"Proposal" - Tony/Ziva and just a hint of smut this time...
Yes, I still owe you folks a bunch of replies. Sorry about that. I will get back to that, promise. In the meantime...
disclaimer: Not mine. Just borrowed them for play. Put them back where they belong.
setting: NCIS, throughout 7x22 "Borderland". This is a companion piece to "With Benefits" - the same night, just Ziva's point of view. If you're only in this for the smut, stick to WB. If you want a back story on why that whole thing happened at all and a bridge to the mood of "Over Troubled Water", read on. And okay, yes, there is a bit of smut sprinkled on top, though not quite as gratuitous as in its sister piece. ;)
word count: around 3,700
comments & feedback: very much appreciated.
Proposal
It all began the morning Tony started to seriously make an ass out of himself.
He did that quite often, to be honest, but today, he seemed prone to asshattery on a whole new level, with him trying to entice random strangers into being swept off their feet by the (spectacularly failing) DiNozzo charm.
It was annoying, it was vaguely amusing, but above all it turned out to be... liberating, for lack of a better word.
"Come on!" he yelled at the screen in frustration, and she grinned. He didn't even notice her coming up beside him, and she felt the urge to ruffle his hair, just to upset him that tiny bit more. It felt as inevitable as a reflex then, a remnant of old times, and she jumped him, grabbing his shoulder and invading his privacy. She didn't think about it at all when it happened, and it felt too good to question it later, even after he had shoved her away in annoyance.
It happened all so casually, and that made it good.
They had been tip-toeing their way around each other ever since he had dragged her home from Africa. It sometimes seemed to her like he had known quite well what she had meant to him when he had thought she was dead, but now that he had her back, he wasn't sure what to do with her and how to treat her. And because he wasn't sure yet, she mirrored him.
They had slowly found their way back to treating each other with something that resembled their former status over the past months, and on most days, it even looked like nothing was wrong in the world to everyone else. She had met his gaze once too often in unguarded moments, though, to find him as uncomfortable with the situation as she was. To have him shy back at the very last moment from what could become a casual touch. To bite back a snide remark that was just this side of personal, as she had done herself often, because things just weren't as easy as they had been one year ago, and they both had somehow lost the feel for what was acceptable and what would strike deep instead.
But not this time. This time, she was just the annoying sister again that pounced her cocky brother just to irritate him, and he brushed her away, tangling his fingers into her hair for a second unintentionally. Without giving it a second thought, without any deeper meaning to it. Without controlling his hands and pulling back at the last moment because it didn't feel appropriate anymore.
Her heart was pounding away after that, and she couldn't keep an intoxicating giddiness from rising inside her, even after Gibbs interrupted their little game and made them focus on the case.
For the first time in a long while, she felt good. She felt... normal.
*** *** ***
It was like that first moment had loosened some tension they both had known was there, but chosen to ignore. Tony kept touching her after that, apparently just as comfortable with having her in his personal space again as she was, and each time it happened, she felt her world settle a little more firmly around its axis. She didn't flinch any longer, and she found that she didn't mind the touch of his hands or the feel of his arm around her back. Not at all.
"I've lost my mojo," she heard him later murmur in the bar while the bikers scattered, not reacting to his speech, and that made her narrow her eyes and watch him carefully. She'd have to tell him that he hadn't, really. That his... 'mojo' was, as far as she was concerned, just fine. That, maybe, he was just directing it towards the wrong people.
She frowned slightly, filing the thought away. Telling him - that was something they both weren't too good at. She'd have to figure out a way to show him, then. Show him how much of the Tony she valued so much, the one that always had her back, was still in there, and how little that part of him needed the silly chats.
*** *** ***
Despite the touching that seemed to work wonders for her, her partner's mood didn't improve over the day, and Ziva watched him get more and more annoyed with the world and everyone populating it. The peak of the DiNozzo drama came when she followed him into the cafeteria just in time to witness his assault on one of the vending machines.
"My, the aggression," she teased, and he squared his shoulders and clenched his jaw at her playful tone. She was almost sorry for mocking him, but that lasted only until he turned around and answered her the obnoxious way he always did.
And yet, there was something else underneath his numerous layers of annoyance. Some tension that had been building up for a while now, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. He felt itchy, restless, and... oh my.
Could it really be that simple?
He almost choked on his coffee when she tested the waters, and that confirmed her suspicion rather spectacularly.
"Are you honestly asking me if I jerk off?" he said incredulously, and that made her draw back, her pulse thundering in her ears because that had been one careless step too far, and it had shifted the easy balance and taken their dynamic right back into unfamiliar territory.
She did follow the expected routine of teasing him, but even while she leaned back against the vending machine, she felt something switch in the way he looked at her, and his attention shifted focus while his eyes slid over her... in a not very brotherly way. And then his own eyes narrowed, and he came over to where she stood, leaning into her until his spicy scent distracted her even more.
"I don't," he answered her question, and the low voice he used, so close to her ear, made her skin tighten deliciously even before she took in the meaning of what he had just said.
He didn't? No pleasuring himself, even under pressure? Now that was... unexpected, actually.
She turned her head slightly, listening intently to his monologue on why he didn't, and her pulse picked up more speed while he spoke. His voice was so soft, so intimate against her cheek, and she felt the tiny hairs on her arms rise with each word. Her body perked up in sudden interest, and she blinked, trying to focus. This was not the moment to get distracted.
She took in his words, rolling them around in her head, and she found that, strangely, she understood his reasoning. It made a lot of sense, especially when Anthony DiNozzo was concerned. And yes, it also reminded her own body that it had begun to feel rather neglected, too, for a few reasons that were very similar and a few others that were not at all.
The few dates she'd had lately had gone nowhere because there was just no spark rising in her, no interest beyond a dinner shared, for reasons she refused to look deeper into. And taking matters into her own hand felt... strangely different these days, for some reason. It really wasn't the same, he was right about that. It hadn't been, ever since Africa.
Touching herself just didn't produce worthwhile results anymore. It was a bit like her body had forgotten what was supposed to be pleasurable and what not, and yes, there were reasons for that she didn't want to dwell upon, but for the moment, it was enough to agree with Tony's definition of it being like tickling yourself. It just didn't work because one's own head wouldn't shut up.
She found that he had stopped talking a few moments ago, and she hadn't noticed it until she saw him stare down at her, at her mouth. Her lips prickled from the weight of his gaze, and it was tempting to answer him honestly when he threw the question back at her, clearly curious and a little beyond.
She did what he usually did in these situations, though - she deflected. It seemed easier to leave this talk on a teasing note, even though it left the winner of this round unclear.
It turned out that he was too good an investigator, after all, because he saw through her smoke screen easily enough. Then again, maybe he just knew her a little too well.
*** *** ***
The mirror showed her a more or less accurate picture of herself, and she knew what to expect, of course. She knew her body's curves and angles. She knew the surprisingly few scars. She knew the beauty marks and the old tattoo, too. And yet, even with all she knew, it sometimes felt like looking at a stranger.
She closed her eyes, running a hand down her chest and belly experimentally, trying out how it would feel today, and it ended up being clinical, unemotional. With a sigh, she shook her head and stepped into the shower. There were so few moments lately when her body came alive for her. Like today, when Tony...
Ziva blinked, surprised at the sudden interested little shudder running through her. Oh, right, now you want to cooperate?
It was tempting to just ignore the moment for the sake of sanity, and she was tempted to just go back to the quick, cleansing shower she'd had in mind originally. And then she bit her lip, directing her thoughts back to the moment in the cafeteria when he had leaned into her. When his breath and his words had felt heavy against her cheek. The memory was almost enough to make her imagine him pressing her up against the vending machine and not only telling her what he liked to do, but showing her in great detail.
Her skin tightened, and she tilted her head back, letting the cool water run over her face.
He would show her if she asked insistently enough, that much she was sure about. His eyes had betrayed him, and not just today.
And then the thought hit her that maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all. It would make him feel better, too... him and his 'mojo'. It would most certainly make her feel a lot better, if it ended up the way she thought it might.
Her hesitation fled as soon as it had reared its head, and she reached for her razor and started shaving.
