Hold On
by B. Cavis This story is a sequel to Suits.

by B. Cavis

Too tacky. Too stupid. Too... couple-y.

There are parts of this relationship, parts of this life that she shares with two instead of one, that are much more complicated than she ever imagined they could be when she first started this. Some things one can't prepare for no matter how logical their mind and no matter how many "Plan B's" they come with.

When Tony first fell into bed in front of her, and Gibbs fell into bed behind her, she had taken a step back to look at all of the issues that this (coupling? Tripling?) relationship carried within its stomach. She ticked them off on her fingers and played over their repercussions in her mind. If anyone were to find out, the three of them would lose all credibility within the community. If any of the three of them were to be injured, killed, or otherwise hurt, the other two would be crushed. If the relationship were to go sour, their work at NCIS would not only be severely altered, it would be... destroyed. Completely and utterly destroyed.

She had looked at every problem that had her mind could come up with, weighed them, and snuggled back up under the arms of the two men who made her feel complete, in spite of it all.

She doesn't regret that decision. She doesn't regret a moment since that night, a year ago tomorrow.

If her shopping genes had been part of said moment, however, she might have had to rethink that decision.

Kate tosses aside the third suit that she's come across in as many seconds and grunts in disgust at the lack of three person relationship-friendly presents available on the market today. She wonders if she should write a letter to her congressman, and decides against it. Too much energy, and resolution won't be fast enough.

She is so screwed it is not even funny.

If there was one thing her mother made sure to instill upon Kate, it was an overwhelming love of all things material. She was raised to believe that every issue could be solved by a little bit of Chanel and a nice sprinkling of Versace, and she sticks by that belief to this day.

Still... somewhere in her gut she knows that Gibbs won't look good in Chanel. He doesn't have the right skin tone for it.

She snorts, and the woman off to her right shifts subtly away from her.

The sales woman has started avoiding her because she knows that nothing she can offer is the right solution to Kate's problem. No amount of fake smiles can soothe Kate's frustration, and the woman is afraid of trying. She can see the bulge underneath the designer coat that indicates a gun (she's worked in D.C. too long not be able to recognize the G-women and men) and she can see the tension building in Kate's shoulders that indicates... a willingness to use it.

She has no desire to test either her customer's weapon or her temper. So she stays away.

Throwing the nothing-special suit back on the rack in disgust, Kate hitches her bag higher up on her arm and sighs. Her lower back is starting to retain tension, and there's an ache behind her eyes that whispers she is going to break down and either scream or cry if she has to deal with one more moment of disappointment. The Church of Capitalism is letting her down, and it is really starting to piss her off.

Damn the God of shopping, she thinks, and winces at the thought.

She turns out of the section of the department store, looking out over the horizon of skirts that are about twenty years too young for anyone who shops here to actual wear, and overpriced, ugly patterned, blouses with jaded eyes. She waits for something to pop out at her-- for the perfect gift to magically appear at her feet with the coincidence like luck that she sees in movies when the characters are gift shopping for the perfect way to demonstrate their love for each other.

Nothing pops.

Nothing appears.

What the hell do you get two men for your one year anniversary anyhow? She pounds her fist against her thigh in frustration. There was no Dear Miss Manners column about this, and the etiquette completely escapes her. This is a world built around two person love; three pieces of the same soul have no place here.

They weren't originally intending on getting each other anything. There has only been open acceptance of each other and what they have for a few months. It took nine months for Gibbs to reach his catharsis, and while she looks back on the times before that as full of fun and full of sex, it is only in the three months since then that she has really felt full.

There was talk about celebrating their anniversary at the point that their "relationship" became something stable enough to actually be called a relationship without the quote marks. Tony had sipped a beer while Kate nursed a large glass of white wine, and Gibbs sucked on his one glass of vodka for the night with easy, calm sips. They had sat around someone's living room and watched the noon sun pour in through the windows.

And talked.

"You do realize that we've been doing this for a year," she'd pointed out after a deep sip. Tony had looked up from his contemplation of the newspaper he had half open in his lap and drawn his eyebrows together.

"Not really. We only really started three months ago."

Gibbs ducked his head in embarrassment and looked away. The idea that he had been the one holding them back from the pleasure and the joy they had recently shared made him uncomfortable and self-conscious. "Yeah."

Silence ate at them for a moment or two, while Kate searched her brain for some way of "making it all better." When her answer had come, she had felt the weight on her shoulders dissipate quickly.

Kate glanced over at Tony, smiled encouragingly and risen from her seat on the worn leather recliner. Gibbs looked up as she stood in front of him, hands on her hips. His eyebrows went up, and she sighed gently. "Gibbs," she had whispered, and slowly slid onto his lap, arms around his neck, legs on either side of his. He'd swallowed, hard, and she smiled, slow and wide.

"Jethro," she purred in the voice that Tony called her "I'm a naughty little school girl, please spank me" tone. "Honey."

Tony snorted. Loudly.

"Could we please, pretty please, have our anniversary this month? Hm?" She leaned forward, took his earlobe in between her teeth, and moaned soft and sweet. "I would really, really like to have it now. To recognize the start of our relationship together." She bit down hard, and he grunted.

