Disclaimer: I'm not Bellesario or CBS for NCIS or Kripke and the CW for Supernatural, so I don't claim to own them.
Fandoms: NCIS; Supernatural
Genre: Slash; Angst
Pairing: Gibbs / John Winchester
Time: Pre-Series for Both
Warnings: Male/Male Sex; Semi-Rough Sex; First Time; Angst
Word Count: 1,822
Beta: avamclean & azraelz_angel
Written For: My own prompt in the ncis_slash Bottom!Gibbs Challenge
Crossposted: ncisfanfic; ncis_fic; ncis_slash; gibbsbasement; sn_crossovers; spn_twisted
Summary: He wanted to close his eyes and not see them, if only for a moment.
"They're gone!" he shouted at the top of his lungs as he pulled back his fist for another round with the wall.
The motion was halted by a strong hand catching his hand that continued by pulling him into an even stronger embrace. He tried to jerk his body away from the contact. He didn't deserve to be alive, let alone have someone show him sympathy. He had failed in his duties as a husband and father, failed to keep them alive. Everything around him was a black void and he knew that nothing would ever fill it again.
"They're gone…" he repeated again in a broken voice that bordered on a sob. Then he felt the dam break within him and he was clinging to the warm body wrapped around his own. "Make it go away. Make this fucking pain go away."
The hands just smoothed over his back and he felt a tickle of breath against his ear. "It'll never go away Gibbs. I fucking know better than anyone else. It will be there every moment of every day. All you can do is redirect it."
"I already killed the bastard. Put a bullet between his eyes. There's nothing to redirect it to, John. Nothing."
"You could always take up that NIS agent's offer and work for them. Or…" the voice trailed off and he looked up at the man that knew pain like his own.
"Or traipse around the country killing demons with you? My demons aren't your demons Winchester. I just want to forget, not close my eyes and see them both looking back at me, expecting me to save them."
"You'll never forget. I still close my eyes and see Mary looking back just before the flames covered her. It'll always be there," and he felt the rap of John's fingers on his head. "But… I can give you something different, something that wasn't her."
He took a deep breath as he realized what John was suggesting. He wasn't opposed to the idea; John was the furthest thing from Shannon that he would ever find. He fisted his hands and looked into the hazel eyes staring intensely at him.
"Someone do that for you? After Mary?"
"Yeah. First night of sleep I got too. They fucked me until I couldn't think straight. Next morning, he showed me that I wasn't crazy when it came to what killed Mary."
"Let's do this," he said in a clipped tone as he moved toward the bed in the dingy motel room he'd been in since killing the bastard three days before. It had taken John that long to track him down and by then it was too late for him to help. Now was his chance to do that, even if he figured nothing could drive the pain away.
He pulled his dirty and wrinkled clothes off as he moved, leaving them in heaps on the floor. He didn't look back at John as he positioned himself on the bed. He folded his arms around a pillow and buried his head into it, dropping his shoulders toward the mattress. This left his ass high in the air as he waited for John to approach.
It didn't take long before his senses told him that John was standing behind him. He tried not to flinch when the first touch of calloused hands came to his ass. He concentrated on the differences. The hands were larger than Shannon, belonged to a man. They weren't gentle. All too soon, the hands were squeezing his flesh as they parted his ass cheeks to reveal his hole. The hands pinched and tugged and even delivered a few slaps that had him burying his head deeper into the pillow below it.
"You tell me when your ready," was the only warning he received before a blunt finger dipped into his hole. He could feel the coolness of something, soap maybe, easing the way. His ass stretched to accommodate the finger fucking him and the slight burn that he felt was a welcomed relief.
It was different from anything he had ever felt before. He could focus everything he had on that finger moving in his body. He could forget everything.
The second finger had barely been added when he growled into the pillow. "Fuck me. Now!"
The fingers left his body and he felt a momentary disorientation as he tried to rationalize what was about to happen. He told himself he wasn't dishonoring Shannon's memory. He told himself he needed some way to get past the pain. He told himself it was the only way. John was offering him a way to focus on something he had never felt, something that would redirect his mind if only for a few moments. He needed this.
