"Debris" - NCIS, Tony/Ziva and lots of anger
disclaimer: Not mine. Just borrowed them for play. Put them back where they belong.
setting: NCIS, after 7x21 "Obsession", and yes, spoilers for that ep.
warnings & rating: Angry!sex, bordering on non-con.
This is not a nice story at all. It is one that hurts. REALLY. This is the way my muses chose to deal with what happened in this episode, and no, I am not happy about it, but it still needed to get out. So, y'know, you have been warned.
word count: around 1,800
comments & feedback: very much appreciated.
Debris
by Sammy
He hasn't spoken to her - or any of them, really - all morning. He just sits at his desk and keeps doing his job quietly, lost in unfamiliar concentration, until even Gibbs looks at him strangely.
She tries to talk to him at one time, but he just stares at her until her jumble of words has run its course and she falls quiet again. Then he nods at her, gets up without a word and vacates his desk.
After he has been gone for thirty minutes, Ziva exchanges a look with McGee and then excuses herself.
A few minutes later she locks the door of the men's room behind herself, and Tony's jaw tightens visibly.
"I don't want to talk," he presses out. He's leaning against the sink with his palms pressed against the top of it, not meeting her eyes, and it looks like he's been standing like that for a while now.
She moves closer slowly, carefully, like one would approach a wounded animal. Eventually, she is near enough that she could have touched his arm, and her hand even rises involuntarily. She stops herself just in time. He still notices, though, and it makes a muscle jump in his cheek.
"What do you want?" he asks bluntly, and she blinks, lost for a moment. She hasn't even thought that far.
"I am... concerned about you," she replies after a while, and he rolls his eyes at that. Which makes her frown in turn. "You haven't exactly been yourself lately."
"And why exactly is that, Probie?" he snarls at her in an almost violent outburst, turning around to finally face her, and she jumps at the look on his face and the tone of his voice. "Because I started to look at other women again, after God knows how many years?"
The aggressive tension radiating from him makes her uneasy, and she starts to say something, but then his words really sink in and no sound comes out of her mouth. Because, good agent that he is after all, he has twisted the knife in the wound with eerie precision.
He watches her face, and his eyes narrow at what he sees and what she can't hide - not from him, anyway.
"You know, some people think it's a good idea for me to get back on the horse."
"I don't," she hears herself say, and the words are a shock to both of them, as it turns out.
He tenses up even more after that, and she can see that there is the kind of anger brewing inside him now that's turning him into the Tony she has only seen a few times, the one that has always scared her badly because he is capable of so much darkness.
His hands clench and unclench a few times, and it almost looks as if he has to fight some violent urges. "You were the one who told me that it would be good for us to move on, remember?"
"Not that way," she hears herself reply, and she wonders why she can no longer form complete sentences, and why she can't bring herself to meet his eyes, and why her voice sounds so disgustingly small and unsure.
His eyes narrow even further. "The other way was never my call, Ziva. Not for a really long time."
She stares at him, heart pounding and eyes wide all of a sudden, and she has no idea what to say to that because all the thoughts that spring to mind would be... inappropriate. And she can't help thinking that this isn't right, that they shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't even be thinking about this. Which is the sensible thing to say, but not what she wants to say.
What she wants to say instead is that yes, there is hardly a day when she doesn't think about him in one way or the other, even the days when she doesn't see him at work. That her apartment sometimes feels empty when she least expects it, and that she wants to call him on those nights and never does because neither of them has spent more than a few minutes at the other's place since Michael. That she keeps seeing his face in her dreams, and that sometimes it feels like the only thing that keeps her sane. That, yes, she wants him. So much. Too much.
And yet again, she's trapped in her own vicious cycle of failure, and she finds that she can't tell him any of that, of course. Because she never could before, and she can't just start now. Because the things that are as important to her as this, whatever this is, the things that really matter, these are also the things she cannot want, cannot talk about, because she was never meant to have them in the first place. She just wasn't raised for her own needs.
Her mask slips for a heartbeat, and he notices and sees what's going on.
"Don't you dare now," he hisses, and she jumps at the harsh tone, looking up at him and meeting his angry eyes.