Tony undid his belt to punctuate the strength of her argument. Before long, she'd had Gibbs on his back, hands in her hair as he choked on Tony's tongue, and anything she wanted had been promised to her in triplicate.

So they had sealed it-- this month was their anniversary, regardless of when everyone stopped having doubts. After all, she had whispered against Gibbs's back that night, careful not to wake him as she smiled at Tony's happy face, he hadn't had a chance once they got him in their clutches.

Kate doesn't let go of the things she wants. Tony doesn't know how to.

But standing here, in the center of what has up till now been her salvation whenever she needed saving, Kate is rapidly regretting that little manipulation. Maybe if she had nine more months, she could come up with something halfway decent. Maybe, if she lets nine months pass her by, the world will suddenly develop the perfect gift for a woman to give her two men in a demonstration of the love and dedication that society currently doesn't recognize.

Somehow, she doubts it.

"How can I help you today, ma'am?" chirps someone from her elbow, and she glances around only to realize that she has somehow managed to end up in front of the jewelry case. She smirks to herself-- she developed the bad habit in high school of buying herself a new trinket every time something upset her.

By the time college rolled around and the ink dried on her parents' divorce papers, she had quite a few. Denial is a wonderful thing.

Maybe this will help, she thinks, and knows it won't but doesn't really care.

"I doubt it," she tells the moderately well dressed woman cheerfully. "But there's no harm in looking, is there?"

The woman looks offset. She's used to either flat out refusals or uncertain acceptance. She straightens her shoulders and smiles brighter, aligning her posture to stand taller. It helps her confidence a little.

"Well, maybe if I knew what kind of object you were looking for, I could make that search a little less hopeless?" She prompts politely, hoping for a sale to liven up the slow business day.

Kate's fingers leave smudges on the glass display case, and she wipes them up with her sleeve out of habit. Rule #24: Never leave anything anyone can trace back to you around, and never touch shiny glass cases. She and Tony have started their own list-- Da Rules-- and mock Gibbs openly by adding more to them whenever they get the chance. They're up to 34. Tony scribbles them in black ink on his mouse pad at work, and snickers with her about them over lunch.

Of course, when Da Rules drift more towards the personal ("Unofficial rule number 23: Never make the hot one sleep in the wet spot." "Tony, shut up.") as opposed to the professional, Gibbs will often retort by rolling one or both of them over and pounding them until they scream a rebuttal. Kate had a great birthday last month, based around Unofficial rule number 13: Never shower alone.

She's getting sidetracked. Must stop that.

The perky little girl is still looking at her expectantly, and Kate knows it but doesn't look up. Her eyes scan over the chunky gold and the thick silver, hands tapping a brief drum solo on the countertop. The girl's eyes twitch.

Nothing... Nothing... Nothing... Kate sighs from deep in her stomach and shakes her head in disappointment. Everything is too... bling bling. She can't picture Gibbs with a large silver medallion in his chest hair, and she desperately doesn't want to picture Tony with one.

"This is all too big," she complains gently. "They won't wear big."

"We have some smaller items," the woman prompts gently, pointing with a fake, hot pink nail down at the bottom row. Kate looks at her and looks down at the row, a few inches off the floor. Her perfectly manicured nails are clean and sparkling on the countertop.

The woman bends down and gets the velvet trays. Kate smirks. Power trips are good, even if they're small.

Kate waits until all four of them are laid out in front of her to touch anything. Mostly crosses and stars of David, nothing brings either Tony or Gibbs to her mind when she looks at them. There are a few hearts, but nothing manly. It's all either too chunky to be graceful, or too delicate to be practical. She knows them both too well to get them any of this stuff.

Her heart is falling again. She fights down the foolish urge to pout or stomp her foot.

"No," she says finally, "Sorry, but it's just not happening for me. Nothing here would look good on either of them." She slips her purse onto the other arm and glances down at her watch. Maybe she can find some twenty year old scotch for Gibbs and a nice tie or something for Tony. Obviously, her whole idea of "a gift to tie the three of us together" isn't going to happen today. Obviously, it hasn't been invented quite yet.

Something catches the corner of her eye and tugs her back to the spot. She pauses, afraid to get excited for fear of being let down again. Her head cocks to one side without conscious thought.

"Let me see those," she says, and points down at the black velvet tray on the center row. The woman's eyebrows go up, but she says nothing and produces what she is ordered to produce.

Kate picks up the clean, plain band that caught her eye and runs it over her fingers. Not a wedding band, not an engagement ring. Nothing but a simple circle of flawless reflection. Thin and sturdy, sexless and perfect.

"That's platinum," the woman pipes up, trying to be helpful. Kate drags it down her right ring finger, and examines how it looks on her finger. Thick for a woman's ring, but not too thick as to be unattractive. It's thin for a man's ring, but not so much that it looks womanly.

It is androgynous. It is a bisexual ring.

It just fucking popped at her.

There are two others just like it, obvious all made by the same designer, lying in two corners of the velvet. She takes both out and smiles to herself.

