Oh, The Places You'll Go

Rewind, Replay, Reset, Restart

Notes: Written for Porn Battle. Prompt--stories. Post 5x05--Leap of Faith.

In his head it goes like this: His fingers, tired and cramping, slip from the concrete just as McGee reaches for him. Their fingertips brush just barely as he plummets down and down, looking up at McGee's outstretched hands and his face contorted in horror.

For at least the fiftieth time, Tony's eyes fly open, stopping the speeding train of images just before he smashes into pieces on the garage floor. He pounds the mattress in frustration. He's alive, why can't that be enough? Staring up at nothing in the dark feels too much like being dead. Maybe he needs to change the story.

He closes his eyes.

In his head it goes like this:

"I love you, McGee. I promise never to give you a hard time again."

"Yeah, right."

They don't move for a minute, Tony's heartbeat so loud in his ears that he only just hears McGee say, "I'm glad you're not dead, Tony."

Tony whips his head around to say something; something cutting, something funny, something that will defuse the tension and make them forget that his body was nearly shattered into a million pieces, but he can't. He can't because McGee is staring at him like he's never seen him before and before Tony's mind can catch up, his body is already way ahead of the game and he's crushing his mouth to McGee's, gripping his neck, kneeling up and pushing, pushing, pushing until McGee is flat on the floor and Tony is on top of him, kissing him, holding him down, hips rocking against him.

Tony breaks the kiss and pushes his face into the crook of McGee's neck, pressing his lips against the warm skin there. It's tangy with salt and fear and Tony doesn't know what he's looking for until he feels it; the steady beat of McGee's pulse under his mouth. Proof of life. His lips move over and over the spot but it's not until McGee pulls him off by his hair so that they're eye-to-eye that he realizes he's saying 'Please.'

"Please, what?"

"Probie, don't make me...Just. Pants?"

And it's crazy, this whole thing is crazy because Gibbs and Ziva are a few levels below and they could be here any second but Tony is so hard it hurts and he needs to- He needs.

And somehow his fingers aren't cramping any more and he has McGee's pants open and his hand inside them and McGee's heavy and hot and solid and real in Tony's spit-slicked palm and this is what it means to be alive. This is what it has always meant.

Tony has no thoughts for stamina, he's already held on too long once today, and McGee's hand twists and pulls at him as if it's known what to do forever and the familiar fizzing ache starts up, building to flashpoint so fast that Tony is dizzy with it. He fixes McGee with a stare.

"Come with me, McGee," he commands, stroking sharply two, three times, and McGee does, wide eyes never leaving Tony's face.

Tony's eyes fly open again and he bucks into his own hand, his orgasm ripping through him like it's expelling all the tension of the day in one ultimate feel-good moment. He relaxes, lying still, letting the aftershocks ripple across his body, letting the lethargy claim his limbs. He should move and clean up but there's a part of him that doesn't want to because he's not ready to make the slide back into reality. Not when that means a cold washcloth and an empty bed. Not when that means letting go.

The phone rings. Tony thinks about not answering, but he's always been curiosity's bitch and today's no different.

"This better be good," he says.

"Tony? Er, hi. Look, I know it's late, I just...Well, I..."

"Spit it out, Probie," says Tony, warmth spreading across his chest and a grin across his face.

"I can't sleep. I keep seeing...and I just wondered if..."

Tony can hear the slight shake in McGee's voice--the one he's trying hard to cover up--and his heart speeds up again. What if you can make your own reality? What then?

"You wanna come by for a bedtime story, Probie?"

There's a long pause and Tony wonders if he's read this whole thing wrong.

"Yeah," says McGee, and now Tony can hear a smile. Not the big grin full of teeth, but the sly one, the one that says 'you won't see it coming.'

Maybe it's not the fall that will kill him. And maybe he doesn't care.

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