And again, he makes her control slip, just like that, and she certainly doesn't want that, but she can't help it either. Her face is wide open now, and without wanting to, without planning it, she lets him see what is inside her for the first time.
Something happens then, flips the emotions between them upside down while he stares at her, and suddenly he comes for her with a weird expression on his face, slowly, his body tight with tension. Caged tiger, close to attacking his trainer. His mouth is pressed shut in such an angry way when he reaches for her and goes for the buttons of her pants that she gasps and grabs his wrist.
"Don't-" she starts, but she already knows that she won't be able to stop him if he keeps going.
And of course he knows that, too, and so he interrupts her.
"Shut up now or get out of here."
She stares at him, eyes wide and panicked, her fingers still clutching his wrist, and she already feels the pain that he will bring upon her.
And then the moment to run from this is truly gone, and he drags her closer roughly, rips her pants open and just pushes his hand between her legs and inside her rudely. Watches her face closely while he does that.
She shudders, and her cheeks turn hot with shame because even though he violates her, she feels her body react willingly to what he does. And he feels it, too, and his jaw clenches again. That is when she closes her eyes and turns her head away.
She feels him push her pants down to her knees, and then she is roughly turned around and shoved against the sink, its edge cold against her naked thighs. She hears him unbuckle his own pants, and her eyes flow open just in time to see his heated expression in the mirror while he kicks her legs apart and leans into her from behind. He is big, and it hurts when he shoves himself into her, just like that, because he isn't gentle, and he doesn't give her body any time to adjust to the intrusion.
"Please," she says, just that, very quietly, and a few times she adds "don't", but he doesn't stop, and eventually, the pain retreats and changes into something else, something that shouldn't even be there underneath the violence of the act.
And even though her body no longer hurts now, she does, even more.
He works her in a hard, precise way that makes her skin crawl and her insides ache, and his fingers dig into her hips the whole time, his hands clenched so tightly around her flesh that she knows she'll come out of this bruised badly.
Her own nails dig into the back of his hand, but he doesn't seem to notice. His eyes are strangely unemotional, and yet, she sees something flicker in his gaze a few times, something that hasn't been there for a long time.
That is when her body betrays her once more.
She bites her lip hard to keep the moan from spilling out, but she knows that he can still feel her come, and it disrupts the unnerving control he has over his own harsh rhythm. And then he shudders, too, following her release just as quickly, just as quietly. Only his breathing changes to something no longer controlled.
His gaze is filled with angry heat again when she meets his eyes in the mirror, and even though there is definitely something else going on now, something she can't place, all she can feel herself is a slowly spreading numbness.
Her face burns, and she looks down at the sink, blinking. Water, dripping slowly from the faucet because someone hasn't turned it off correctly. Out of the corner of her eye she sees his hands, still clenched hard around her hips. She wants to relax her own fingers and let go of him now, really, but she can't, and so she keeps digging her nails into his hand sharply, leaving her own marks on him.
And then she feels another shudder run through him, and he steps back as if her touch has burned him and he has only noticed it now. He zips up again without a word, his movements terse, and when she just stands there, frozen stiff, he pulls her own pants back up, too. His hands are rough while he does that, and his lips, brushing her cheek as he leans over her shoulder, make her flinch. And she shies away from the touch even though she doesn't want to.
"Now what could she possibly see in me?" he asks. His voice is harsh, lashing painfully across her cheek. And she hears the lock click, and instead of his big, unrelenting body there is just cold emptiness behind her all of a sudden.
"Too much," she whispers while she raises a hand and wipes moisture from her cheek. But the door already swings shut behind him, and she is almost certain that he hasn't even heard her reply.
***
Let me add that this is definitely not how I want to see them, and no, I am not happy with the tendency of this, either. Yes, the next ones will be quite different again.
That said, I can actually see Tony getting so angry about chances lost. No, I don't like that thought. Yes, I think even though Ziva can kick his ass physically at least fifty different ways, she is still an incredibly conflicted person. And I know from experience how having feelings for someone, but not being able to do anything about it, can affect you.
And yes, the Somalia thing - I know. I would like to bring to mind that Ziva has extensive Mossad training, and that includes rape scenarios, as well. Personally (me, just me) I think that if it has happened, she would not have been as devastated by it as many, many other women. Her body has always been a tool and a weapon to her.