"I'll take them."

The sales girl boggles. "All three?"

"And I want them gift wrapped in blue paper-- actually, do you do engraving?" Her back is straight and her skin is glowing. She feels like someone just pumped her full of life and energy. She feels renewed.

A gift to tie the three of them together.

Well how about that.

It's official-- Tony is just really bad at this.

Somewhere in his family history, somewhere back in his genealogy, someone decided that he was just going to have to be the one in the family who was not going to be gifted with the ability to shop. Some asshole uncle back in the all purpose "Old Country" had probably traded Tony's sense of shopping for a mule to pull his rinky dink little cart.

This was all the mule's fault. There was no other explanation.

He knows, logically, that this is not a big deal. Kate and Gibbs are not going to decide the future of their three person romance based on what he gets them for the first year anniversary. They've held him in their arms for twelve months; his choice of a present can't change whatever it is they feel about him and whatever it is he feels about them. The fact that he gets light headed when one or both of them touch him is not going to be changed by whatever he ends up blowing his paycheck on.

But... he has this image of showing up to their date with a crappy little gift, while Kate has something fantastically beautiful and Gibbs has something overwhelmingly romantic. And that idea, that he might somehow let them down by punking out and buying something shitty and Hallmark worthy, pushes him forward beyond the knowledge that they will love him no matter what he buys them.

There's that word again. Love. It seems to be making a lot of appearances in his head these days when he thinks about them. He brushes the thought away for the time being.

He has shopping to attempt, after all.

A man in a suit and tie and a name tag comes up to him, smiling gently at what he can obviously tell is a completely hopeless young man come to get his beloved a present. Tony looks at him like he's a life preserver in Armani.

"Can I help you with anything?" the man asks gently, and Tony swallows.

"God I hope so. I need two presents, both of them personal, one for a man, one for a woman. And neither one of them can be crappy or stupid or clich», and neither one of them can be all... fluffy, because they don't do fluffy." He realizes that he is talking in a run on, desperately rushed sentence, and stops suddenly.

"Well, I think we can do that. What exactly do you need this gift to say?" The man, whose lapel pin proclaims his name to be "Steve" takes him deeper into the store. There is designer clothing on his left, and a long silver lined glass counter on the right. The display case lamps light up the silver and flash out of the corner of his eye.

No, don't get distracted. Tony clears his throat. "I need to be romantic and thoughtful, and I have no idea how to do either right now. Help me. Please. I have money," he offers hopefully.

"That's always a good start," Steve encourages. "Now the thing we have to do is find something that appeals to each person you're buying for. The woman. What color is her hair?"

"Her hair?"

"Certain hair and skin colors go well with certain fabric colors," Steve explains patiently. Tony wonders if he will always be remembered as "The Guy Who Thought ŽSeasons' Meant What Happens When the Leaves Changed."

"Her hair is brown. Dark brown. And, uh, brown eyes." Steve plucks a few dresses from some magic corner of the store. Tony swallows thickly. "Those are... nice." There are a couple of things in there that he knows both himself and Gibbs would love to see her in, and there are a couple of things that he knows she "oohs" over in the fashion magazines she sometimes skims during her lunch breaks. He is looking at a perfectly good, serviceable gift.

It's just... not good for him.

"Those are very nice," he offers, "but I was hoping to go for something a little bit less... ordinary. I want to get something that only she'll have. Something original."

Steve's eyes light up at the tone, and Tony feels that maybe he just redeemed himself for his lack of fabric-to-hair knowledge.

"We do have some beautiful jewelry and some-"

"No," Tony interrupts. "Something else. Something different than what every other guy in her life has ever given her."

He glances around, shifts uncomfortably, and wonders why he is about to do this to himself. There is no need.

But then again, there just might be.

"Look," he says in a low voice. "I need something for both the man and the woman that signifies... being someone special. I need something that the three of us can look at and know means something. I don't need it to be big, and I don't need it to be flashy. I just need it to be... special," he finishes lamely. God, he feels like an ass and a half for not being able to put it any better than that. He must be about three steps away from having the intelligence of a mushroom to be that completely incoherent.

But Steve is smiling, gently, and nodding his head like he now understands all of the mysteries of the Universe. Tony knows the feeling. It's what he woke up to this morning; two people loving his skin with theirs hands, revealing the secrets of life.

"I see," Steve says calmly. "Okay then. Something unique, but not necessarily something conventional. Something that has a meaning beyond price and aesthetic appearance." He pauses, and there is a silence that is way too meaningful for Tony to be sharing it with a store clerk, but he doesn't shift uncomfortably in his own skin.

Gibbs is not the only one who has managed to accept himself in this relationship.

"I might have just the thing," Steve says softly, and there's a new kind of respect on his face. Tony has the feeling that this man understands being... not like everyone else. It's comforting in a strange way-- to know that he is not the only one in the world whose relationship boggles the mind of the normal, mass majority.

It's good to know he's not alone.

The man in Armani folds his hands together and beckons Tony with a twitch of his head. His feet lead him over to a clean, if forgotten by the regular customers, corner of the store. Tony trails uncertainly.

Steve takes three long wooden cases off a high shelf and sets them down on the jewelers' counter. Tony stays on his side, peering down at the hand carved rosewood boxes intently. The tops slide off to reveal three long, black leather cords.

Tony plucks one out. Obviously hand made, the cord he holds in his hand is braided tightly all the way down. In the very center, there is a large black onyx worked into the ties. Throughout the strings, all the way down, small stones have been punctured to turn into beads, and they glitter regally in the light from the case.

His fingers are shaking slightly. He hides it by brushing his palms on his thighs.

The other two are the same, with gentle variations in the stones streaming down the leather. Two more onyx stones shine in the center of them. Tony holds all three in his palm at once, breathing deeply.

His hands don't shake as he puts them back in the boxes and seals the tops over them. His vision is steady, and his voice is calm.

"I'll take them."

They meet together at Kate's apartment because she lives closest to Tony's favorite Japanese place. He has been acting extremely nice all week long, and with a little persuasive tongue work on Kate's asshole and Gibbs's cock, he was able to secure their promise to let him have his way. He did a little jig when they agreed, and they panted on the bed like the air was going to disappear soon and they should get as much of it as possible.

For her part, Kate's special little thing tonight is her outfit. She has had the skirt she is wearing right now for over a year. She went out and bought it when she had her first real wet dream about Gibbs, to celebrate her own femininity. It's black and tight and leather, and it looks like if she bends over in it, her ass is going to pop out of the back and display her for all to see and taste. She loved it the second she tried it on, and the one hundred bucks it cost her was well spent.

The camisole was a present to herself the first time she caught Tony looking at her like her was going to take her to the bathroom and fuck her hard inside a stall. She had taken her lunch break off and gone in search of something to reveal every inch of her cleavage, and found this. Black, made of lace, it's just dark enough to give a tantalizing hint of her nipples, and not dark enough for her to wear it with a bra. She took both objects out of her closet today, put them on, and added a pair of Fuck Me pumps to highlight the look. Her entire body is clean and smells faintly of honey.

She feels wonderful. A good pair of shoes can make everything special.

She masturbated herself to a quick orgasm, kept her face makeup free excluding a hint of mascara, and the resulting image in the mirror was wanton and needy and ready to be fucked hard and long.


Every hair is in place, and she has the table set and full of freshly delivered food when Gibbs shows up.

"Hi," she says, ridiculously pleased with herself for some reason, and he smiles at her. Her good humor is infectious. She sashays up to him, and he grabs her in a bear hug before she can be flirtatious. His mouth on hers is fire and sensation, and his tongue is unforgiving in her mouth as his hands tangle in her hair.

She pulls away, smirking now. He is grinning.

"Hungry?" he asks.

"Not for food, but we promised Tony we'd feed him," she reminds, and laughs as he pulls off a pout she would have thought him too old for. He strokes her hip as he passes by her, a small hint of how they'll end up tonight, and she shivers.

There's no boxes with him, she thinks to herself, and wonders if maybe he is having something delivered, or if it is hidden somewhere on his person.

She is still checking out his ass, wondering if he could have some how fit it all up there, when Tony sneaks up behind her and presses his lips to the back of her head gently. She smiles and turns around to greet him. "Tony," she cheers. "You came to see me. How nice."

He smirks at her, and the second tongue of the evening takes her mouth. He can taste Gibbs on her, and when the older man suddenly materialized behind her, he pulls away from her mouth gently to press his greeting against the other man's tongue and compare the flavor.

Panting and wanting, the three of them untangle themselves and make their careful way to the table. Tony lets out a little sound of approval, squeezing Kate's ass in thanks, and she gasps for breath even as Gibbs pulls the chair out for her and eases her into it. The skirt she's wearing tonight doesn't leave much room for anything.

Panties are no exception. But she might just be able to find space for Tony's hand, whispers the naughty part of her, and she smirks into her first sip of miso soup.

They feed each other eel rolls and shrimp tempura. Tony holds his chopsticks wrong on purpose, because he loves the feel of Kate's fingers wrapped around his to correct him, and Kate knows it so she plays along.

She's dropped one of her chopsticks on the floor an insane number of times this evening for a similar reason: Gibbs's breath on her ankles feels wickedly pleasurable, and the first time she dropped it close enough to her leg for him to be close to her thighs, she could hear his breath catch in his throat. His hands brushed her calves briefly, before he rose with her missing utensil in hand, calmly.

Soon, his posture whispers.

How soon? She wonders. And gets her answer a few drinks later.

"Tony," Gibbs announces in the middle of their four bottle of sake. "I don't think Kate's wearing any underwear."

Tony sips from his cup of tea and smirks gently. He wasn't a womanizer for oh so many years for nothing. He can tell the difference between a thong and a g-string from a quick pat on the ass. And he can tell bare flesh from a mile away. "Oh, really? But that would be naughty of her. And Katie's a good girl."

"Oh bite me, the both of you," she breathes, and the three of them laugh loud and hard at their own ridiculousness.

