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Tony’s eyes closed in pleasure as he pushed the dildo back in, his hips thrusting raggedly as he lost his rhythm. His chest ached with needs he couldn’t meet on his own. He needed to feel a man’s strong body holding him down, taking him roughly. He needed to fight against an opponent he knew he couldn’t beat. He needed to be pushed further than he could take himself.
He thought of his Marine Sergeant, big and burly, challenging him to take the pain, take the release it afforded him. Twisting his nipple sharply, Tony gasped as the charge zinged through him, bringing him closer. He could almost feel the stinging slap of the leather paddle, the strain in his shoulders and wrists from the cuffs that bound him to the wall. He needed the strong hands that held him tight as he raged, safe in the knowledge that no matter how he struggled, those hands wouldn’t let him go.
In the end, it wasn’t the rough-edged pain the Sergeant had given him that pushed him over the top, it was his heavy hand in Tony’s hair, his low, growly voice speaking with quiet assurance as he praised Tony: “You did good tonight, boy. I’m proud of you.”
Tony sobbed as he came, gasping harsh breaths of air into lungs that no longer seemed large enough to give him what he needed.
What he needed. Tony fell back against the rumpled sheets, laughing at the disparities between what he desired and what he needed.
He wanted to see the Sergeant again. But what he needed was that moment of approval, that reassurance that he’d fought hard and done well. That was what he craved, and he sure as hell wasn’t getting it from Gibbs. He wondered where he’d put the Sergeant’s phone number. Maybe it was time to give him a call.