"Tony, I'm not wearing that. That is a fabric this marine is never wearing."

"That is a fabric this marine is wearing. Do you have any idea how long Abby and Mrs. Mallard spent hand sewing this costume just for you?"

"Too damn long, if you ask me."

"Jethro, do it for me. Please?" If he did it, Tony would be a much richer man. He'd have the five thousand he'd win from Abby and the seven from Ducky if he got Jethro to agree to this. "Mrs. Mallard will be heartbroken if you're not wearing it. Are you going to break an old woman's heart?"

"Who is going to tell her? Sure as hell not me."

"She'll be there."

"She'll what? Ducky's letting his nearly hundred year old mother go to one of Abby's famous parties? Is he trying to off her?"

"He isn't. Do you think he can say no to her?" Tony said, unable to hide his grin. "She's gotten a second wind. She made my lead and collar, your costume, has been making penis and breast ice cubes all week. You want to disappoint an old woman at the end of her days?"

Jethro growled. "I will not wear that to one of Abby's parties. Or to anywhere else. Ever."

Tony's mind raced as he tried to study all angles, wondering how to make this happen. He had to make it happen; there was no other choice. Finally, he nodded. "Okay, I'll make a deal. I'll be your slave boy tonight, no shirt, shaved and oiled chest, collar, leather pants, but you have to wear the costume for five minutes, just for Abbs and Mrs. M." Five minutes had been the agreed upon timeframe. Ducky and Abby were so sure Gibbs would never agree to it that they'd put their money where their mouths were.

Tony batted his baby greens. "Would you do that for me, Jethro? Nobody else but the three of us have to see."

Jethro's eyes narrowed, but he actually seemed to be considering it. "What do you want me in for the rest of the night? If I agree. Which I haven't yet."

Tony looked Jethro up and down and gave him a sexy smile. "Polo and chinos won't work for Abby's party. Tight jeans…yeah, painted on jeans, Jethro. Ones that show off your ass. No boxers, just you under the denim." Tony couldn't help the throaty little growl that escaped and he winced, waiting for a headslap that never came. When Gibbs didn't headslap him, he rolled his shoulders, relaxing.

Jethro smirked. "Shirt?"

"That blue silk one. The one that brings out your eyes."

"Nothing outrageous? For one of Abby's clothing-optional parties? At Reston House, no less? You're getting soft, DiNozzo."

"Put the costume on for me. You'll see how hard your slave boy can get, Master."

Jethro pulled Tony close. "You have a spandex fetish or something?"

"Only when it comes to you, Super Stud."

Two hours later, Tony carried Jethro's costume into Ducky's house and put it in the guest room. He'd get Jethro to put it on for the girls and Ducky, then he could relax, a much richer man.

Jethro got sublime pleasure from leading Tony around on a leash, even if it was only for show. Nobody had to know they were equals in bed and at home when he played the submissive role to perfection in public. And Jethro always ate that up.

He found Jethro in the kitchen, sipping coffee while Mrs. Mallard flirted with him. Abby and Ducky were arranging food on plates.

"Showtime. C'mon, Jethro. Sooner you get this done, the sooner you can relax."

"Get what done?" Abby looked hopeful, clapping her hands.

"You'll see."

Tony led Jethro to the spare bedroom, ignoring his lover's grumbles. Jethro stood unresisting as Tony dressed him and adjusted the cape. "There we go, Super Stud."

Tony stepped back, looking at Jethro in the mirror. The red and blue spandex clung to every muscle, almost obscenely cradling Jethro's crotch, and Tony's eyes were immediately drawn to the emblem on the chest— Super Stud in stylized writing. But the best part was the graphic. Two sperm—one a green eyed grinning one and the other blue eyed and scowling— were side by side. The blue eyed one had flicked his tail and it was in motion aimed for the green-eyed one's head.

Gibbs tried to avoid looking in the mirror. This was all some silly game he was doing for Tony's benefit. The costume was silly, the sperm overdone, but it made Tony happy, and Gibbs wasn't the bastard he liked to pretend he was.

Seeing that expression of pure happiness—and lust—on Tony's face was worth the discomfort. And Gibbs would get the benefit of a submissive little slave boy for the rest of the night. It wasn't their normal lives, but these parties allowed them all to act in ways they didn't at home, or at work. And it was one of the few times Gibbs and Tony let their inhibitions take a breather.

"Oh my God, perfect! Ducky! Mom Mallard, you have got to come see this."

Abby! Jethro met her eyes in the mirror and saw something he'd never seen in her eyes before—lust.

Instead of just blushing darkly, Jethro stood a little taller. He could handle this for five minutes.

"Delicious." Was that a hand on his ass? Yes, Ducky's mom had her hands all over his ass. Two, three hands? "My dear, hands off. This is mine."

"Ma'am?" Gibbs tried not to gulp or act nervous. This was about keeping his composure and he could do that.

"Delicious! Oh, Matthew, delicious!" Her hand crept around to his front and Jethro stepped back, meeting Ducky's embarrassed gaze in the mirror.

"No comment, Duck?"

"There aren't words, my dear. There just aren't words." Was Ducky even staring at his crotch in the mirror?