A hand inches up her thigh, pushing her skirt out of the way, and she stops laughing. Tony's eyes are glinting with mischief, and Gibbs's face is relaxed and cheery.

And there are two very naughty men sitting on either side of her, forget what their faces say.

Tony's right hand comes down on her left thigh, Gibbs's left hand on her right thigh, and suddenly she is being pulled open and spread wide. She can feel her pussy lips being pulled apart by the stretch, and the air on her sticky heat feels so incredibly good and so incredibly naughty.

Gibbs's right hand comes flat against her inner thigh, the other one still holding her open, and the roughness of his skin is pure sensation on the softest of all the areas on her body. Tony's own palm rubs, mock soothingly, over her knee, as his words spill sickly sweet into her ears.

"Come on now, Gibbs, you know that this woman would never even dream of going without panties. She's way too well put together for something that incredibly hot." He drags the back of his hand over her knee cap, and she can feel his knuckles scratching her skin gently.

Gibbs's hand draws lazy shapes on her inner thigh, fingers relaxed and breathing even. "I don't know, Tony," he says playfully. "I think she might just be missing panties. I can smell something that smells like Katie, here." His hand trails up closer, and now she can feel the heat of his palm looming above her cunt without actual contact, and it's driving her nuts how absolutely wicked this man is.

Tony's hand is trailing up her thigh now, heading for her other inner thigh, and he pinches her hard and fast until she is squirming in her seat and trying to move every which way at once. He shifts and leans against her shoulder with his, looking down her lacy blouse at the breasts that have fascinated him for years.

She is sin. She is theirs.

"Aw, but why would Kate do that?" he asks in confusion. "That doesn't make any sense. Kate knows how to dress herself."

And two fingers, belonging to two different hands, sink into her, forcing her jaw to relax and her body to tense up. She is grinning, stupidly, but honestly. Her soul is swelling up happy in her chest. Their hands on her are emotional yeast.

Gibbs's thumb draws a line from hole to clit, and she shivers as he repeats the move with a pressure too light to do anything but slowly build the fire up. His lips sink into her shoulder, sealing her skin with a wet, open mouthed kiss. She grunts, and tries to push her hips up against him. Their hands hold her down, firmly, and she loves the way the mock struggle makes her cunt weep fat tears of need down their fingers.

Tony adds his middle finger to the two moving in and out of her body. Her eyes close softly, and apparently that was the wrong response because he starts to move his fingers harder and deeper, forcing the air out of her body with each thrust into her. He waits until her head tilts towards him in need, and leans forward to take her lips in his.

There is happiness in everything they are doing right now, and it makes all three of them feel like nothing could ever possibly go wrong in the universe contained in Kate's apartment. No one could ever cause them pain and no one could ever interfere with their joy. Nothing can touch them here, and they wallow in that security.

Gibbs pulls his mouth away from her shoulder and she feels his breath cooling the saliva he left there. Tony's tongue is marking the roof of her mouth as its territory. She doesn't have the breath left in her body to dispute that claim.

"I think," Gibbs whispers evilly, "that she didn't wear her panties tonight because she wanted us to suffer during dinner." He drags his teeth over the muscles of her neck, and she grunts into Tony's mouth as the older man's thumb starts to increase the force on her clit. Tony pulls away from her, smirking, and looks over at Gibbs innocently.

"She wanted us to suffer?"

"Fucking hate you guys," she moans distractedly, but the smile hasn't left her eyes. Tony pushes his fingers harder in reply, and she grunts as logical thought is finger banged out of her. Gibbs presses his thumbnail into her clit, and she whimpers as her face scrunches up in a perfect mix of agony and lust.

"I think she did," Gibbs responds. Tony's brow furrows in confusion, and the smile yanking at his lips can no longer be kept back. Gibbs is too serious to not be laughing at her.

"Oh," Tony says. "Well, in that case, do you really think she deserves to come?" His fingers still, and Kate groans as the three fingers that had been working her are reduced to just Gibbs's pointer slipping in and out of her slowly. She is sticking to the chair, and her entire muscular structure is liquefying underneath her skin. There is no way she can move anything right now. There is no way that she really wants to.

Gibbs stops moving to, and she dry sobs. His finger on her clit moves slow and gentle. Her orgasm is so close, so very close, and if she doesn't come right now her life is going to end at her dinner table, with her skirt pushed up and her nipples rock hard against her shirt. And that is a shitty way to die.

Very fucking shitty.

"Please," she whimpers desperately. "Please, guys, come on."

Tony's eyebrow goes up. "'Please,' Kate? You want mercy from us when you were going to tease us both all dinner with your little games? Does that sound fair to you, Gibbs?" He scissors his fingers inside her, and she arches back, trying desperately to push herself forward for one or both of them to touch and end.

No one does. She is still held firm to the chair.

"No," Gibbs says, "that doesn't sound fair at all, Tony. What do you think, Katie doll? Don't you think you've been mean and not at all nice to Tony and myself tonight by wearing that?" He presses lightly on the area just above her clit, his skin barely brushing the place she wants him the most. This must be some kind of new age torture method that she hadn't heard about in the Secret Service. If he did this for long enough, she would spill every classified state secret in her body for just a hint of release.

