TITLE: Fires Within
AUTHOR: Ashleigh Anpilova
PAIRING: Leroy Jethro Gibbs/Donald 'Ducky' Mallard
SUB-GENRE: Established Relationship
SUMMARY: Ducky knows his beloved so well
DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters, nor am I making any money from them. I merely borrow them from time to time.
Ducky always knew how to calm, soothe, or further ignite Jethro's fire.
Whether it be the fire of anger or of passion, he knew exactly which look, tone, story, touch, caress, kiss to use with his beloved.
In the office he was the one who could calm Gibbs's anger; the one Gibbs went to when he needed to be calmed down. Not that Gibbs would admit to doing that in so many words.
And Ducky would look at him. Saying everything he wished he could say in other ways, with his eyes; saying so much, but promising so much more.
And Ducky would touch him, a gentle, innocent touch; the kind they could get away with in public. The kind of touch that gave so much, and promised so much more.
And Ducky would speak his name, 'Jethro', and it was as if he'd said 'I love you'. His voice would be intimate, heavy with affection, and like the look and the touch, it would begin to calm Gibbs's fire, and give him reassurance of what would come.
And Ducky would always know when to begin one of his rambling stories, and when not to. And when he did begin one, he always knew which one to tell.
These moments meant so much to Gibbs; meant more than he could explain, or even rationalize. But as much as he loved Ducky calming his fires of anger, what he loved more was when his lover further ignited them, while soothing them at the same time. Then things would change.
Ducky's look would become even more intimate and revealing, while not, if Jethro was completely honest, really changing a great deal. Ducky's gaze was always intimate, it always told anyone who cared to look how he felt about Jethro. But once they were alone, the blue eyes would darken in color, becoming more vivid and sparkling, before disappearing as the blue became covered by ebony.
Ducky’s touches would still be gentle, but no longer innocent, they were touches that two men, two people, could not get away with in public. They gave so much, and again promised so much more, and the promise was always met, always fulfilled. Ducky's hands knew Jethro’s body so well; knew just how to caress and stroke, knew how to meet, hold, kindle, and fan Jethro's fire of desire and love.
Ducky’s voice would become more sensual, matching his eyes and his touch. Now he not only said 'Jethro' as a means of saying 'I love you'; he actually said 'I love you, my dearest'. From time to time he would still tell one of his stories, using them as a means of reducing the fire and quenching Jethro's immediate desire. And as in the office, he always knew exactly when Jethro wanted him to tell a story, and when he didn't want his fires calmed.
No other lover had ever managed the dichotomy of simultaneous igniting and calming, but then Jethro had never had a lover like Ducky. Nor would he ever find another like him. Not that he would look, not that he wanted to look, not that he needed to look. Ducky gave him everything he could ever hope to have.
Ducky completed him.