...fic. femslash, Miss Parker/Ziva, 18+
Disclaimer: not mine. rating: 18+
pairing: Miss Parker/Ziva David (The Pretender, NCIS)
Notes: This, er, is a lot longer than what will fit in a comment at the femslash_today porn battle. An abbreviated version appears there. (thanks to Hole for the perfect title)
Prompt: Crossover, NCIS/The Pretender, Ziva/Miss Parker, knife
Use once and destroy
by ALC Punk!
Heat, humidity, plant-life, bug-life, snakes. Oh, the jungle had it all. Parker was so happy to be there. Really. And if she ever got her hands on Sam again, he was a dead man for giving her this crappy lead.
The Mossad contact had failed to appear, and she was fed up with killing the cockroaches in her bed every night.
Heading back into what was laughably considered the best hotel in the tiny town, Parker tried to decide whether it would be easier just to kill Sam or if he should really suffer. Maybe stationed in Antarctica. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of laughter from the bar. It was a hole in the wall, dirt floor, dirtier windows--but the tequila was decent.
Parker decided to have one for the road before heading out.
There was a woman at the bar and a pair of men jabbering and laughing over a game of canasta in the corner. Swell crowd. Parker grabbed the stool next to the woman and held up her hand at the barkeep. "Tequila."
He looked at her blankly, the same way half the populace did. Great. Another non-English speaker. Parker stood, reached across and grabbed the bottle herself. When he made to stop her, she grabbed the front of her shirt. "Tequila."
The woman rattled off something in arabic to him, and he relaxed.
Parker let him go without a backward glance, dropping onto her stool and tipping her head back for a shot straight from the bottle.
"I would go easy, were I you." The english was precise, careful.
Parker slid a sideways glance at the woman, took in the dark eyes and the star of David at her throat, and decided that maybe Sam could live after all. She held out the bottle. "Your shot?"
"My shot. Yes." The woman quirked a smile.
Parker didn't echo it, tilting the bottle to fill the woman's shot before taking another of her own.
"You don't believe in slow?"
Slamming back another shot, Parker let her glance slide over the woman again. She was dressed in dirty fatigues, her hair long and unrestrained. It occurred to her to wonder what the body under the dusty cloth was like. The woman returned the look with interest.
"No." Parker set the bottle down and leaned over to kiss her. "I don't believe in slow."
A soft laugh escaped the woman, then her hand was behind Parker's neck, holding her still. The kiss wasn't a gentle exploration of boundaries and wants. It was a test. Lips searing against each other, bruising and taking all they could. Parker pulled back first, her lips smiling, her eyes dark. The two men had paused in their game and were probably watching them avidly. Not that she cared.
"More tequila?"
Parker stood, picking the bottle up. "Not here."
"I've always wanted to try body shots."
A shiver slid up Parker's spine at the thought of those lips on her skin. She smirked, "No time like the present."
Not bothering to check the woman was following, Parker strode back out into the lobby and headed for her room. The bottle swung easily in one hand, and it was clear no one was going to try to retrieve it.
Once in her room, she stood to the side of the door letting the other woman in. Parker caught the quick glance she sent around the room. Casing it for exits and places of concealment, Parker guess. She was very good, really. Almost too good.
Slamming the door, Parker caught her by the throat, pressing her into the wall. She leaned into her. "What's your name?"
"Ziva."
Perfectly calm, perfectly still. Parker could feel the coiled tension in Ziva's body, though. "I'm very glad to meet you, Ziva."
"Aren't you going to kiss me?"
"Yes."
This one isn't any nicer than the other, but it's the kind of kiss that made Parker want to grind against Ziva.
Ziva took the choice from her, grabbing her hips and pulling her closer. Her fingers worked at the skirt, dragging it up until Parker pulled back.
"On your knees." Parker ordered, voice husky with desire.
And Ziva obeyed, dropping without question to kiss one thigh, then the other. Parker reached out and braced against the wall. Ziva kissed her through the satin underwear that went with the Armani suit and the thigh-high stockings. Parker swallowed her moan of pleasure as Ziva's teeth nip at her.
Ziva's fingers yank the panties to the side, finding her already slick (tequila always did that to her). "Good."
"No talking."
Head tilted back, Ziva watched Parker as she slid a finger into her.
Parker kept her eyes open, gave nothing away. "Harder," she ordered.
"More?" Ziva was almost mocking, but she took Parker by surprise, kissing her belly as two fingers joined the first.
That was more like it. The heat of the jungle pressed against her, smothering her breath until she was panting and writhing under Ziva's fingers and tongue. Parker was determined not to give in easily, and found she couldn't help it. As the orgasm ripped through her, she wondered if Sam might like a nice little bonus this year.
Ziva didn't let up, tongue working over her clit and pussy, until Parker felt a second orgasm start to build. She was going to need a cold shower and a new suit after this. Parker let the thought slip away and tipped her head back as she came again. Her spine popped nicely, her back straightened and her legs tried to tell her they wouldn't hold her up anymore.
Ignoring them, Parker reached down and grabbed Ziva's hair. "Enough."