It was an option. And she could bow out anytime.
At least that was what she told herself.
*** *** ***
She also told herself that it was merely a practical and pragmatic decision. That they got along well enough when they weren't fighting - and since they were mostly fighting when their frustration got the better of them, this was one way to minimize the anger potential. She mused that if there was one man on the face of the planet with whom something pleasantly uncomplicated like this was possible, it should be Anthony DiNozzo, after all.
She knew that on a certain level she was right in all of these assumptions. So why was she still so nervous now that she fell back into the habit of sucking on her index finger?
The trench coat was cool against her skin, and it was just another sensation that added to her anticipation. She had gone for the thing that was sure to persuade him easily, appealing to his fondness for a very classic movie style when choosing the outfit... if one could call it that. She didn't look naked, but she felt it, very much, and the spring air licking along her bare legs didn't help to clear her head.
A shadow moved behind the window that she knew was his, and her body reacted with a curious little shudder. She wondered if he was ready to go to sleep yet. If she would disturb him when she knocked at his door now. If she should disturb him, after all.
This whole idea suddenly sounded so much like madness that it made her head spin. And yet... there was that distinct spark of excitement again, making her press her thighs together while her breath picked up speed.
His shadow stopped moving, and her phone went off just when she contemplated ducking away before he could see her. She flinched at the ring tone, feeling caught doing something inappropriate, and the thought left her shaking her head at herself. How much more inappropriate could one get, watching her partner's apartment, wearing nothing but a trench coat...?
His voice was a low caress against her ear, and the way he spoke made another shudder of the good kind run down her back. For a second she wondered if only hearing him murmur meaningless nothings into her ear would be enough, and the thought made her blush furiously.
"What kind of proposal?" she heard him ask, and he sounded as if he already knew. And maybe he did. He always seemed to know, somehow.
She felt dizzy, and while he waited for her to answer his question, her throat tightened. This was the moment of decision, to either turn back cowardly, like one of them always did at the very last moment, or to go forward, after all.
Her pulse thundered harshly in her ears while she pondered driving back to her own apartment alone, slipping on her pajamas and climbing into an empty bed, punching her pillow until it surrendered to her frustration.
She could do that, of course. And it wouldn't change the fact that it would leave her as itchy as he was. That she would still need someone else to flip the switch for her. That, currently, one certain Special Agent seemed to be the best potential flipswitcher her mind and her body could agree upon.
"I'll be right up," she said.
*** *** ***
His eyes darkened when he opened the door for her, and the way he let his eyes travel down her body was enough to make a delicious little shudder run through Ziva's body. Apparently she had chosen the right clothes for a speedy downfall.
She had to admit that he looked delectable himself, wearing only a pair of sweatpants and a darkish hint of stubble. She was so used to seeing him in his suits these days that she had almost forgotten how good he looked when he dressed casual... not just good, actually, but downright dangerous.
"Hey," he said, stepping aside to let her in.
She brushed past him, and for a second she was tempted to run her fingertips across his stomach, feeling the taut muscle underneath the soft fur. She caught herself just in time, turning her wrist so that only the sleeve of her coat tickled his skin. Even that was enough to produce a ripple of goose bumps, though, and she watched in fascination as his flat nipples hardened in response to the fleeting touch. If it turned out to be this easy...
When he asked for her coat, she was more than tempted for a second.
*** *** ***
The moment his hand closed around her ankle, she felt her heart hammering away in her throat, and she wondered for the first time just what she was doing here, what lapse in sanity had brought her to her partner's apartment barely dressed and offering... whatever it actually was that she had been offering. She wasn't sure about her motives anymore.
She certainly hadn't expected to see Tony like this at the end of the day - kneeling between her legs, his fingers still stroking her ankle that was now resting high on his shoulder. His broad chest, hard and impossibly tense, heaved with barely controlled arousal while he leaned over her and watched her intently, and she was tempted to reach out for him and run her nails over his skin.
She moved her fingers faster between her legs when he met her eyes, urging her on with just a gaze and a gentle tap of his fingers against the skin of her calf. It made her close her eyes, and she moaned, trying to keep her body from pressing against his shamelessly. It would be so much easier to give in...