Gah. These men are dangerous.

Gibbs shakes his head. "I don't think she deserves to come, Tony. I think, maybe, we should demand a little bit of payment from her in thanks for us being so nice as to consider letting her come on our fingers." He tilts his head to one side. "What kind of payment do you think deserves that kind of reward? Hm?"

...Fucking dangerous...

Tony takes his hand away from her cunt, and she gasps with the loss, her body feeling empty on just one finger. Gibbs's thumb hasn't moved at all. "Oh," Tony says, "I don't know. I really could go for a blow job, though."

"Sounds like a plan." He takes his hand completely away from her, leaving her wet and empty and needy and crying in want, and his other hand pinches her thigh sharply. "You wanna come, Katie girl?"

What, is he kidding? "Ye-Yeah," she pants. "Plea... Please!"

He nods. "Okay then. Get down on the floor and take care of Tony, then me. And we'll see what we can do for you. If you're good enough to make up for how mean you were at the beginning of this night, that is."

And because he's Gibbs and he's Tony, because this is the most trusting relationship she's ever been in, because she can't think about anything but the burn, the burn, the burn between her legs, she falls down on her knees, turns, and unzips Tony's slacks with desperate fingers. He's not wearing underwear either.

Hypocrite, points out some part of her, but that voice is silenced by the liquids dripping out of her cunt and turning her thighs wet and sticky.

His cock is red and thick and bulging, and she takes it in both hands with the desperation of a woman who hasn't come yet and wants nothing more than to orgasm. She takes him into her mouth with a little panting moan, and he grunts in reply to the sound and the feel of her on him. His hands come down to tangle in her hair firmly, but without forcing her, and she thanks some deity that even when they're being crass with each other, they still respect each other.

She rolls her tongue around him, jaw wide, hand on his balls. She sucks and spreads her legs wide, begging something to give her release, and when she manages to focus her hazy eyes on his face, he is looking back down at her with such awe in his gaze that it makes her feel loved. She forces herself further down on him, feeling his cock hit the back of her throat with each downward bob of her head. Her gag reflex flares up briefly, but she lets it wash over her and doesn't fight it down, so it calms enough for her to keep moving.

Tony grunts weakly, mouth open and breathing shallowly. Gibbs slips over into Kate's recently vacated chair, and grabs the younger man by the back of the head. His mouth tastes like rice wine and avocado, but underneath that is the flavor of Tony, and he bathes his tongue in it. Tony's mouth is lax and weak, and Gibbs takes the time to enjoy what Kate is doing to his lover. He takes ownership over teeth and lips and cheeks, and loves every second of it.

Tony is coming undone. It is wonderful to experience, and just as wonderful to watch.

"Kate," he whispers against Gibbs's mouth, and the older man takes his lower lip in between his teeth and bites down gently. The groan that escapes their kiss fills Kate's ears, and she groans in response, her throat vibrating around Tony's cock while her hands play with his balls and her legs shake in exhaustion and need.

And he comes, blowing into Kate's strawberry mouth as she sucks all of him down without pause. She licks him clean and soft, and turns towards Gibbs pleadingly.

"I wanna come," she whines softly, and he pulls away from Tony with a little lick at the younger man's abused bottom lip. Tony collapses forward onto the table, panting and gasping for air, hands free of Kate's hair and clinging to reality by sheer force of will.

Gibbs looks down at her, his mental prowess slipping, and he pulls her up by the arms in a desperate attempt to get release before he ends up losing all of his self-control and hurting either one or both or all three of them. She follows willingly, and when he plops her down on the table in front of him, she looks at him like he is her only hope at salvation and relief.

Her thighs are spread apart, skirt still bunched up around her waist while her nipples try to tear holes in her shirt. Her legs sway a bit, in her impossibly high heels, and he smiles at the image she offers right now. She looks like she breathes sex to fill her lungs and devours lust to feed her stomach.

She looks like one of the most important parts of his life, and his hands on her knees are warm and gentle out of fear of scaring her away from him. From them.

"I think you deserve a little reward, don't you?" he grates out, and she nods eagerly.

"A very big reward, lover." Her hands are on his belt buckle, and her fingers work without aid from her eyes. He has no idea how she is keeping her balance on the table right now, and he can't think straight enough to figure it out. She perches on the wood, her ass a few inches from a pile of wasabi, and looks like a queen surveying her kingdom.

Tony groans to his left. He doesn't look.

His zipper going down is the sweetest sound he has ever heard. Her hands cool and firm on his erection, pulling him through the boxers, is the most loving caress he has ever felt.

"Big reward, huh?" he chokes out, and she puts her hands on his shoulders. His own grab her waists instinctually, and with him to balance her, she makes the transition from sitting on the table to kneeling on the chair, legs on either side of his hips. Her cunt hovers wet and sloppy over his cock, and he can feel the damp warmth radiating off her.

She smirks, eyes heavy, and her hand trails down between them to take his cock in her fist and guide him into her with one quick drop of her hips. "The biggest," she assures.