Disengaging slowly, Ziva looked up at her, then licked her lips. "Are you sure?"
No. But Parker wasn't in the habit of letting her body's desires rule her brain. "We have business." She yanked her skirt down and kicked her panties off.
"Business."
Parker didn't bother looking at her as she busied herself with her case. Yes, there was one still-pressed skirt left. It would have to do for the trip back. "You are Ziva David, Mossad agent--" Parker flashed her a smirk, "--whose turned informant to the United States Navy, are you not?"
There was a knife at her throat two seconds later. Parker ignored it. "You know a little too much."
"Kill me, and you don't get out alive."
"You're here alone."
Parker leaned closer, "Does holding the knife on my throat make you the better killer?"
"What?"
Reaching up, Parker wrapped her hand around Ziva's wrist. "Are you a screamer?"
A shudder seemed to go through Ziva, she pulled her knife away, and sheathed it. "Care to find out?"
"Yes." Parker didn't kiss her, going for the uniform pants without pause. They slid down curvy hips, and Parker stroked a finger across one, noting the lack of underwear.
"I could deafen you at this range."
"Turn around," Parker replied, less an order. But enough of one that Ziva complied, widening her stance. Parker stroked her pussy, tugging at the springy curls.
"You going to play or fuck?" The words are raw-edged with need.
Parker's answer was to press down on Ziva's clit, she felt her hiss at the sensation. She worked fast, fingers sliding in and then out, thumb pressing and circling.
"Better," Ziva said, before pushing back against Parker. "More."
"Greedy," but Parker complied, because she wanted to feel Ziva come, wanted to find out whether she screamed in english or arabic.
It was arabic, dark words that Parker can't quite understand (mandarin was easier), but that spill out with a guttural inflection. Ziva doesn't quite break the sound barrier, though she tried. Parker pulled her fingers free with the last convulsion and wiped them on her thigh.
"Now what?" Ziva was cold again, body still against Parker's, but mind sharp and working against her.
"I do what I was paid to do."
The knife slid into Ziva's belly, and up. And she could feel the warm blood against her fingers.
"You... bitch." Ziva sagged in her arms.
"Always." Pulling the knife free, Parker let Ziva drop to the floor. "Damn." There was blood on one sleeve of her grey blouse.
Ziva glared at her as she changed into fresh clothing. Parker closed her case.
"You will just leave me?"
Parker knelt, leaning in and whispering, "Yes. But it isn't fatal. It's just a warning."
Then she stood and left, leaving the door half-open. Someone would find Ziva shortly. And the wound probably wouldn't be fatal. Probably.
Damn shame, either way.
-f-
pairing: Miss Parker/Ziva David (The Pretender, NCIS)
Notes: This, er, is a lot longer than what will fit in a comment at the femslash_today porn battle. An abbreviated version appears there. (thanks to Hole for the perfect title)
Prompt: Crossover, NCIS/The Pretender, Ziva/Miss Parker, knife
Use once and destroy
by ALC Punk!
Heat, humidity, plant-life, bug-life, snakes. Oh, the jungle had it all. Parker was so happy to be there. Really. And if she ever got her hands on Sam again, he was a dead man for giving her this crappy lead.
The Mossad contact had failed to appear, and she was fed up with killing the cockroaches in her bed every night.
Heading back into what was laughably considered the best hotel in the tiny town, Parker tried to decide whether it would be easier just to kill Sam or if he should really suffer. Maybe stationed in Antarctica. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of laughter from the bar. It was a hole in the wall, dirt floor, dirtier windows--but the tequila was decent.
Parker decided to have one for the road before heading out.
There was a woman at the bar and a pair of men jabbering and laughing over a game of canasta in the corner. Swell crowd. Parker grabbed the stool next to the woman and held up her hand at the barkeep. "Tequila."
He looked at her blankly, the same way half the populace did. Great. Another non-English speaker. Parker stood, reached across and grabbed the bottle herself. When he made to stop her, she grabbed the front of her shirt. "Tequila."
The woman rattled off something in arabic to him, and he relaxed.
Parker let him go without a backward glance, dropping onto her stool and tipping her head back for a shot straight from the bottle.
"I would go easy, were I you." The english was precise, careful.
Parker slid a sideways glance at the woman, took in the dark eyes and the star of David at her throat, and decided that maybe Sam could live after all. She held out the bottle. "Your shot?"
"My shot. Yes." The woman quirked a smile.
Parker didn't echo it, tilting the bottle to fill the woman's shot before taking another of her own.
"You don't believe in slow?"
Slamming back another shot, Parker let her glance slide over the woman again. She was dressed in dirty fatigues, her hair long and unrestrained. It occurred to her to wonder what the body under the dusty cloth was like. The woman returned the look with interest.
"No." Parker set the bottle down and leaned over to kiss her. "I don't believe in slow."
A soft laugh escaped the woman, then her hand was behind Parker's neck, holding her still. The kiss wasn't a gentle exploration of boundaries and wants. It was a test. Lips searing against each other, bruising and taking all they could. Parker pulled back first, her lips smiling, her eyes dark. The two men had paused in their game and were probably watching them avidly. Not that she cared.