Then he felt the head of John's cock at his opening and tried to keep from tensing as the strong hand gripped his hips with a bruising force. "You sure," was whispered one last time and he responded by pushing back onto the waiting cock.
He held his breath as John slid inch by slow inch into his body. He was stretching wider than he ever had been and the burn mixed with the alien feel of something that size pushing into him to drive other thoughts away. His mind narrowed on the tight clench he had around the dick penetrating his ass and he pushed himself back the last inch.
He heard John groan as he felt the slap of the other man's balls against the back of his own. This was something different and he greedily wanted more. He wanted as much as he could get to drive it all away.
"Move!" he ordered and John obeyed.
For several long minutes, all that could be heard was their heavy breathing mixed with the slap of skin on skin as John bottomed out inside him. Then John brushed his prostate and he cried out as pleasure merged with the lingering burn of pain.
He grunted as he felt one the hands leave his hip and wrap itself around his hardening cock. He rocked with the body moving behind him, pushing back into the dick inside him and forward to the hand fisting him.
The hand on his dick wasn't gentle and he was thankful for that. There was no touch that reminded him of Shannon, even in her wildest moment. The entire experience bordered between pain and pleasure and he reveled in it.
He could feel his body responding to the sensations and John tugged and twisted harder on his dick. He pulled the pillow tighter into his face as he felt his balls tighten, ready for release.
"Let it go," was whispered hotly into his sweaty back and he did just that. Streaks of come coated the bedspread and the hand still gripping his cock as he road through his orgasm. His ass clenched around John's cock that was still buried deep inside his body.
As the tremors eased, John removed his hand from his spent cock and he felt it slap against his hip as he was gripped tightly once more. "Hang on," was all he heard before the body behind him moved hard against his own. He was too spent emotionally and physically to respond. He just stayed in position and let John set the grueling pace, as he was fucked long and hard.
John's legs and balls slammed into his own on each thrust and he knew there would be bruises across the backs of his legs for day. He found himself wanting that little bit of pain to linger with the tenderness that was sure to be in his ass. It was give him something to concentrate on anytime his mind wondered to darker thoughts. He could remember that someone still cared enough to help him live, that someone understood what was happening to him.
John was moving faster and grunting harder when he felt the man lean over his back. The hands moved from his hips to wrap tightly around his chest in a bear hug and John gave one last deep thrust into his body. At the same time he felt the warmth fill the condom deep inside his ass, a set of teeth bit down hard on the skin where his neck and shoulder met. He cried out with the man above him and then collapsed to the bed with a strong and heavy weight above him.
He closed his eyes and, for the first time in weeks, didn't see his girls staring back at him with hurt written across their faces.
Sunlight was filtering through the tattered drapes when he cracked his eyes open. He moved slightly and winced when he felt an unfamiliar pain in his ass and a pull on his neck. Then it all slammed back into him and he sucked in a deep breath. He hadn't thought of them and the pain it brought, if only for a split second.
Gingerly, he sat up and rubbed his hand over the bite mark John had left behind. Shannon had never done that. And she had definitely never fucked him. It had been different and it had connected him again. The urge to die, to go to Shannon and Kelly was still there, but it had dulled sometime during the night.
Looking around, he saw the bag John carried was gone; he was both disappointed and relieved at the same time. He wasn't sure he could deal with the man so soon after what they had shared the night before.
Standing up, he made his way to the tiny bathroom to relieve himself. Stepping in, he found a note attached to the mirror with John's scrawl across it. He pulled it down and then focused on his reflection in the mirror.
He almost didn't recognize himself. The man staring back at him had red-rimmed eyes and had seemed to age years within the last few weeks. His blue eyes seemed haunted with the ghosts of his family. Then he saw the bite mark that was already bruising on his neck. It was a sign to live his life, not wallow to death in some Mexican motel with no one around to witness it.
He pulled the note up and read it to himself…
Don't regret last night. It was a buddy helping you out. And I know your demons are different than mine, but you still need a focus. Other men are out there doing the same thing to other families that was done to yours. Take that job at NIS, Gibbs. They need a Marine like you.
He ran a hand over his face and looked back into the mirror. "Special Agent Gibbs," he said quietly. Then he straightened his shoulders and stood at attention, hardening his expression as he said with more firmness, "Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs."