozzo? I don't think so. I don't bottom."

"Ever? See, because right there we have a problem." Tony was breathing very slowly, but it sounded as though he was clenching his teeth, "I'm technically bi, but I'm primarily into girls - women. With cunts. Meaning, usually I'm the one on top, simply out of genetic necessity. Or did you think that every single one of my college-aged girlfriends was into fucking me with a strap-on? Get real. I like being on top. I like fucking. I'm no-one's bottom-boy. If you thought differently, then I guess this 'relationship' is over pretty much before it even started."

"I'd say you also like getting fucked, if yesterday was any indication. You were begging for it."

Tony sat up on the other side of the bed and nonchalantly also twitched a corner of the blanket over his wet groin. He crossed his arms before his naked chest and stared at Gibbs, his green eyes steady. "Yes, so I happen to be flexible. At least with the right guy. You know I've carried a torch for you a long, long time, Boss. I'd do pretty much anything you asked if only it made you touch me again, I admit it. But this is where I draw the line. For a long time, I thought I'd never have a real relationship, one that was intended to last. Then Jeanne happened, and I knew that I could do that as long as it wasn't all based on a lie. But a relationship implies equality between two partners. And you, always topping, with me, always bottoming? That's not equal; that's you calling the shots and me spreading my legs like a girl."

Surprisingly, Gibbs didn't have an immediate comeback to that. He opened his mouth, but closed it again a second later when it became clear that he didn't quite know what to say.

"You get to tell me what to do when we're at work, Boss. You get to headslap me; you even get to put me down in front of the entire team. I don't like it, but it's you, and for a long time the only thing I wanted was for you to pay attention to me. Any attention. But here, in what was supposed to be our bed as a couple? You don't get to do that here. If you have a reason to be wary of bottoming, fine. We'll work through it, together, although considering the way you went at it when it was me at the bottom, I'd say you have no reservations when it's you doing the fucking. But if this is your way of telling me that you have no intention of ever spreading your legs for me, then this is over."

Tony stared at Gibbs, a mute appeal in his eyes. Gibbs had to struggle not to avert his eyes. Was that shame he felt?

"I'm sorry, DiNozzo, but I don't bottom. There's no horrible history behind that, but I simply don't. And that's a point I won't diverge from in the future. So either you can accept that--"

"Or leave. I should have known it'd be that easy for you. Your way or the highway, right?" Tony snorted in derison, although his mouth looked wounded. He hesitated for a moment, leant forwards perhaps an inch and for a second looked like he might want to kiss Gibbs, but then he got up resolutely. The blanket fell away and Gibbs felt his breath go short as always at the sight of Tony's naked body.

He struggled with himself to open his mouth, to stop Tony from leaving, but couldn't.

He heard the bathroom door click shut and the water run in the sink, then a minute later his front door slammed shut. Then the motor of Tony's sports car, the Corvette that had replaced his destroyed Mustang, roared up. The sound faded with the distance.

An hour later, he still sat upright in the messed-up bed. He wished he could cry, or give in; anything to combat the coldness creeping into his heart.

"NCIS" ficlet by allaire mikháil, 1.177 words, Gibbs/DiNozzo, Gibbs POV, rated R.

I so abhor this tendency in the NCIS fandom to emasculate Tony. He's a guy, not Gibbs' effeminate fucktoy. He's canonically the beta to Gibbs' alpha, but that doesn't make him a girl. In my take on the characters, Gibbs better learn how to compromise - or he could always return to working on his boat, alone in the basement. Seriously.

Many thanks to ljksl2025 who amazingly agreed to beta this and proceeded to untangle my POVs and keep me honest *g*.

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