"More tequila?"
Parker stood, picking the bottle up. "Not here."
"I've always wanted to try body shots."
A shiver slid up Parker's spine at the thought of those lips on her skin. She smirked, "No time like the present."
Not bothering to check the woman was following, Parker strode back out into the lobby and headed for her room. The bottle swung easily in one hand, and it was clear no one was going to try to retrieve it.
Once in her room, she stood to the side of the door letting the other woman in. Parker caught the quick glance she sent around the room. Casing it for exits and places of concealment, Parker guess. She was very good, really. Almost too good.
Slamming the door, Parker caught her by the throat, pressing her into the wall. She leaned into her. "What's your name?"
"Ziva."
Perfectly calm, perfectly still. Parker could feel the coiled tension in Ziva's body, though. "I'm very glad to meet you, Ziva."
"Aren't you going to kiss me?"
"Yes."
This one isn't any nicer than the other, but it's the kind of kiss that made Parker want to grind against Ziva.
Ziva took the choice from her, grabbing her hips and pulling her closer. Her fingers worked at the skirt, dragging it up until Parker pulled back.
"On your knees." Parker ordered, voice husky with desire.
And Ziva obeyed, dropping without question to kiss one thigh, then the other. Parker reached out and braced against the wall. Ziva kissed her through the satin underwear that went with the Armani suit and the thigh-high stockings. Parker swallowed her moan of pleasure as Ziva's teeth nip at her.
Ziva's fingers yank the panties to the side, finding her already slick (tequila always did that to her). "Good."
"No talking."
Head tilted back, Ziva watched Parker as she slid a finger into her.
Parker kept her eyes open, gave nothing away. "Harder," she ordered.
"More?" Ziva was almost mocking, but she took Parker by surprise, kissing her belly as two fingers joined the first.
That was more like it. The heat of the jungle pressed against her, smothering her breath until she was panting and writhing under Ziva's fingers and tongue. Parker was determined not to give in easily, and found she couldn't help it. As the orgasm ripped through her, she wondered if Sam might like a nice little bonus this year.
Ziva didn't let up, tongue working over her clit and pussy, until Parker felt a second orgasm start to build. She was going to need a cold shower and a new suit after this. Parker let the thought slip away and tipped her head back as she came again. Her spine popped nicely, her back straightened and her legs tried to tell her they wouldn't hold her up anymore.
Ignoring them, Parker reached down and grabbed Ziva's hair. "Enough."
Disengaging slowly, Ziva looked up at her, then licked her lips. "Are you sure?"
No. But Parker wasn't in the habit of letting her body's desires rule her brain. "We have business." She yanked her skirt down and kicked her panties off.
"Business."
Parker didn't bother looking at her as she busied herself with her case. Yes, there was one still-pressed skirt left. It would have to do for the trip back. "You are Ziva David, Mossad agent--" Parker flashed her a smirk, "--whose turned informant to the United States Navy, are you not?"
There was a knife at her throat two seconds later. Parker ignored it. "You know a little too much."
"Kill me, and you don't get out alive."
"You're here alone."
Parker leaned closer, "Does holding the knife on my throat make you the better killer?"
"What?"
Reaching up, Parker wrapped her hand around Ziva's wrist. "Are you a screamer?"
A shudder seemed to go through Ziva, she pulled her knife away, and sheathed it. "Care to find out?"
"Yes." Parker didn't kiss her, going for the uniform pants without pause. They slid down curvy hips, and Parker stroked a finger across one, noting the lack of underwear.
"I could deafen you at this range."
"Turn around," Parker replied, less an order. But enough of one that Ziva complied, widening her stance. Parker stroked her pussy, tugging at the springy curls.
"You going to play or fuck?" The words are raw-edged with need.
Parker's answer was to press down on Ziva's clit, she felt her hiss at the sensation. She worked fast, fingers sliding in and then out, thumb pressing and circling.
"Better," Ziva said, before pushing back against Parker. "More."
"Greedy," but Parker complied, because she wanted to feel Ziva come, wanted to find out whether she screamed in english or arabic.
It was arabic, dark words that Parker can't quite understand (mandarin was easier), but that spill out with a guttural inflection. Ziva doesn't quite break the sound barrier, though she tried. Parker pulled her fingers free with the last convulsion and wiped them on her thigh.
"Now what?" Ziva was cold again, body still against Parker's, but mind sharp and working against her.
"I do what I was paid to do."
The knife slid into Ziva's belly, and up. And she could feel the warm blood against her fingers.
"You... bitch." Ziva sagged in her arms.
"Always." Pulling the knife free, Parker let Ziva drop to the floor. "Damn." There was blood on one sleeve of her grey blouse.
Ziva glared at her as she changed into fresh clothing. Parker closed her case.
"You will just leave me?"
Parker knelt, leaning in and whispering, "Yes. But it isn't fatal. It's just a warning."
Then she stood and left, leaving the door half-open. Someone would find Ziva shortly. And the wound probably wouldn't be fatal. Probably.
Damn shame, either way.
-f-