And then his lips were on her skin suddenly, hot, scorching her thigh, and she gasped, almost losing it right then and there. She felt his shudder at her heated reaction, and she almost expected him to draw back again to a safe distance. Then his mouth moved lower, and when he put his talented tongue into play, Ziva learned that it was shamefully easy for him to reduce her to begging.
*** *** ***
She watched him, his hand slowly stroking himself, and her mouth was dry. She had never seen him completely naked before, let alone that hard and hungry for her, and the sight left her biting her lip and moving her fingers faster on herself.
And it was nice, but it just wasn't the same, and while she watched him get off, all she really wanted to do was feel him again. Her own hand wasn't nearly as good as when his mouth had sucked her and his tongue had been inside her and she had begged him not to stop.
If I don't, this goes somewhere we didn't agree upon.
So what if it did? So what if they hadn't agreed on this sort of contact before? There was always an opportunity to change the rules of a game. Playing it like this was a waste. It was like trying to have fun by not having all that could be had.
His face was a mixture of need and shock when she straddled him, and she felt him twitch against her thigh as she moved closer. He gasped when she wrapped her fingers around his cock, and judging by the grunt coming from deep in his throat, he preferred that to his own hand, too. He tried to fight it, tried to reason this out, but just like Ziva, he soon lost to the overwhelming intensity of it all, and so he drew her closer instead of pushing her away, helping her move against his body with strong hands.
His mouth found her breast then, sucking her nipple hard, and that made Ziva lose the rhythm and shudder against him, her hands grasping his shoulders and flexing against his chest uncontrollably. It sent a fresh wave of need rushing through her, and she moaned, falling into his embrace.
And in this moment of weakness, he kissed her.
She froze in his arms when his tongue pushed into her mouth, tasting her deeply, and then he suddenly stopped, too, realizing what they had just done. Her lips burned, still pressed against his, but not moving because she wasn't sure what would happen then.
Her heart started pounding away loudly in her chest, and her eyes widened to match the shock on Tony's face. With one simple touch of lips, this had gone beyond any game, anything that was mere pleasure, and it had turned into much more than either of them had bargained for.
And after a lifetime, something else happened, and his hand tightened on her neck as he moaned and closed his eyes. "God, Ziva, please, move," he whispered heatedly against her lips, and she felt her own eyes flutter shut at the rough urgency in his voice. And then he added the thing to undo her, saying, "I need you."
And just like that, that made her fall back into the kiss as if he had snapped his fingers, and his mouth took hers eagerly, skillfully, making her forget whatever it was that had distracted her in the first place.
He made an almost obscene sound of lust when she sank down on him, and his hands, clenching down hard on her hips, distracted her again, but this time, it was only for the fraction of a second because now that they had crossed the final unthinkable line of intimacy, she was no longer confused. She knew her way, and she knew what to do.
And apparently, so did he.
*** *** ***
His breath against the curve of her neck brought her back to some semblance of reality, and she wanted to slap herself for letting herself get sidetracked so easily, for losing herself in what his embrace seemed to offer, without thinking twice about where this would leave them. His hand, running down her back and through her hair tirelessly, reminded her, loud and clear, why it had happened, but that didn't make the situation any better.
This wasn't good. At all.
She tried to draw away and shove what had happened back into the neat little context of a game, of a favor among friends, and it almost worked for her. Until she met his eyes and saw the same insecurity and fascination that she felt coiled up deep in her own belly. And just like Tony, she suddenly felt itchy because this was the moment to run, usually, and with him, she just couldn't do that. She had tried running from him, after all, and it hadn't worked once.
He of all people teased her gently now about her urge to flee the 'scene of the crime', and he tried to keep the conversation lighthearted, even though he asked for something so serious. And for some reason unknown to herself, Ziva felt gentle enough to go along with it. To, eventually, agree to and acknowledge what had just happened between them.
Maybe that weird gentleness, their own way of treating each other when no one else was looking, was the real reason why that night a relationship was begun by two people who usually abhorred the word.
