"Bored," says Tony, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "Boooooored."
Tim puts down his binoculars with a sigh. "Great, Tony. And I forgot the coloring book and crayons. I apologize."
"Jethro ate the crayons," says Tony absently, and then adds, "No, listen, McGee, I'm really bored."
Tim half turns to Tony and frowns. "I don't know what you want me to do about that. I can't make the guy show up."
"Tim." Tony lays a hand on Tim's shoulder, punctuating each word with a tap. "Timmy, Tim, Tim, he's not going to show. Not now, not ever. We're gonna find his body floating down the Anacostia or stuffed in a dumpster behind a Dairy Queen or forming the foundations of a school for the blind. They're not letting him out of their sight. No way are they gonna let him come visit his grandma."
"Step-grandma." Tony flings his arms in the air to demonstrate just how ridiculous this whole stakeout is, but manages to forget the roof of the car stands between him and freedom of expression. "Ow!" he exclaims, shaking his vaguely bruised hands and bugging his eyes at Tim. "Okay," he says. "Okay, that's it."
"What?" asks Tim, wary. "What, Tony? Tony, what are you doing?"
What Tony is doing is scrambling over the seats from his side onto Tim's. He grabs Tim's arm to steady himself, twists his body around and flings one leg over Tim's. Their bellies (insubstantial though they are, honest) press flush together.
"Well, hey there, McTim," says Tony with a drawl, a twitch at the corner of his mouth.
"Tony. Tony what are you-? Stop it. Go sit down. I can't even- Tony, I'm warning you. To- Crap." As Tony slithers down Tim's body into the well of the car, Tim presses his lips tight together, his jaw clenched in the familiar way that tells Tony that he's resigned to whatever idiocy Tony's got planned this time. Tony thinks Tim will like this idiocy.
Tony settles between on his knees between Tim's legs, grateful for his partner's neat freak attitude to litter in the car. He grins up at Tim, hands pushing aside his trench coat and heading straight for his belt-buckle.
"Jesus, Tony, we're in public."
"We are in a private vehicle," Tony points out, letting the opened belt drop and moving on to the fly button. "It's dark, we're deliberately parked away from street lights and exactly one car has driven past in the last two hours and forty one minutes. Why d'you think I'm so bored?"
He flicks the button open and unzips Tim's pants, keeping his eyes fixed on Tim's face. Tim swallows convulsively and Tony knows his resistance is so weak a light wind could knock it over. He lifts one of Tim's hands and sucks one of the long, beautiful fingers into his mouth. He strokes the pad of it with his tongue, drawing the finger out slowly, slowly until the tip is resting against his wet lip. He lifts it away and blows gently on it. Tim's eyes are entirely black in the dark. Oh yeah, rubble and dust.
"That's what I thought," he says and slips Tim's dick out of his boxers with practiced ease. He gives it an experimental tug and it swells, resisting the flesh of his palm. "Good to see you're paying attention," he says and splays his free hand across Tim's thigh, letting Tim take his weight and hold his balance as he dips his head down and sucks Tim in.
Tim's thigh tenses, the muscle hard and unyielding under Tony's palm. There's a scrabbling noise that Tony recognizes from the many times he's been in the passenger seat with Ziva driving--sometimes you've just gotta hold on. At least this is going to be a smooth ride.
He forms a loose ring around the base of Tim's dick with forefinger and thumb and sucks soft-hard-soft at the head. It's never failed him yet, and right on cue Tim swells some more and Tony can't help but smile around Tim's dick at the way the circle of his fingers is forced into a broken loop. There's something weirdly satisfying about it, that he can do this to Tim, turn him on, make him hard, make him want so much that his knuckles whiten. It tugs at him twice, answering him blood for blood, in his dick and in his heart.
He moves now, taking Tim deeper, finger-loop tugging upwards until it meets his lips and then back again, motion mirroring motion. He sees flashes of movement out of the corner of his eye as Tim's hand spasms against the edge of the seat. It's hard to feel bored when you're making your boyfriend forget pretty much everything he knows. And he knows a lot.
Tony shifts a little from knee to knee, his own arousal making his not exactly comfortable position a couple of degrees trickier. It's okay, though. He can wait. Tim is a warm weight in Tony's mouth, his shallow breathing the best soundtrack Tony knows, and it's all Tony wants right now. He may still have impulse control issues but it's not all about his own gratification these days.
He tastes bitter in his mouth and swallows around it. Tim jerks and it's only Tony's hand holding him down that keeps him from braining Tony with a badly-placed knee.
There's a broken stream of words in a voice that's cracked and dry and this, whatever they're calling it--fucking, having sex, making love-- this is the only time Tim's totally lost to sense. And it's for Tony. Because of him. He's never getting over that.
He flicks his tongue over the slit of Tim's dick and feels Tim swell again, hardening even more beneath his hand, which should be impossible, but if anyone's going to break the laws of physics for sex it's McGee. Tony doesn't need Tim to tell him he's close, even if he could formulate real words he can read Tim's body better than any book. He tightens his grip and flicks his tongue again.
Tim comes with a quiet sigh and a muffled thump as he punches the door with the side of his hand. Tony swallows it down, letting Tim soften in his mouth before he pulls off. He keeps a hold of Tim's dick and grins up at him, cleaning off the corners of his mouth with finger and thumb. Oh he's the cat that got the cream, all right. And the extra protein, too.
He tucks Tim away, fastening him up and patting the belt buckle--job well done--and then leans his elbows on Tim's knees, chin on his hands, watching Tim come back from wherever the orgasm hurricane landed him this time. He's definitely not in Kansas any more.
Tim looks at him from under lidded eyes, chest rising and falling slower and slower. He reaches out and...clips Tony around the ear.
"Hey! What's that for? I just rocked your world. Or at least the car."
"And thank you for that. Really. Are you done with public indecency now?"
Tony attempts to flutter his eyelashes. It's possible he looks like he's being attacked by bees.
"I'll take that as a yes. And are you done being bored?"
"Let me see," says Tony, drawing out the words. "Is the shift finished yet?"
"Hmmm," says Tony. "What could I do in seven minutes to keep boredom at bay?"
"You could move before you permanently turn my knees into molds for your surprisingly pointy elbows."
"I could totally do that," Tony agrees cheerfully, and stays right where he is.
"Any time now," says Tim. "Aaaaany time at all."
"Oh!" says Tony. "I just had an idea."