She is hot and tight around him, and he grits his teeth tight to build his stamina up. If he starts to move now, he is going to be gone in five thrusts or less. She has been kept on the edge for close to half an hour now. Her cunt is hungry, and if he lets it, it will devour him whole in a second.

Her head drops forward to sink her teeth into his shoulder though his shirt, and he grunts as his hands tighten around her waist.

"Gibbs," she whines softly, "fuck me. Please. I've been good and everything."

He grits his teeth hard and bites down on the inside of his cheek. "If I move now, Katie, I'm not going to last. Bite your tongue and hold on for a moment."

She groans into his shoulder, fingernails biting at his back as her hips grind against his, clit seeking contact and relief against the cotton of his boxers. His hands squeeze her hips harder, and his eyes close for a moment to gather the tatters of his defense around him.

Hold on tight, he tells himself weakly, and starts to move her up and down on his cock. Her teeth lose purchase on his shoulder, and her saliva has made the shirt wet and damp. Her breath cools him through the fabric. She is making a soft little gasping sound as her cunt shifts to take him in, only to have him taken away a moment later. He tries not to listen, and fails.

"You're so hot," he groans gently, and she pants wetly against his collar. "Should tie you to the bedposts so you're just for Tony and me to use." He pulls her closer to his body, hands firm on her body, and shifts her so that with every downward pull of her body onto his cock, her clit rubs up against the waistband of his boxers. She wails her approval. The sound is manna to his ears. He can feel his control slipping and knows that if he doesn't make her come soon, he is going to come before she does, and leave her wet and unsatisfied.

He thinks back to all of the little tricks he has learned to use to make her beg, picks out the ones that can work in this position, and closes his eyes to gather strength.

The sound open handed slap against her ass sends all of the exhaustion out of Tony's body, and he watches them in fascination as she throws her head back and starts to beg for more. Gibbs's teeth have worked the inside of his cheek raw and bloody.

Kate's hands cling to his shoulders as she arches and dances in his lap obscenely. Her head is thrashing back and forth, hair whipping her cheeks as her throat forms her need into words. "Gibbs," she begs, "please, make me come, make me scream, make it stop, oh God, make it stop, make it..." She's juicy and hot and full, and the hand that comes down on her ass again makes her scream as she spins out of control and falls spiraling out of the sky, wings melted and hair burning.

Flying too close to the sun, Tony thinks fuzzily, and as Gibbs's hand comes down on her ass again, the older man grabs her and starts to pound her with all of his remaining strength.

"Come," he murmurs to his lover, and Gibbs's eye trail over to him for a split second before his head shoots back and his body arches up against her as he pours his life into her and cries out for God and the Devil to hear.

They sit in the chair and try to regain breath. Tony smiles peacefully from where he is, zips up his fly and fastens his belt firmly. When he stands, Kate looks up at him fuzzily, hands clutching at Gibbs's arms desperately, and doesn't protest his absence when he gives her a soft, reassuring smile.

The wrapped boxes dropped on the table a moment later jerk them both out of their stupor, and Kate smiles wide and satisfied. "Aw, Tony, you brought me a present? And here I didn't get you anything."

He pinches her bottom, and she laughs cheerfully. "You had better have gotten me something, brat. I went shopping for you two. I expect something in return." He sits down and pouts playfully, and Kate gently untangles herself from a calm Gibbs. He watches her progression to her bedroom, and gently rearranges his clothing and pulls his pants back up.

The two small jewelry boxes he pulls from his pockets are a little bit crushed from the force of her legs, but they are still in tact. He takes a small envelope from his back pocket and places it on top of the two boxes. Tony watches the progress cautiously.

"Did you get me a diamond?" he asks playfully.

"No, I got you a penis piercing," Gibbs answers back calmly, sipping the now cold tea. Kate giggles from the bedroom, and comes out a moment later with two boxes in her left hand, and another in her right palm. She has smoothed her clothing down and taken the shoes off. She looks relaxed and happy. Gibbs and Tony both watch her as she makes her way back to the table, and when she plops down in Gibbs's old chair with a little bounce, the offerings in her left hand are distributed to the right people.

Tony looks at his box and shakes it. "Did you get me a diamond?"

"Just open the goddamned box, Tony."

Tony peels the wrapping paper aside faster than Gibbs can, and he holds the ring in his palm with a low whistle. "Cool."

Gibbs fingers his gently. "Katie, this is too much."

She takes her own out of the box and slips it on her right ring finger. "No, Gibbs. This is just right. Look inside."

"TKJ, 6/05/05," Tony reads softly, and presses it between his two hands. The first time they crashed against each other, recorded in platinum. The order in which they sleep: Tony, Kate, Jethro, scribed unchangeable in metal.

Gibbs smiles gently. He hasn't worn a ring in years, since he was last married. Maybe it's time, he thinks to himself. Maybe these two people are... more to him than the three redheads who came before them

Kate takes his ring in hand and reaches around his neck, pulling out the dog tags that she has known he wears under his suits for years. He watches her do it, eyes telling nothing and face blank.