"Five minutes up yet, my little slave?" Gibbs ground out.

"Almost." Tony grinned. "And Jethro, if you want me on my hands and knees all night, after seeing how sexy you are in that, you've got it."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, but this getup is coming off. Now. I've had enough."

"Oh, Matthew, may we watch you change?" Victoria sounded breathless, excited.

Jethro groaned. "This is going to be one hell of a night."

"You said it, Super Stud."

"I'm never going to live this down!"

Gibbs had barely endured the party, Mrs. Mallard leering at him, her heavily made up eyes batting at him. Ducky had smirked his way through the evening and even though Abbs was in her element and flitting with friends, Gibbs was aware that he'd changed in her eyes. A lot. Things would be back to normal at work on Monday, so he could handle it tonight.

And Tony…

He'd made good on his offer of being Gibbs' slave boy for the night, knowing what it would do to Gibbs. He'd done more than shaved his chest—it was baby smooth and soft and Tony had clearly done it days earlier. And probably had it waxed, if Gibbs was correct. Gibbs found himself wondering why he hadn't noticed it beforehand, then he remembered their crazy schedule chasing a case.

When Tony had asked him to oil his chest an hour ago, that little smirk playing around his mouth, Gibbs had eagerly agreed, hands taking the oil and smoothing it over Tony's chest. Tony had been working out, his muscle definition showing in his abs, and Gibbs had spent ten minutes working the oil in and around the dips and valleys.

Tony had already slid and squeezed into the black leather pants Gibbs had insisted on. He'd tried to weasel out of the pants, saying he'd look just as good in a pair of painted on jeans, but Gibbs hadn't gone for that. He wanted Tony in leather, and he was going to have Tony in leather.

Especially after Gibbs had to wear that ridiculous costume in front of Duck and his mother, for God's sake. Abby hadn't been so bad—they'd flirted beforehand and Gibbs didn't mind it usually. It was more innocent than the way she'd been checking him out in the costume and the look of intent in her eyes. But Victoria Mallard was a completely different story. She hadn't been able to keep her eyes off Gibbs, and while he was flattered that he still had it—as Duck and Abby had proved by their assessing looks and smirks—Victoria was about forty years outside his target age range.

"Penny for your thoughts," Tony said, wrenching Gibbs out of his memories of oiling Tony's chest and back to the present—and the party. "Though they must be pretty good thoughts. Those jeans don't hide anything."

Gibbs coughed, blushing darkly and looking down in a reflexive motion. "I'm not—"

"Oh yes you are," Tony said, his voice low and seductive. "I can make out your cock head, Gibbs. Want me to be a very good slave boy and…"

Gibbs gulped hard, knowing his cock was swelling even more now. When he didn't answer, Tony eased himself to his knees, mindful of the restricting nature of the leather on his own crotch, and nuzzled the front of Gibbs' pants.

This was an anything goes and clothing optional party, but Gibbs hardly ever played. He'd let Tony have a second, but he didn't dare do anything more, much as he wanted to grind himself against Tony's face and feed his cock to his lover. As Tony nuzzled his way over the strained denim of Gibbs' pants, Gibbs had to fight the urge to thrust against him.

"Enough, Tony!" When Tony didn't immediately react, Gibbs pulled the leash, seeing the D-ring straining against Tony's throat.

"Awww, Gibbs. You ruin all my fun."

"Later," Gibbs said, in a low voice full of promise. They weren't even doing a lot compared to some at the party, but Gibbs was always mindful of their roles and what could be construed as behavior unbecoming to NCIS. It was a damned good thing that Abby forced everyone to sign confidentiality clauses and took cell phones and cameras at the door. And nobody else from NCIS had come this year.

"Will you wear the costume?" Tony asked, suddenly looking like an eager little puppy.

"Maybe," Gibbs allowed. "That really turned you on, didn't it?"

"Yeah," Tony answered, a breathless and needy hitch in his voice now. "You in all that spandex…God, Gibbs, the way it cupped your cock. Tell me that felt as hot as it looked."

"Don't remember," Gibbs shot back. But he did remember, oh hell, how he remembered. He'd started to get hard from Ducky watching, for God's sake. And he did not find Ducky attractive in the least.

Gibbs swallowed hard and leaned against a wall, watching Tony. "Never knew ya had a spandex fetish."

"Me either," Tony shot back. "But when I saw you in that outfit…"

"Brought forth every Superman fantasy you had?" Gibbs finished with a smirk.

"Maybe," Tony shot back. "Wanna test that out, Super Stud?"

Gibbs hitched a shoulder, trying to remain above it all, though Tony had to know from his shallower breathing that he was getting really turned on by the thought.

"Not here…"

"Hell, no," Tony agreed. "Meet you out in the car. And hands off, that is my present for later." His fingertip only brushed over Gibbs' crotch, the barest of caresses, but Gibbs' whole body jerked into the touch.

"Oh yeah. You want that, don't you?" Tony said, his face alight with want and need—and satisfaction.

"No comment," Gibbs shot back, a naughty grin on his face. "Get our stuff and let's go."

"On it, Super Stud."