Maybe, though, it was just the good sex after all.
*** *** ***
continued in 'Over Troubled Water'
.
disclaimer: Not mine. Just borrowed them for play. Put them back where they belong.
setting: NCIS, throughout 7x22 "Borderland". This is a companion piece to "With Benefits" - the same night, just Ziva's point of view. If you're only in this for the smut, stick to WB. If you want a back story on why that whole thing happened at all and a bridge to the mood of "Over Troubled Water", read on. And okay, yes, there is a bit of smut sprinkled on top, though not quite as gratuitous as in its sister piece. ;)
word count: around 3,700
comments & feedback: very much appreciated.
Proposal
It all began the morning Tony started to seriously make an ass out of himself.
He did that quite often, to be honest, but today, he seemed prone to asshattery on a whole new level, with him trying to entice random strangers into being swept off their feet by the (spectacularly failing) DiNozzo charm.
It was annoying, it was vaguely amusing, but above all it turned out to be... liberating, for lack of a better word.
"Come on!" he yelled at the screen in frustration, and she grinned. He didn't even notice her coming up beside him, and she felt the urge to ruffle his hair, just to upset him that tiny bit more. It felt as inevitable as a reflex then, a remnant of old times, and she jumped him, grabbing his shoulder and invading his privacy. She didn't think about it at all when it happened, and it felt too good to question it later, even after he had shoved her away in annoyance.
It happened all so casually, and that made it good.
They had been tip-toeing their way around each other ever since he had dragged her home from Africa. It sometimes seemed to her like he had known quite well what she had meant to him when he had thought she was dead, but now that he had her back, he wasn't sure what to do with her and how to treat her. And because he wasn't sure yet, she mirrored him.
They had slowly found their way back to treating each other with something that resembled their former status over the past months, and on most days, it even looked like nothing was wrong in the world to everyone else. She had met his gaze once too often in unguarded moments, though, to find him as uncomfortable with the situation as she was. To have him shy back at the very last moment from what could become a casual touch. To bite back a snide remark that was just this side of personal, as she had done herself often, because things just weren't as easy as they had been one year ago, and they both had somehow lost the feel for what was acceptable and what would strike deep instead.
But not this time. This time, she was just the annoying sister again that pounced her cocky brother just to irritate him, and he brushed her away, tangling his fingers into her hair for a second unintentionally. Without giving it a second thought, without any deeper meaning to it. Without controlling his hands and pulling back at the last moment because it didn't feel appropriate anymore.
Her heart was pounding away after that, and she couldn't keep an intoxicating giddiness from rising inside her, even after Gibbs interrupted their little game and made them focus on the case.
For the first time in a long while, she felt good. She felt... normal.
*** *** ***
It was like that first moment had loosened some tension they both had known was there, but chosen to ignore. Tony kept touching her after that, apparently just as comfortable with having her in his personal space again as she was, and each time it happened, she felt her world settle a little more firmly around its axis. She didn't flinch any longer, and she found that she didn't mind the touch of his hands or the feel of his arm around her back. Not at all.
"I've lost my mojo," she heard him later murmur in the bar while the bikers scattered, not reacting to his speech, and that made her narrow her eyes and watch him carefully. She'd have to tell him that he hadn't, really. That his... 'mojo' was, as far as she was concerned, just fine. That, maybe, he was just directing it towards the wrong people.
She frowned slightly, filing the thought away. Telling him - that was something they both weren't too good at. She'd have to figure out a way to show him, then. Show him how much of the Tony she valued so much, the one that always had her back, was still in there, and how little that part of him needed the silly chats.
*** *** ***
Despite the touching that seemed to work wonders for her, her partner's mood didn't improve over the day, and Ziva watched him get more and more annoyed with the world and everyone populating it. The peak of the DiNozzo drama came when she followed him into the cafeteria just in time to witness his assault on one of the vending machines.
"My, the aggression," she teased, and he squared his shoulders and clenched his jaw at her playful tone. She was almost sorry for mocking him, but that lasted only until he turned around and answered her the obnoxious way he always did.