She unhooks the chain, slips the ring on to rub up against the metal that tells people who he is, and secures it once more.

"There," she says softly. "Wear us around your neck, so we're next to your heart. I like us closer to that than to your hands and our work."

There is silence, calm and still, and when someone moves it is both Tony and Gibbs leaning forward to claim one of her cheeks as their own and touch her to reassure themselves that she is indeed real.

"Thank you," they murmur together. Tony slips his ring on his right ring finger, the same place Kate's is, and thinks the way it looks on his skin is as close to perfect as it can get. Kate smiles serenely, and looks at Tony expectantly.

"I delivered, Tony boy."

He smiles and offers a package to each of them, holding back the third one. Kate makes a show of shaking it, and Gibbs smirks at her before they both start to tear into the wrapping.

"Oh Tony, this is beautiful," she says when she sees the intricate carving of the box. He shakes his head.

"The thing inside is the real gift."

Gibbs slides the top off gently, and picks the leather cord up with a raised eyebrow. Kate takes her own and grins. "This works too," she says cheerfully, and pulls her cord out to wrap it around her fingers. She ties it tight around her wrist, touching the onyx gently and letting the leather ends trail down her arm when she moves.

Tony takes the cord from Gibbs and takes the dog tags still on top of his shirt in hand. He stretches out the leather, holding one end by the fastener that keeps it on his neck, and slowly wraps the length of the cord around the entire chain, winding and twirling, before securing it with the other end over the clasp.

Kate's ring shines in the light. Tony's onyx talisman guards the tags and the heart that beats underneath them.

"Thank you," Gibbs whispers gently, and Kate plants a wet kiss on Tony's mouth in thanks. She takes the ring off of his finger, brushes the marks his fingers left on it off, and slips it onto the cord. It slides down until it stops against the onyx, and stays there. It looks better on the chain then it did on his finger, and she smiles softly.

The brown haired man grins cheerfully, proud of himself for being able to please both of them with his gift. He takes his own cord back from Kate's hands, and ties it around his neck, long enough to keep from showing when he wears suits, but short enough for him to always be able to feel it. To always know it's there.

Silence takes them all for a second, and when Gibbs's takes the two plain brown boxes in hand and offers them both to his lovers, he smoothes his pants legs nervously.

Tony and Kate share a look with each other, before carefully pulling the boxes open and looking down at what they have been given by the oldest member of their triad.

Kate and Tony remove identical key rings out, holding two keys a piece, and look at Gibbs with the knowledge that this is something serious and meaningful, even if they don't know what.

"What do these keys open, Gibbs?" Kate prompts gently, and he plays with his sleeves without meeting their eyes.

"My front door," he says, "and the safe deposit box I have down at First national." He swallows down his nerves and steels his back with all of the confidence he can scrounge up. "I'm not powerful," he says, and their eyes are focused on his steadily. "I'm not rich and I'm not good at being open with my feelings and all that crap." He laughs humorlessly, rubbing his forehead with a fist. "I'll never be able to give either one of you half of what you deserve." He swallows, looks up, and faces the music. "All I can give you is me. And this is all I have."

He takes the envelope up. "In here," he explains, "is my emergency contact card. You've both been listed as the first ones to call. Kate has been listed as next of kin, and Tony is in charge of my estate if something should happen to me." He stands up, and the two of them follow his face with their eyes. "This is all I can give you. If it's not enough, I understand, but I wanted you to have it anyway."

Kate looks down at he keys in her hand, eyes full of tears, and she squeezes them tightly in her palm. They make imprints in her skin, and she doesn't notice.

"This is all we could ever want," she whispers to him, and his shoulders drop in relief. Tony touches his arm with the back of his hand.

"We don't want anything from you but you," he murmurs. "What could we ask for that would be more important than this, huh?"

A hand appears on both of his arms, one small and manicured, the other strong and lanky, and he is pulled down to kneel on the floor. He feels like he's wearing a lead hat, and his head droops forward in relief and need as they both fall to the floor beside him and wrap their arms around his body. Thin and womanly around his neck, hard and strong around his waist.

And he is grabbing at both of their backs, clinging to them, holding them to him so he can feel their warmth and their breath against his face, and he might be crying and he might not be. He can't tell anymore. He doesn't know anything but them anymore.

"Be here now," Kate tells him gently. "That's all we could ever ask from you. Just be here with us right now and don't leave and don't think we're going to abandon you for each other or someone else." She shakes her head, and she is crying, soft and wet against his cheek as she sniffles and tries not to sound too hysterical. The ring on her finger presses against the back of his neck, and her lips whisper truth and sweet nothings against the edge of his jaw. "We don't want anyone else," she chokes.

"You're all we need from you," Tony whispers against his cheek. "Believe that and you'll be just fine and so will we." Lips are against lips, tongue erasing uncertainty in a flush of saliva and pressure, and there is love here. There is a year's worth of commitment and fidelity, and mutual, desperate need. There is love here. Love and the whispered pleas for belief.

And God help him, he does.


This is the place where you either tell me it sucked or tell me it rocked. Really, I check the manual-- this is the place.

looks around

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