Edited, once more: continued in "Collateral".
.
setting: NCIS, after 7x21 "Obsession", and yes, spoilers for that ep.
warnings & rating: Angry!sex, bordering on non-con.
This is not a nice story at all. It is one that hurts. REALLY. This is the way my muses chose to deal with what happened in this episode, and no, I am not happy about it, but it still needed to get out. So, y'know, you have been warned.
word count: around 1,800
comments & feedback: very much appreciated.
Debris
by Sammy
He hasn't spoken to her - or any of them, really - all morning. He just sits at his desk and keeps doing his job quietly, lost in unfamiliar concentration, until even Gibbs looks at him strangely.
She tries to talk to him at one time, but he just stares at her until her jumble of words has run its course and she falls quiet again. Then he nods at her, gets up without a word and vacates his desk.
After he has been gone for thirty minutes, Ziva exchanges a look with McGee and then excuses herself.
A few minutes later she locks the door of the men's room behind herself, and Tony's jaw tightens visibly.
"I don't want to talk," he presses out. He's leaning against the sink with his palms pressed against the top of it, not meeting her eyes, and it looks like he's been standing like that for a while now.
She moves closer slowly, carefully, like one would approach a wounded animal. Eventually, she is near enough that she could have touched his arm, and her hand even rises involuntarily. She stops herself just in time. He still notices, though, and it makes a muscle jump in his cheek.
"What do you want?" he asks bluntly, and she blinks, lost for a moment. She hasn't even thought that far.
"I am... concerned about you," she replies after a while, and he rolls his eyes at that. Which makes her frown in turn. "You haven't exactly been yourself lately."
"And why exactly is that, Probie?" he snarls at her in an almost violent outburst, turning around to finally face her, and she jumps at the look on his face and the tone of his voice. "Because I started to look at other women again, after God knows how many years?"
The aggressive tension radiating from him makes her uneasy, and she starts to say something, but then his words really sink in and no sound comes out of her mouth. Because, good agent that he is after all, he has twisted the knife in the wound with eerie precision.
He watches her face, and his eyes narrow at what he sees and what she can't hide - not from him, anyway.
"You know, some people think it's a good idea for me to get back on the horse."
"I don't," she hears herself say, and the words are a shock to both of them, as it turns out.
He tenses up even more after that, and she can see that there is the kind of anger brewing inside him now that's turning him into the Tony she has only seen a few times, the one that has always scared her badly because he is capable of so much darkness.
His hands clench and unclench a few times, and it almost looks as if he has to fight some violent urges. "You were the one who told me that it would be good for us to move on, remember?"
"Not that way," she hears herself reply, and she wonders why she can no longer form complete sentences, and why she can't bring herself to meet his eyes, and why her voice sounds so disgustingly small and unsure.
His eyes narrow even further. "The other way was never my call, Ziva. Not for a really long time."
She stares at him, heart pounding and eyes wide all of a sudden, and she has no idea what to say to that because all the thoughts that spring to mind would be... inappropriate. And she can't help thinking that this isn't right, that they shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't even be thinking about this. Which is the sensible thing to say, but not what she wants to say.
What she wants to say instead is that yes, there is hardly a day when she doesn't think about him in one way or the other, even the days when she doesn't see him at work. That her apartment sometimes feels empty when she least expects it, and that she wants to call him on those nights and never does because neither of them has spent more than a few minutes at the other's place since Michael. That she keeps seeing his face in her dreams, and that sometimes it feels like the only thing that keeps her sane. That, yes, she wants him. So much. Too much.
And yet again, she's trapped in her own vicious cycle of failure, and she finds that she can't tell him any of that, of course. Because she never could before, and she can't just start now. Because the things that are as important to her as this, whatever this is, the things that really matter, these are also the things she cannot want, cannot talk about, because she was never meant to have them in the first place. She just wasn't raised for her own needs.
Her mask slips for a heartbeat, and he notices and sees what's going on.
"Don't you dare now," he hisses, and she jumps at the harsh tone, looking up at him and meeting his angry eyes.
And again, he makes her control slip, just like that, and she certainly doesn't want that, but she can't help it either. Her face is wide open now, and without wanting to, without planning it, she lets him see what is inside her for the first time.