And yet, there was something else underneath his numerous layers of annoyance. Some tension that had been building up for a while now, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. He felt itchy, restless, and... oh my.
Could it really be that simple?
He almost choked on his coffee when she tested the waters, and that confirmed her suspicion rather spectacularly.
"Are you honestly asking me if I jerk off?" he said incredulously, and that made her draw back, her pulse thundering in her ears because that had been one careless step too far, and it had shifted the easy balance and taken their dynamic right back into unfamiliar territory.
She did follow the expected routine of teasing him, but even while she leaned back against the vending machine, she felt something switch in the way he looked at her, and his attention shifted focus while his eyes slid over her... in a not very brotherly way. And then his own eyes narrowed, and he came over to where she stood, leaning into her until his spicy scent distracted her even more.
"I don't," he answered her question, and the low voice he used, so close to her ear, made her skin tighten deliciously even before she took in the meaning of what he had just said.
He didn't? No pleasuring himself, even under pressure? Now that was... unexpected, actually.
She turned her head slightly, listening intently to his monologue on why he didn't, and her pulse picked up more speed while he spoke. His voice was so soft, so intimate against her cheek, and she felt the tiny hairs on her arms rise with each word. Her body perked up in sudden interest, and she blinked, trying to focus. This was not the moment to get distracted.
She took in his words, rolling them around in her head, and she found that, strangely, she understood his reasoning. It made a lot of sense, especially when Anthony DiNozzo was concerned. And yes, it also reminded her own body that it had begun to feel rather neglected, too, for a few reasons that were very similar and a few others that were not at all.
The few dates she'd had lately had gone nowhere because there was just no spark rising in her, no interest beyond a dinner shared, for reasons she refused to look deeper into. And taking matters into her own hand felt... strangely different these days, for some reason. It really wasn't the same, he was right about that. It hadn't been, ever since Africa.
Touching herself just didn't produce worthwhile results anymore. It was a bit like her body had forgotten what was supposed to be pleasurable and what not, and yes, there were reasons for that she didn't want to dwell upon, but for the moment, it was enough to agree with Tony's definition of it being like tickling yourself. It just didn't work because one's own head wouldn't shut up.
She found that he had stopped talking a few moments ago, and she hadn't noticed it until she saw him stare down at her, at her mouth. Her lips prickled from the weight of his gaze, and it was tempting to answer him honestly when he threw the question back at her, clearly curious and a little beyond.
She did what he usually did in these situations, though - she deflected. It seemed easier to leave this talk on a teasing note, even though it left the winner of this round unclear.
It turned out that he was too good an investigator, after all, because he saw through her smoke screen easily enough. Then again, maybe he just knew her a little too well.
*** *** ***
The mirror showed her a more or less accurate picture of herself, and she knew what to expect, of course. She knew her body's curves and angles. She knew the surprisingly few scars. She knew the beauty marks and the old tattoo, too. And yet, even with all she knew, it sometimes felt like looking at a stranger.
She closed her eyes, running a hand down her chest and belly experimentally, trying out how it would feel today, and it ended up being clinical, unemotional. With a sigh, she shook her head and stepped into the shower. There were so few moments lately when her body came alive for her. Like today, when Tony...
Ziva blinked, surprised at the sudden interested little shudder running through her. Oh, right, now you want to cooperate?
It was tempting to just ignore the moment for the sake of sanity, and she was tempted to just go back to the quick, cleansing shower she'd had in mind originally. And then she bit her lip, directing her thoughts back to the moment in the cafeteria when he had leaned into her. When his breath and his words had felt heavy against her cheek. The memory was almost enough to make her imagine him pressing her up against the vending machine and not only telling her what he liked to do, but showing her in great detail.
Her skin tightened, and she tilted her head back, letting the cool water run over her face.
He would show her if she asked insistently enough, that much she was sure about. His eyes had betrayed him, and not just today.
And then the thought hit her that maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all. It would make him feel better, too... him and his 'mojo'. It would most certainly make her feel a lot better, if it ended up the way she thought it might.
Her hesitation fled as soon as it had reared its head, and she reached for her razor and started shaving.
It was an option. And she could bow out anytime.
At least that was what she told herself.
*** *** ***
She also told herself that it was merely a practical and pragmatic decision. That they got along well enough when they weren't fighting - and since they were mostly fighting when their frustration got the better of them, this was one way to minimize the anger potential. She mused that if there was one man on the face of the planet with whom something pleasantly uncomplicated like this was possible, it should be Anthony DiNozzo, after all.
She knew that on a certain level she was right in all of these assumptions. So why was she still so nervous now that she fell back into the habit of sucking on her index finger?
The trench coat was cool against her skin, and it was just another sensation that added to her anticipation. She had gone for the thing that was sure to persuade him easily, appealing to his fondness for a very classic movie style when choosing the outfit... if one could call it that. She didn't look naked, but she felt it, very much, and the spring air licking along her bare legs didn't help to clear her head.
A shadow moved behind the window that she knew was his, and her body reacted with a curious little shudder. She wondered if he was ready to go to sleep yet. If she would disturb him when she knocked at his door now. If she should disturb him, after all.
This whole idea suddenly sounded so much like madness that it made her head spin. And yet... there was that distinct spark of excitement again, making her press her thighs together while her breath picked up speed.
His shadow stopped moving, and her phone went off just when she contemplated ducking away before he could see her. She flinched at the ring tone, feeling caught doing something inappropriate, and the thought left her shaking her head at herself. How much more inappropriate could one get, watching her partner's apartment, wearing nothing but a trench coat...?
His voice was a low caress against her ear, and the way he spoke made another shudder of the good kind run down her back. For a second she wondered if only hearing him murmur meaningless nothings into her ear would be enough, and the thought made her blush furiously.
"What kind of proposal?" she heard him ask, and he sounded as if he already knew. And maybe he did. He always seemed to know, somehow.
She felt dizzy, and while he waited for her to answer his question, her throat tightened. This was the moment of decision, to either turn back cowardly, like one of them always did at the very last moment, or to go forward, after all.
Her pulse thundered harshly in her ears while she pondered driving back to her own apartment alone, slipping on her pajamas and climbing into an empty bed, punching her pillow until it surrendered to her frustration.
She could do that, of course. And it wouldn't change the fact that it would leave her as itchy as he was. That she would still need someone else to flip the switch for her. That, currently, one certain Special Agent seemed to be the best potential flipswitcher her mind and her body could agree upon.
"I'll be right up," she said.
*** *** ***
His eyes darkened when he opened the door for her, and the way he let his eyes travel down her body was enough to make a delicious little shudder run through Ziva's body. Apparently she had chosen the right clothes for a speedy downfall.
She had to admit that he looked delectable himself, wearing only a pair of sweatpants and a darkish hint of stubble. She was so used to seeing him in his suits these days that she had almost forgotten how good he looked when he dressed casual... not just good, actually, but downright dangerous.
"Hey," he said, stepping aside to let her in.
She brushed past him, and for a second she was tempted to run her fingertips across his stomach, feeling the taut muscle underneath the soft fur. She caught herself just in time, turning her wrist so that only the sleeve of her coat tickled his skin. Even that was enough to produce a ripple of goose bumps, though, and she watched in fascination as his flat nipples hardened in response to the fleeting touch. If it turned out to be this easy...
When he asked for her coat, she was more than tempted for a second.
*** *** ***
The moment his hand closed around her ankle, she felt her heart hammering away in her throat, and she wondered for the first time just what she was doing here, what lapse in sanity had brought her to her partner's apartment barely dressed and offering... whatever it actually was that she had been offering. She wasn't sure about her motives anymore.
She certainly hadn't expected to see Tony like this at the end of the day - kneeling between her legs, his fingers still stroking her ankle that was now resting high on his shoulder. His broad chest, hard and impossibly tense, heaved with barely controlled arousal while he leaned over her and watched her intently, and she was tempted to reach out for him and run her nails over his skin.
She moved her fingers faster between her legs when he met her eyes, urging her on with just a gaze and a gentle tap of his fingers against the skin of her calf. It made her close her eyes, and she moaned, trying to keep her body from pressing against his shamelessly. It would be so much easier to give in...
And then his lips were on her skin suddenly, hot, scorching her thigh, and she gasped, almost losing it right then and there. She felt his shudder at her heated reaction, and she almost expected him to draw back again to a safe distance. Then his mouth moved lower, and when he put his talented tongue into play, Ziva learned that it was shamefully easy for him to reduce her to begging.
*** *** ***
She watched him, his hand slowly stroking himself, and her mouth was dry. She had never seen him completely naked before, let alone that hard and hungry for her, and the sight left her biting her lip and moving her fingers faster on herself.
And it was nice, but it just wasn't the same, and while she watched him get off, all she really wanted to do was feel him again. Her own hand wasn't nearly as good as when his mouth had sucked her and his tongue had been inside her and she had begged him not to stop.
If I don't, this goes somewhere we didn't agree upon.
So what if it did? So what if they hadn't agreed on this sort of contact before? There was always an opportunity to change the rules of a game. Playing it like this was a waste. It was like trying to have fun by not having all that could be had.
His face was a mixture of need and shock when she straddled him, and she felt him twitch against her thigh as she moved closer. He gasped when she wrapped her fingers around his cock, and judging by the grunt coming from deep in his throat, he preferred that to his own hand, too. He tried to fight it, tried to reason this out, but just like Ziva, he soon lost to the overwhelming intensity of it all, and so he drew her closer instead of pushing her away, helping her move against his body with strong hands.
His mouth found her breast then, sucking her nipple hard, and that made Ziva lose the rhythm and shudder against him, her hands grasping his shoulders and flexing against his chest uncontrollably. It sent a fresh wave of need rushing through her, and she moaned, falling into his embrace.
And in this moment of weakness, he kissed her.
She froze in his arms when his tongue pushed into her mouth, tasting her deeply, and then he suddenly stopped, too, realizing what they had just done. Her lips burned, still pressed against his, but not moving because she wasn't sure what would happen then.
Her heart started pounding away loudly in her chest, and her eyes widened to match the shock on Tony's face. With one simple touch of lips, this had gone beyond any game, anything that was mere pleasure, and it had turned into much more than either of them had bargained for.
And after a lifetime, something else happened, and his hand tightened on her neck as he moaned and closed his eyes. "God, Ziva, please, move," he whispered heatedly against her lips, and she felt her own eyes flutter shut at the rough urgency in his voice. And then he added the thing to undo her, saying, "I need you."
And just like that, that made her fall back into the kiss as if he had snapped his fingers, and his mouth took hers eagerly, skillfully, making her forget whatever it was that had distracted her in the first place.
He made an almost obscene sound of lust when she sank down on him, and his hands, clenching down hard on her hips, distracted her again, but this time, it was only for the fraction of a second because now that they had crossed the final unthinkable line of intimacy, she was no longer confused. She knew her way, and she knew what to do.
And apparently, so did he.
*** *** ***
His breath against the curve of her neck brought her back to some semblance of reality, and she wanted to slap herself for letting herself get sidetracked so easily, for losing herself in what his embrace seemed to offer, without thinking twice about where this would leave them. His hand, running down her back and through her hair tirelessly, reminded her, loud and clear, why it had happened, but that didn't make the situation any better.
This wasn't good. At all.
She tried to draw away and shove what had happened back into the neat little context of a game, of a favor among friends, and it almost worked for her. Until she met his eyes and saw the same insecurity and fascination that she felt coiled up deep in her own belly. And just like Tony, she suddenly felt itchy because this was the moment to run, usually, and with him, she just couldn't do that. She had tried running from him, after all, and it hadn't worked once.
He of all people teased her gently now about her urge to flee the 'scene of the crime', and he tried to keep the conversation lighthearted, even though he asked for something so serious. And for some reason unknown to herself, Ziva felt gentle enough to go along with it. To, eventually, agree to and acknowledge what had just happened between them.
Maybe that weird gentleness, their own way of treating each other when no one else was looking, was the real reason why that night a relationship was begun by two people who usually abhorred the word.
Maybe, though, it was just the good sex after all.
*** *** ***
continued in 'Over Troubled Water'
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