Something happens then, flips the emotions between them upside down while he stares at her, and suddenly he comes for her with a weird expression on his face, slowly, his body tight with tension. Caged tiger, close to attacking his trainer. His mouth is pressed shut in such an angry way when he reaches for her and goes for the buttons of her pants that she gasps and grabs his wrist.
"Don't-" she starts, but she already knows that she won't be able to stop him if he keeps going.
And of course he knows that, too, and so he interrupts her.
"Shut up now or get out of here."
She stares at him, eyes wide and panicked, her fingers still clutching his wrist, and she already feels the pain that he will bring upon her.
And then the moment to run from this is truly gone, and he drags her closer roughly, rips her pants open and just pushes his hand between her legs and inside her rudely. Watches her face closely while he does that.
She shudders, and her cheeks turn hot with shame because even though he violates her, she feels her body react willingly to what he does. And he feels it, too, and his jaw clenches again. That is when she closes her eyes and turns her head away.
She feels him push her pants down to her knees, and then she is roughly turned around and shoved against the sink, its edge cold against her naked thighs. She hears him unbuckle his own pants, and her eyes flow open just in time to see his heated expression in the mirror while he kicks her legs apart and leans into her from behind. He is big, and it hurts when he shoves himself into her, just like that, because he isn't gentle, and he doesn't give her body any time to adjust to the intrusion.
"Please," she says, just that, very quietly, and a few times she adds "don't", but he doesn't stop, and eventually, the pain retreats and changes into something else, something that shouldn't even be there underneath the violence of the act.
And even though her body no longer hurts now, she does, even more.
He works her in a hard, precise way that makes her skin crawl and her insides ache, and his fingers dig into her hips the whole time, his hands clenched so tightly around her flesh that she knows she'll come out of this bruised badly.
Her own nails dig into the back of his hand, but he doesn't seem to notice. His eyes are strangely unemotional, and yet, she sees something flicker in his gaze a few times, something that hasn't been there for a long time.
That is when her body betrays her once more.
She bites her lip hard to keep the moan from spilling out, but she knows that he can still feel her come, and it disrupts the unnerving control he has over his own harsh rhythm. And then he shudders, too, following her release just as quickly, just as quietly. Only his breathing changes to something no longer controlled.
His gaze is filled with angry heat again when she meets his eyes in the mirror, and even though there is definitely something else going on now, something she can't place, all she can feel herself is a slowly spreading numbness.
Her face burns, and she looks down at the sink, blinking. Water, dripping slowly from the faucet because someone hasn't turned it off correctly. Out of the corner of her eye she sees his hands, still clenched hard around her hips. She wants to relax her own fingers and let go of him now, really, but she can't, and so she keeps digging her nails into his hand sharply, leaving her own marks on him.
And then she feels another shudder run through him, and he steps back as if her touch has burned him and he has only noticed it now. He zips up again without a word, his movements terse, and when she just stands there, frozen stiff, he pulls her own pants back up, too. His hands are rough while he does that, and his lips, brushing her cheek as he leans over her shoulder, make her flinch. And she shies away from the touch even though she doesn't want to.
"Now what could she possibly see in me?" he asks. His voice is harsh, lashing painfully across her cheek. And she hears the lock click, and instead of his big, unrelenting body there is just cold emptiness behind her all of a sudden.
"Too much," she whispers while she raises a hand and wipes moisture from her cheek. But the door already swings shut behind him, and she is almost certain that he hasn't even heard her reply.
***
Let me add that this is definitely not how I want to see them, and no, I am not happy with the tendency of this, either. Yes, the next ones will be quite different again.
That said, I can actually see Tony getting so angry about chances lost. No, I don't like that thought. Yes, I think even though Ziva can kick his ass physically at least fifty different ways, she is still an incredibly conflicted person. And I know from experience how having feelings for someone, but not being able to do anything about it, can affect you.
And yes, the Somalia thing - I know. I would like to bring to mind that Ziva has extensive Mossad training, and that includes rape scenarios, as well. Personally (me, just me) I think that if it has happened, she would not have been as devastated by it as many, many other women. Her body has always been a tool and a weapon to her.
Edited, once more: continued in "Collateral".
.