"Duet" - Tony/Ziva, smut
disclaimer: So not mine. Just borrowed them for play. Put them back unharmed.
notes & warnings: Follows Ninja Solo and Room With a View, which consisted mostly of slow-burning adult entertainment. Concludes the tale, and yes, I realize it's been a while. Yes, we're finally done now. For the first time I don't feel one hundred percent certain about this one, but if I don't get it out now, it will most likely never see the light of day. And no, this is still not safe for work. At all.
word count: 5,150
comments & feedback: As always, very much appreciated. :)
Duet
Petty Officer Henderson put up just enough of a fight to distract Tony's head. Ran first, then gave him a couple of bruises, and yeah, that was pretty much when he decided that she was the dominant part in her choice of bedroom entertainment. But then she said something nice about his hands when he held her down and he was no longer sure.
*** *** ***
Ziva didn't comment, she just slapped cuffs on Henderson and told her to shut up when she tried to argue with them. He liked it when she was all business like that, not letting any distraction come between her and her goal.
In this case, the goal consisted of booking an offender, getting a pat on the head from Gibbs and then, finally, to go home and get some sleep.
No, wait. Probably she'd clean up first.
Because unlike Tony she hadn't had time for a trip to the bathroom. She'd just zipped up her pants and wiped her hand on a Kleenex, and he knew all too well that wasn't enough to clear the heavy scent of arousal from her skin.
He knew it because he could still smell her, every time she came too close or leaned into him or, worse, tapped her fingers against his shoulder to catch his attention.
And it still drove him nuts.
*** *** ***
She realized it when she brushed her hand up his shoulder and leaned over him to point out something in his report. He suddenly had no choice but to turn his head and stare at her hand, his nostrils flaring, and when he raised his eyes after what felt like ages, he saw that her face suddenly looked flushed and her own eyes were dark and wide. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, and for a heartbeat her lips parted in almost-shock. A tiny tremble ran through her, and he must have stared at her in a way that told her loud and clear how close he was to ripping off her pants and throwing her across his desk while he screamed a hallelujah in the face of Rule Number Twelve.
He wanted to lick her so bad. Suck on her fingers and taste her, and then run his tongue up her arm and smell her neck and maybe suck on her perfect little tits until she made that sound for him again. The one that sounded like she was halfway out of her mind with lust.
He watched her close her mouth and swallow hard before she turned her head away, and for a moment he wasn't sure what that meant. If she was uncomfortable with what she had just seen. If she thought that, maybe, it would be easier to forget this shiny little interlude straight out of a porn fantasy had actually happened.
Then she straightened her back, and he saw how her nipples suddenly strained against her shirt, hard and, oh yes, highly interested in the way Tony had just looked at his partner.
That didn't make it any better.
*** *** ***
She didn't back off after that, even though he could tell she tried to keep her distance. To treat this cautiously professional and not let it get in the way of their job. He could also tell that her pulse fluttered whenever he came too close or leaned into her just like he had done for years. And he felt his own body spring to instant attention whenever she leaned back against him out of habit or touched him fleetingly or even just licked her lips.
It was torture, really. Delicious, mind-numbing torture that left him all itchy and at some points of the evening half hard, and god, he'd be so screwed if she ever found out how easily she could lead him around by his dick. Literally, maybe. Or -- well, not.
By the time Gibbs told them to go home he was fidgeting worse than back when his dad had dragged him to the fitting for his very first suit, and he rubbed his face and groaned in delight at the thought of a cold shower to rinse away the temptation.
Or maybe a hot shower and a lot of soapy suds, to help ease the pressure.
That was pretty much the moment when he realized that his car was still parked at the crime scene. And Ziva had just offered to drive him home.
*** *** ***
Her fingers tapped a nervous rhythm on the steering wheel whenever she stopped at a red light (and yes, she actually stopped at most of them, for a change).
He only watched her out of the corner of his eye because yeah, he knew why he was nervous, but despite the occasional looks she gave him, he still wasn't sure what she would do if he were to reach over now and shove his hand into her pants and get her off while the light turned green and red and green again. And he was afraid that once he looked at her straight on, that was exactly the thing he would try to do.
Because watching her come had thrown a big fat monkey wrench in his grand scheme of all things partnershippy. Had turned his tiny, well-structured, friends-only world upside down and left him yearning and aching for the anarchy and madness of desire.
He turned his head to watch her profile after all, and his breathing quickened when she let the engine roar and ignored the next red light.
*** *** ***
She kept her hands on the wheel after she had parked the car, and Tony licked his lips and watched her stare straight ahead and not meet his eyes. His fingers itched to reach out for her and grab her neck, but in the end he just said, "I think we need to talk."
Ziva turned her head and met his eyes for the first time since they had left the Yard.
"It's not talking we need to do," she said, took her keys and got out of the car.
Tony blinked, and while he watched her wander off, he found that he lacked the words and the will to object. And so he merely got out of the car and trailed after her while he let anarchy wash over him.
*** *** ***
He didn't say anything while she waited for him to open the door. He didn't trust his voice enough. Not when Ziva had just implied she may be willing to fuck his brains out just to get him out of her system. (He knew it worked for some guys, but this was a fresh perspective.)
He was quiet the whole time Ziva ran her eyes all over him and watched his hands fumble with the keys until he almost dropped them. And he didn't comment -- god, no -- when Ziva eventually reached out and tapped two fingertips to the back of his hand.
"You want me to..." she started, and then her voice trailed off because it seemed too big a thing to put into words after all.
He breathed in and out slowly. Stared at her hand, still touching him. Confusing him.
Except... well, not.
On some level things suddenly seemed a lot clearer. And so Tony turned his head and met her eyes while he turned the key in the lock. "I got it," he said, and her eyes flared up in sudden heat. It was an unexpected reaction, and it raised a sharp pang of lust inside him in return.
He held the door open for her, and for a moment the sandalwood scent of her shampoo was in his nose when she brushed past him. Then she climbed the stairs up to his floor, and he couldn't help staring at her perfect ass. So unreachable before, and now, now she was suddenly flaunting it in his face and he was already half hard from the mere thought that she'd allow him some touching.
God, he seriously hoped he hadn't gotten the wrong vibe and all she really wanted was a coffee.
*** *** ***
She toed off her shoes two steps into his apartment, and that probably was a good indicator it wasn't coffee she had come up for. Her hands opened the tight knot of her hair, and she made a tiny sound of relief while she shook her curls out and spread them around her shoulders.
Tony watched her quietly and then loosened his tie because he could get away with that whatever the next few minutes would bring. He couldn't stop thinking about fucking her. His pulse suddenly did unhealthy things, and with each step Ziva took, with each sway of her hips it got worse.
She didn't turn to look at him. He tried to breathe slowly when she went straight to the kitchen and came back with the bottle of vodka he kept in the freezer for emergencies. He was still silent while she took two shot glasses from the sideboard and poured a good splash of vodka into both.
By the time she turned around to face him with a glass in each hand, he had caught up with her, and for a heartbeat her eyes widened when she suddenly found him close enough to touch. Then she found her footing again and handed him one glass while she knocked the other back unceremoniously. And just like that, Tony found himself staring at her throat, watching her swallow. Wondering what it would feel like if she swallowed around his cock like that.
God, this was killing him already. He should have never even started thinking about it. This was leading somewhere dangerous, and he really shouldn't--
"So are we gonna...?" He lost the half-formed word and couldn't say it out loud after all. Couldn't ask his partner after so many years if she'd like to fuck him, even though the need to know almost singed his tongue off.
Ziva, apparently, felt even less verbal than he did. She just nodded sharply and put her shot glass down on the sideboard. And this was it, he thought and stared at her neck. This was the moment where the incredibly hot woman with the most amazing tush he'd ever had the privilege to ogle had confirmed that yes, she would like to fuck him, just because the mere thought had proven to be too much of a distraction for her. He knocked his own glass back, then sat it down hard and reached for the bottle. There was no way he could get through this one sober. (And maybe that was a pretty smart idea. That way he could blame it all on a drunken fantasy when they went back to business as usual tomorrow.)
He hadn't counted on the movement bringing him closer to Ziva.
There was no reason it should matter, really. Up until now, physical closeness had never made a difference between them. But now, now he suddenly felt her breath against his neck and the rush of heat coming from her body and, most of all, the way she didn't pull back, but leaned into him in return. And suddenly his whole weight seemed to rest on the grip he had on that damn bottle. His fingers cramped around the neck, and his left hand, dangling at his side, clenched while he turned his head a bit. Ziva's lips hovered just above the over-excited pulse in his neck, and he stared at her out of the corner of his eye. Part of him desperately wanted to move and close the tiny bit of distance still left between them, but for some reason he couldn't. Too much like a goddamn ocean after all. Too hard to dip his toes into the waves when he wasn't sure yet he wouldn't drown.
Then Ziva raised her hand and touched his side, just above his waist, and that touch was so different from the ones they'd shared before that he reeled from it. Because they touched a hundred times a week, always, constantly, not caring about it one way or the other, but this -- this was deliberate. Not to get his attention or to slap him after a tasteless joke or to rile him up. This, the way she had her hand run up his body slowly now, with the heat from her palm scorching him through his shirt... this was because she wanted to touch him.
The little puffs of her breath against his skin came faster suddenly, and yeah, he got it, his own pulse had turned into a stuttering jackhammer, too. He turned his head a little further, just so her lips wouldn't brush his skin after all.
"I don't think this is a good idea," he pressed out and tried to fight down the mad rush of lust that insisted it was the best ever. It wasn't. There was no way in hell sex with Ziva could be good. (Okay, so technically it would be very good, possibly bordering on awesome. Just not the stuff that came afterwards.)
He waited for her to agree and back away. Waited with her scent in his nose and her heat radiating off her and his dick so hard that he could have hammered a nail in with it right now.
She never pulled back, though. Her hand just moved a bit higher, and her left came up to his chest. A flick of her thumb opened the top button of his shirt, and Tony almost gasped at the sensation of her fingertips against his skin.
"Your body likes it," she murmured, and he laughed shakily and put his hand over hers to stop her exploration.
"Yeah, well," he said, and his voice was strained enough to make more heat flare up in Ziva's eyes. God, this wasn't helping with the being rational. "My two heads disagree most of the time."
She still didn't back away, and her hand stayed against his chest, and god, this was hard. Because he really wanted her. Because she felt good, and she smelled good, and she suddenly pressed up against him, complete with her thigh sliding against his and her lips finally brushing his skin and sending a shower of goose bumps all over him.
"Tony," she breathed out, and his name was a caress against his neck. (Not helping. At all.) "I've seen you." And he knew she was talking about his dick now, and that sent his brain on shore leave and made said dick strain painfully against his pants.
And Ziva, Ziva noticed his reaction, of course. Felt his breathing turn labored and his heart hammer away against her palm. She freed her hand from his grip gently and let her fingertips trail through his chest hair while she opened another button. "I don't want to spend the next five years wondering what you could do for me."
He closed his eyes, and that was a mistake because he suddenly had the most vivid image of her arching up in that wicker chair, with her lips trembling and her face all sweaty.
She opened yet another button, and this time he didn't object. His hand came up to her hip, grasping her, and he honestly couldn't remember making that decision. But he felt her shudder in suddenly skyrocketing anticipation, and when his own fingertips traveled underneath her shirt and touched her skin, she let out a tiny hiss. She even lost track of her own exploration for a moment as she concentrated on Tony sliding his fingers up higher, skimming her ribcage until he reached the soft curve of her breast. His dick twitched almost painfully when he realized she wore no underwear at all.
Ziva held her breath, waiting for what he would do now. Waited for him to cup her breast and maybe rub her nipple, to be all impatient and to rip her clothes off because this was how things would be between them, right?
And yeah, he wanted to do that. He couldn't wait to be inside her. But there was no way in hell he would rush this. It had to last him a few years, after all.
He moved his fingertips, just let them dance across her skin a little. It was barely a caress at all, but it was enough to make Ziva gasp as if she'd been shocked. Her body arched into him involuntarily, and the sudden tension brought a slight shudder with it. Her eyelids fluttered halfway shut, and then she turned the slightest bit and tried to push her breast into his palm. And oh, yeah, he got the hint, got it loud and clear. He still pulled his hand back, and she made a frustrated little sound deep in her throat that left him throbbing hard.
"How sure are you about this?" he asked while he trailed his fingertips down her side until he reached the relatively safe zone of her pants.
Ziva's eyes snapped open, and yeah, it was sheer idiocy to ask this. To give her an easy out while she was pressing her hips against his cock and tried to ride him. He couldn't help it, though. It was too important to have her look at him in the morning without regretting it. He could get cheap thrills everywhere, but he only had one Ziva.
She stared at him for a few endless moments, and part of him waited for the other shoe to drop and her to back off, after all. Then she licked her lips and moved her hands -- not to stop touching him, but to quickly open the remaining buttons of his shirt and pull it out of his pants until she could run her hands down his chest and then hook a finger behind his belt. He stared at her with his lips parting, but no words coming out, and Ziva raised her chin and looked at him almost stubbornly. A smile made the corners of her mouth twitch, and it looked like it meant she was really, really sure and wanted some candy now, thank you very much.
"Raise your arms," he murmured, and her eyes darkened as his words sank in. There was more fire in her eyes now, but some part of him still waited for her to object, to go back to the same game they had played for years with each other. The kind of game that never leads anywhere, except one step forward and two steps back.
But this time Ziva didn't step back, and she didn't object. His cock twitched hard when her eyelids fluttered and she raised her arms above her head. She moved slowly, inch by inch, and his breathing quickened at the very deliberate way she obeyed him.
"Good," he muttered and ran his hand up her side again. He finally let go of the vodka bottle and slipped his right hand under her shirt, too. She gasped when he cupped her breast, and for a second he wasn't sure if it was the sensory overload or the lingering cold from the glass that made her nipple poke hard into his palm. Then she arched into him, and he licked his lips because he could feel the sudden, heated way her body reacted to his touch. He literally felt it, felt her heat erupt against his thigh as her hips pressed into him. His dick screamed to just give her what she wanted, to let her ride him, just like that, because it would be so, so good. It turned into an almost painful effort to stick to the slow pace, especially when she shuddered and her head fell back while she moaned for him. But yeah, it would be worth it. He was pretty sure about that.
He tightened his grip and rubbed her nipple between his fingers, all stiff and excited and so very sensitive that he had to force himself to let go of her so he could get her out of her shirt. She breathed out in a rush when he grabbed the hem and pulled it over her head, and yeah, he got it. He got the excitement about the sudden nakedness and hands touching new places and things actually going somewhere.
She kept her arms over her head even after he dropped her shirt carelessly, as if she were unsure what to do now. Or maybe she was waiting for more instructions. (And that was a thought that killed him right there because his fantasies instantly went into overdrive, even while he had her standing right in front of him and being real.)
He touched her elbows and traced slow lines down her arms, leaving goose bumps in his wake. Tension coiled her muscles, and the minute trembling that ran through her told him she tried really hard to stay still and go with his pace. The thought turned his breathing into harsh little pants while she shuddered under his hands and bit her lip and then rubbed her thigh against his to urge him on a little. Oh fuck, yeah, like that, baby.
"You're incredible," he pressed out and stared at her, his eyes running all over her and following the path of his hands. His pulse pounded harder, and she rewarded him with a tiny gasp, her head falling back when he slipped his fingers into the waistband of her pants. He popped the button, and she moaned, a rugged sound that tore through his resolve and made him press against her after all. For a moment he felt dizzy from the sensation of having her naked against his chest.
"Seriously," he murmured into her neck and ran his lips over her skin. "You are..."
And just like that he, the one who never stopped talking, ran out of words.
It took Ziva a moment to notice the switch in his mood. He watched her open her eyes and bite her lip, and he knew he probably looked like a fool, staring at her like this, but right then he couldn't help it, he could only look at her with astonishment rippling through him at the lust swirling in her eyes. He wasn't sure he deserved this.
He drew back, and she looked like she was about to protest, but the words died in her throat when he went down on his knees in front of her. She licked her lips and watched him look at her, and while she slowly lowered her arms, he pulled her zipper down.
"Tony," she murmured, and he knew she wanted to say something. She didn't have the words for it, though, and since he didn't know what to say either he just leaned forward and brushed his lips along the soft curve of her belly.
It was tempting to suck her flesh, to lick her and roll her taste around on his tongue until he was dizzy with it, but to his own surprise he found that he couldn't do that. Not when this was just to screw each other until they had it out of their system. Not when he'd wake up in the morning to only a memory of her taste. It seemed safer to do it like this, to keep this a simple touch, not too intimate, not too different from the ones they usually shared. Except this time there were less clothes involved.
He dragged her pants down her hips and let his lips follow the path he exposed, and Ziva shuddered again and put her hands to his shoulders now, maybe to steady herself, maybe to grab a feel of him. He ran his mouth along the soft curve of her hip, and she gasped and held on tight, her fingers clenching around his shoulders.
God, he wanted to lick her so bad.
Her breath came in short, harsh bursts by the time he had peeled her out of her pants, and he had to stop, had to lean his forehead against her belly for just a second and concentrate on what he was doing here. Or trying to do, rather. But then he closed his eyes, and that didn't make it any better, it just made him notice her intoxicating scent more, close, so close to his mouth, so tempting. Close enough that he could press his lips to her easily and suck her until she'd tremble and her legs would give, and maybe she'd scream for him, just a little. Or tear at his hair while she came.
And that was something he'd never be able to forget.
He drew back and looked at her, and whatever he'd been trying to do here, however hard he'd tried to distance himself from this and just do it and not think about the fact that it was really Ziva he was doing it to -- this was the moment where he failed. Where he met her eyes and saw the raw hunger and insane fire swirling there and found that this was not something he could distance himself from. Never could, really. He'd just forgotten for a moment that this was as personal as it could get.
And Ziva swallowed hard now because she'd just realized the same, but before she could pull back and decide this was a bad idea after all, he was on his feet again. His hands grabbed her, and she gasped when he pulled her up his body until she sat on the sideboard, all naked and horny and with her legs spread for him. Her hands tore at his clothes madly all of a sudden, ripping his belt open, unzipping him, and he laughed and told her to be careful. God, she was so deliciously impatient. And then she had her hand down his pants and stroked him, pulled him closer, and fuck, yeah, he didn't mind that, he didn't care at all that right now she just wanted him to get her off.
"Ziva," he groaned, and she raised her head and held his gaze while her hands pushed his pants down just enough to free him, just enough to get him inside her, and ohfuckgod that wasn't what he'd expected, that wasn't sane and controlled at all, that was wet heat and insanity and mad lust stampeding all over his senses instead, burning him up until he couldn't think anymore, could only shove deeper into her and listen to her moans and feel the way she wrapped her legs around him.
He pressed out a curse through gritted teeth and leaned over her, and that was when she closed her eyes and her head fell back and she arched into him, shuddering all over. He watched her lips move, watched that tempting mouth press out silent words he didn't understand. And suddenly he couldn't help it, couldn't fight the urge anymore, couldn't keep this on the friendly and uncomplicated side of things any longer because it wasn't. It had never been.
She moaned into his mouth when he kissed her, and then she froze in his arms. Her heart hammered against his chest, and he waited for her to get it, to realize this was suddenly more than mere fucking. It took her longer than he had thought it would, and he almost wanted to pull back then and stop making this complicated and maybe even let go of her so they could both come to their senses again. But he couldn't, really. Couldn't stop sucking her beautiful mouth and couldn't stop pushing his tongue between those tempting lips and, most of all, couldn't stop tasting her because it was simply too good. So much better than he had imagined it to be. Almost better than being inside her was.
Then her nails dug into his neck, and he groaned and tried to tear his mouth from hers after all, only to realize she didn't let him. Her thighs tightened around his hips, and yeah, her tongue chased his now until he was breathless and lightheaded and strung up in the most delicious form of madness. And no, this wasn't quite what he had planned and most likely not what she had planned, either, but he really couldn't help it. He needed it to be like this.
*** *** ***
He wasn't quite sure what to do, now that they seemed done. Maybe there was some kind of protocol that covered the proper behavior after fucking your partner senseless on a goddamn sideboard, but if there was, Tony DiNozzo had no idea what it involved.
Right now, all he could think about was how he felt Ziva's thighs tremble as she tried to keep them wrapped around his hips. He wasn't sure if that was really because she wanted to keep him inside her or if she was -- like him -- merely scared shitless of letting go now. Because letting go would have meant facing each other instead. Looking at each other and dealing with this. And they had never been really good at that sort of thing.
Seconds ticked away between them, and eventually he sighed, let his head fall forward and pressed his mouth to her neck. He'd already failed at keeping his distance, after all, and if they had ruined it all with one round of mad sex now, he might as well try to get some really good memories out of it.
A soft shudder ran through her when he licked her neck. For a moment he thought she'd shove him back now and ask him what the fuck he thought he was doing. (He'd have smiled and told her something about fucking and thinking not mixing too well.) But she didn't push him away. She arched into his touch a little more instead, and then she turned her head and ran her lips along his jaw and let her tongue flick out to taste him, too.
"That didn't really help," she murmured, and heat rushed through him at the sound of her voice, all soft and intimate and relaxed against his cheek. Playful. Affectionate, even.
God, she'd liked this just as much as he had.
"Yeah," he mumbled back and grazed her neck with his teeth until he felt goose bumps march down her back. When he pulled back to meet her eyes, he found that she didn't look at him like this had been such a bad idea after all, and for some reason he couldn't fight the grin that suddenly wanted to split his face. "Wanna try again?"
Her thighs tightened around him some more, and yeah, that was fresh heat flaring up in her eyes in response.
Look at that. Maybe he hadn't screwed this one up yet. Maybe they wouldn't regret it in the morning.
*** *** ***
notes & warnings: Follows Ninja Solo and Room With a View, which consisted mostly of slow-burning adult entertainment. Concludes the tale, and yes, I realize it's been a while. Yes, we're finally done now. For the first time I don't feel one hundred percent certain about this one, but if I don't get it out now, it will most likely never see the light of day. And no, this is still not safe for work. At all.
word count: 5,150
comments & feedback: As always, very much appreciated. :)
Duet
Petty Officer Henderson put up just enough of a fight to distract Tony's head. Ran first, then gave him a couple of bruises, and yeah, that was pretty much when he decided that she was the dominant part in her choice of bedroom entertainment. But then she said something nice about his hands when he held her down and he was no longer sure.
*** *** ***
Ziva didn't comment, she just slapped cuffs on Henderson and told her to shut up when she tried to argue with them. He liked it when she was all business like that, not letting any distraction come between her and her goal.
In this case, the goal consisted of booking an offender, getting a pat on the head from Gibbs and then, finally, to go home and get some sleep.
No, wait. Probably she'd clean up first.
Because unlike Tony she hadn't had time for a trip to the bathroom. She'd just zipped up her pants and wiped her hand on a Kleenex, and he knew all too well that wasn't enough to clear the heavy scent of arousal from her skin.
He knew it because he could still smell her, every time she came too close or leaned into him or, worse, tapped her fingers against his shoulder to catch his attention.
And it still drove him nuts.
*** *** ***
She realized it when she brushed her hand up his shoulder and leaned over him to point out something in his report. He suddenly had no choice but to turn his head and stare at her hand, his nostrils flaring, and when he raised his eyes after what felt like ages, he saw that her face suddenly looked flushed and her own eyes were dark and wide. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, and for a heartbeat her lips parted in almost-shock. A tiny tremble ran through her, and he must have stared at her in a way that told her loud and clear how close he was to ripping off her pants and throwing her across his desk while he screamed a hallelujah in the face of Rule Number Twelve.
He wanted to lick her so bad. Suck on her fingers and taste her, and then run his tongue up her arm and smell her neck and maybe suck on her perfect little tits until she made that sound for him again. The one that sounded like she was halfway out of her mind with lust.
He watched her close her mouth and swallow hard before she turned her head away, and for a moment he wasn't sure what that meant. If she was uncomfortable with what she had just seen. If she thought that, maybe, it would be easier to forget this shiny little interlude straight out of a porn fantasy had actually happened.
Then she straightened her back, and he saw how her nipples suddenly strained against her shirt, hard and, oh yes, highly interested in the way Tony had just looked at his partner.
That didn't make it any better.
*** *** ***
She didn't back off after that, even though he could tell she tried to keep her distance. To treat this cautiously professional and not let it get in the way of their job. He could also tell that her pulse fluttered whenever he came too close or leaned into her just like he had done for years. And he felt his own body spring to instant attention whenever she leaned back against him out of habit or touched him fleetingly or even just licked her lips.
It was torture, really. Delicious, mind-numbing torture that left him all itchy and at some points of the evening half hard, and god, he'd be so screwed if she ever found out how easily she could lead him around by his dick. Literally, maybe. Or -- well, not.
By the time Gibbs told them to go home he was fidgeting worse than back when his dad had dragged him to the fitting for his very first suit, and he rubbed his face and groaned in delight at the thought of a cold shower to rinse away the temptation.
Or maybe a hot shower and a lot of soapy suds, to help ease the pressure.
That was pretty much the moment when he realized that his car was still parked at the crime scene. And Ziva had just offered to drive him home.
*** *** ***
Her fingers tapped a nervous rhythm on the steering wheel whenever she stopped at a red light (and yes, she actually stopped at most of them, for a change).
He only watched her out of the corner of his eye because yeah, he knew why he was nervous, but despite the occasional looks she gave him, he still wasn't sure what she would do if he were to reach over now and shove his hand into her pants and get her off while the light turned green and red and green again. And he was afraid that once he looked at her straight on, that was exactly the thing he would try to do.
Because watching her come had thrown a big fat monkey wrench in his grand scheme of all things partnershippy. Had turned his tiny, well-structured, friends-only world upside down and left him yearning and aching for the anarchy and madness of desire.
He turned his head to watch her profile after all, and his breathing quickened when she let the engine roar and ignored the next red light.
*** *** ***
She kept her hands on the wheel after she had parked the car, and Tony licked his lips and watched her stare straight ahead and not meet his eyes. His fingers itched to reach out for her and grab her neck, but in the end he just said, "I think we need to talk."
Ziva turned her head and met his eyes for the first time since they had left the Yard.
"It's not talking we need to do," she said, took her keys and got out of the car.
Tony blinked, and while he watched her wander off, he found that he lacked the words and the will to object. And so he merely got out of the car and trailed after her while he let anarchy wash over him.
*** *** ***
He didn't say anything while she waited for him to open the door. He didn't trust his voice enough. Not when Ziva had just implied she may be willing to fuck his brains out just to get him out of her system. (He knew it worked for some guys, but this was a fresh perspective.)
He was quiet the whole time Ziva ran her eyes all over him and watched his hands fumble with the keys until he almost dropped them. And he didn't comment -- god, no -- when Ziva eventually reached out and tapped two fingertips to the back of his hand.
"You want me to..." she started, and then her voice trailed off because it seemed too big a thing to put into words after all.
He breathed in and out slowly. Stared at her hand, still touching him. Confusing him.
Except... well, not.
On some level things suddenly seemed a lot clearer. And so Tony turned his head and met her eyes while he turned the key in the lock. "I got it," he said, and her eyes flared up in sudden heat. It was an unexpected reaction, and it raised a sharp pang of lust inside him in return.
He held the door open for her, and for a moment the sandalwood scent of her shampoo was in his nose when she brushed past him. Then she climbed the stairs up to his floor, and he couldn't help staring at her perfect ass. So unreachable before, and now, now she was suddenly flaunting it in his face and he was already half hard from the mere thought that she'd allow him some touching.
God, he seriously hoped he hadn't gotten the wrong vibe and all she really wanted was a coffee.
*** *** ***
She toed off her shoes two steps into his apartment, and that probably was a good indicator it wasn't coffee she had come up for. Her hands opened the tight knot of her hair, and she made a tiny sound of relief while she shook her curls out and spread them around her shoulders.
Tony watched her quietly and then loosened his tie because he could get away with that whatever the next few minutes would bring. He couldn't stop thinking about fucking her. His pulse suddenly did unhealthy things, and with each step Ziva took, with each sway of her hips it got worse.
She didn't turn to look at him. He tried to breathe slowly when she went straight to the kitchen and came back with the bottle of vodka he kept in the freezer for emergencies. He was still silent while she took two shot glasses from the sideboard and poured a good splash of vodka into both.
By the time she turned around to face him with a glass in each hand, he had caught up with her, and for a heartbeat her eyes widened when she suddenly found him close enough to touch. Then she found her footing again and handed him one glass while she knocked the other back unceremoniously. And just like that, Tony found himself staring at her throat, watching her swallow. Wondering what it would feel like if she swallowed around his cock like that.
God, this was killing him already. He should have never even started thinking about it. This was leading somewhere dangerous, and he really shouldn't--
"So are we gonna...?" He lost the half-formed word and couldn't say it out loud after all. Couldn't ask his partner after so many years if she'd like to fuck him, even though the need to know almost singed his tongue off.
Ziva, apparently, felt even less verbal than he did. She just nodded sharply and put her shot glass down on the sideboard. And this was it, he thought and stared at her neck. This was the moment where the incredibly hot woman with the most amazing tush he'd ever had the privilege to ogle had confirmed that yes, she would like to fuck him, just because the mere thought had proven to be too much of a distraction for her. He knocked his own glass back, then sat it down hard and reached for the bottle. There was no way he could get through this one sober. (And maybe that was a pretty smart idea. That way he could blame it all on a drunken fantasy when they went back to business as usual tomorrow.)
He hadn't counted on the movement bringing him closer to Ziva.
There was no reason it should matter, really. Up until now, physical closeness had never made a difference between them. But now, now he suddenly felt her breath against his neck and the rush of heat coming from her body and, most of all, the way she didn't pull back, but leaned into him in return. And suddenly his whole weight seemed to rest on the grip he had on that damn bottle. His fingers cramped around the neck, and his left hand, dangling at his side, clenched while he turned his head a bit. Ziva's lips hovered just above the over-excited pulse in his neck, and he stared at her out of the corner of his eye. Part of him desperately wanted to move and close the tiny bit of distance still left between them, but for some reason he couldn't. Too much like a goddamn ocean after all. Too hard to dip his toes into the waves when he wasn't sure yet he wouldn't drown.
Then Ziva raised her hand and touched his side, just above his waist, and that touch was so different from the ones they'd shared before that he reeled from it. Because they touched a hundred times a week, always, constantly, not caring about it one way or the other, but this -- this was deliberate. Not to get his attention or to slap him after a tasteless joke or to rile him up. This, the way she had her hand run up his body slowly now, with the heat from her palm scorching him through his shirt... this was because she wanted to touch him.
The little puffs of her breath against his skin came faster suddenly, and yeah, he got it, his own pulse had turned into a stuttering jackhammer, too. He turned his head a little further, just so her lips wouldn't brush his skin after all.
"I don't think this is a good idea," he pressed out and tried to fight down the mad rush of lust that insisted it was the best ever. It wasn't. There was no way in hell sex with Ziva could be good. (Okay, so technically it would be very good, possibly bordering on awesome. Just not the stuff that came afterwards.)
He waited for her to agree and back away. Waited with her scent in his nose and her heat radiating off her and his dick so hard that he could have hammered a nail in with it right now.
She never pulled back, though. Her hand just moved a bit higher, and her left came up to his chest. A flick of her thumb opened the top button of his shirt, and Tony almost gasped at the sensation of her fingertips against his skin.
"Your body likes it," she murmured, and he laughed shakily and put his hand over hers to stop her exploration.
"Yeah, well," he said, and his voice was strained enough to make more heat flare up in Ziva's eyes. God, this wasn't helping with the being rational. "My two heads disagree most of the time."
She still didn't back away, and her hand stayed against his chest, and god, this was hard. Because he really wanted her. Because she felt good, and she smelled good, and she suddenly pressed up against him, complete with her thigh sliding against his and her lips finally brushing his skin and sending a shower of goose bumps all over him.
"Tony," she breathed out, and his name was a caress against his neck. (Not helping. At all.) "I've seen you." And he knew she was talking about his dick now, and that sent his brain on shore leave and made said dick strain painfully against his pants.
And Ziva, Ziva noticed his reaction, of course. Felt his breathing turn labored and his heart hammer away against her palm. She freed her hand from his grip gently and let her fingertips trail through his chest hair while she opened another button. "I don't want to spend the next five years wondering what you could do for me."
He closed his eyes, and that was a mistake because he suddenly had the most vivid image of her arching up in that wicker chair, with her lips trembling and her face all sweaty.
She opened yet another button, and this time he didn't object. His hand came up to her hip, grasping her, and he honestly couldn't remember making that decision. But he felt her shudder in suddenly skyrocketing anticipation, and when his own fingertips traveled underneath her shirt and touched her skin, she let out a tiny hiss. She even lost track of her own exploration for a moment as she concentrated on Tony sliding his fingers up higher, skimming her ribcage until he reached the soft curve of her breast. His dick twitched almost painfully when he realized she wore no underwear at all.
Ziva held her breath, waiting for what he would do now. Waited for him to cup her breast and maybe rub her nipple, to be all impatient and to rip her clothes off because this was how things would be between them, right?
And yeah, he wanted to do that. He couldn't wait to be inside her. But there was no way in hell he would rush this. It had to last him a few years, after all.
He moved his fingertips, just let them dance across her skin a little. It was barely a caress at all, but it was enough to make Ziva gasp as if she'd been shocked. Her body arched into him involuntarily, and the sudden tension brought a slight shudder with it. Her eyelids fluttered halfway shut, and then she turned the slightest bit and tried to push her breast into his palm. And oh, yeah, he got the hint, got it loud and clear. He still pulled his hand back, and she made a frustrated little sound deep in her throat that left him throbbing hard.
"How sure are you about this?" he asked while he trailed his fingertips down her side until he reached the relatively safe zone of her pants.
Ziva's eyes snapped open, and yeah, it was sheer idiocy to ask this. To give her an easy out while she was pressing her hips against his cock and tried to ride him. He couldn't help it, though. It was too important to have her look at him in the morning without regretting it. He could get cheap thrills everywhere, but he only had one Ziva.
She stared at him for a few endless moments, and part of him waited for the other shoe to drop and her to back off, after all. Then she licked her lips and moved her hands -- not to stop touching him, but to quickly open the remaining buttons of his shirt and pull it out of his pants until she could run her hands down his chest and then hook a finger behind his belt. He stared at her with his lips parting, but no words coming out, and Ziva raised her chin and looked at him almost stubbornly. A smile made the corners of her mouth twitch, and it looked like it meant she was really, really sure and wanted some candy now, thank you very much.
"Raise your arms," he murmured, and her eyes darkened as his words sank in. There was more fire in her eyes now, but some part of him still waited for her to object, to go back to the same game they had played for years with each other. The kind of game that never leads anywhere, except one step forward and two steps back.
But this time Ziva didn't step back, and she didn't object. His cock twitched hard when her eyelids fluttered and she raised her arms above her head. She moved slowly, inch by inch, and his breathing quickened at the very deliberate way she obeyed him.
"Good," he muttered and ran his hand up her side again. He finally let go of the vodka bottle and slipped his right hand under her shirt, too. She gasped when he cupped her breast, and for a second he wasn't sure if it was the sensory overload or the lingering cold from the glass that made her nipple poke hard into his palm. Then she arched into him, and he licked his lips because he could feel the sudden, heated way her body reacted to his touch. He literally felt it, felt her heat erupt against his thigh as her hips pressed into him. His dick screamed to just give her what she wanted, to let her ride him, just like that, because it would be so, so good. It turned into an almost painful effort to stick to the slow pace, especially when she shuddered and her head fell back while she moaned for him. But yeah, it would be worth it. He was pretty sure about that.
He tightened his grip and rubbed her nipple between his fingers, all stiff and excited and so very sensitive that he had to force himself to let go of her so he could get her out of her shirt. She breathed out in a rush when he grabbed the hem and pulled it over her head, and yeah, he got it. He got the excitement about the sudden nakedness and hands touching new places and things actually going somewhere.
She kept her arms over her head even after he dropped her shirt carelessly, as if she were unsure what to do now. Or maybe she was waiting for more instructions. (And that was a thought that killed him right there because his fantasies instantly went into overdrive, even while he had her standing right in front of him and being real.)
He touched her elbows and traced slow lines down her arms, leaving goose bumps in his wake. Tension coiled her muscles, and the minute trembling that ran through her told him she tried really hard to stay still and go with his pace. The thought turned his breathing into harsh little pants while she shuddered under his hands and bit her lip and then rubbed her thigh against his to urge him on a little. Oh fuck, yeah, like that, baby.
"You're incredible," he pressed out and stared at her, his eyes running all over her and following the path of his hands. His pulse pounded harder, and she rewarded him with a tiny gasp, her head falling back when he slipped his fingers into the waistband of her pants. He popped the button, and she moaned, a rugged sound that tore through his resolve and made him press against her after all. For a moment he felt dizzy from the sensation of having her naked against his chest.
"Seriously," he murmured into her neck and ran his lips over her skin. "You are..."
And just like that he, the one who never stopped talking, ran out of words.
It took Ziva a moment to notice the switch in his mood. He watched her open her eyes and bite her lip, and he knew he probably looked like a fool, staring at her like this, but right then he couldn't help it, he could only look at her with astonishment rippling through him at the lust swirling in her eyes. He wasn't sure he deserved this.
He drew back, and she looked like she was about to protest, but the words died in her throat when he went down on his knees in front of her. She licked her lips and watched him look at her, and while she slowly lowered her arms, he pulled her zipper down.
"Tony," she murmured, and he knew she wanted to say something. She didn't have the words for it, though, and since he didn't know what to say either he just leaned forward and brushed his lips along the soft curve of her belly.
It was tempting to suck her flesh, to lick her and roll her taste around on his tongue until he was dizzy with it, but to his own surprise he found that he couldn't do that. Not when this was just to screw each other until they had it out of their system. Not when he'd wake up in the morning to only a memory of her taste. It seemed safer to do it like this, to keep this a simple touch, not too intimate, not too different from the ones they usually shared. Except this time there were less clothes involved.
He dragged her pants down her hips and let his lips follow the path he exposed, and Ziva shuddered again and put her hands to his shoulders now, maybe to steady herself, maybe to grab a feel of him. He ran his mouth along the soft curve of her hip, and she gasped and held on tight, her fingers clenching around his shoulders.
God, he wanted to lick her so bad.
Her breath came in short, harsh bursts by the time he had peeled her out of her pants, and he had to stop, had to lean his forehead against her belly for just a second and concentrate on what he was doing here. Or trying to do, rather. But then he closed his eyes, and that didn't make it any better, it just made him notice her intoxicating scent more, close, so close to his mouth, so tempting. Close enough that he could press his lips to her easily and suck her until she'd tremble and her legs would give, and maybe she'd scream for him, just a little. Or tear at his hair while she came.
And that was something he'd never be able to forget.
He drew back and looked at her, and whatever he'd been trying to do here, however hard he'd tried to distance himself from this and just do it and not think about the fact that it was really Ziva he was doing it to -- this was the moment where he failed. Where he met her eyes and saw the raw hunger and insane fire swirling there and found that this was not something he could distance himself from. Never could, really. He'd just forgotten for a moment that this was as personal as it could get.
And Ziva swallowed hard now because she'd just realized the same, but before she could pull back and decide this was a bad idea after all, he was on his feet again. His hands grabbed her, and she gasped when he pulled her up his body until she sat on the sideboard, all naked and horny and with her legs spread for him. Her hands tore at his clothes madly all of a sudden, ripping his belt open, unzipping him, and he laughed and told her to be careful. God, she was so deliciously impatient. And then she had her hand down his pants and stroked him, pulled him closer, and fuck, yeah, he didn't mind that, he didn't care at all that right now she just wanted him to get her off.
"Ziva," he groaned, and she raised her head and held his gaze while her hands pushed his pants down just enough to free him, just enough to get him inside her, and ohfuckgod that wasn't what he'd expected, that wasn't sane and controlled at all, that was wet heat and insanity and mad lust stampeding all over his senses instead, burning him up until he couldn't think anymore, could only shove deeper into her and listen to her moans and feel the way she wrapped her legs around him.
He pressed out a curse through gritted teeth and leaned over her, and that was when she closed her eyes and her head fell back and she arched into him, shuddering all over. He watched her lips move, watched that tempting mouth press out silent words he didn't understand. And suddenly he couldn't help it, couldn't fight the urge anymore, couldn't keep this on the friendly and uncomplicated side of things any longer because it wasn't. It had never been.
She moaned into his mouth when he kissed her, and then she froze in his arms. Her heart hammered against his chest, and he waited for her to get it, to realize this was suddenly more than mere fucking. It took her longer than he had thought it would, and he almost wanted to pull back then and stop making this complicated and maybe even let go of her so they could both come to their senses again. But he couldn't, really. Couldn't stop sucking her beautiful mouth and couldn't stop pushing his tongue between those tempting lips and, most of all, couldn't stop tasting her because it was simply too good. So much better than he had imagined it to be. Almost better than being inside her was.
Then her nails dug into his neck, and he groaned and tried to tear his mouth from hers after all, only to realize she didn't let him. Her thighs tightened around his hips, and yeah, her tongue chased his now until he was breathless and lightheaded and strung up in the most delicious form of madness. And no, this wasn't quite what he had planned and most likely not what she had planned, either, but he really couldn't help it. He needed it to be like this.
*** *** ***
He wasn't quite sure what to do, now that they seemed done. Maybe there was some kind of protocol that covered the proper behavior after fucking your partner senseless on a goddamn sideboard, but if there was, Tony DiNozzo had no idea what it involved.
Right now, all he could think about was how he felt Ziva's thighs tremble as she tried to keep them wrapped around his hips. He wasn't sure if that was really because she wanted to keep him inside her or if she was -- like him -- merely scared shitless of letting go now. Because letting go would have meant facing each other instead. Looking at each other and dealing with this. And they had never been really good at that sort of thing.
Seconds ticked away between them, and eventually he sighed, let his head fall forward and pressed his mouth to her neck. He'd already failed at keeping his distance, after all, and if they had ruined it all with one round of mad sex now, he might as well try to get some really good memories out of it.
A soft shudder ran through her when he licked her neck. For a moment he thought she'd shove him back now and ask him what the fuck he thought he was doing. (He'd have smiled and told her something about fucking and thinking not mixing too well.) But she didn't push him away. She arched into his touch a little more instead, and then she turned her head and ran her lips along his jaw and let her tongue flick out to taste him, too.
"That didn't really help," she murmured, and heat rushed through him at the sound of her voice, all soft and intimate and relaxed against his cheek. Playful. Affectionate, even.
God, she'd liked this just as much as he had.
"Yeah," he mumbled back and grazed her neck with his teeth until he felt goose bumps march down her back. When he pulled back to meet her eyes, he found that she didn't look at him like this had been such a bad idea after all, and for some reason he couldn't fight the grin that suddenly wanted to split his face. "Wanna try again?"
Her thighs tightened around him some more, and yeah, that was fresh heat flaring up in her eyes in response.
Look at that. Maybe he hadn't screwed this one up yet. Maybe they wouldn't regret it in the morning.
*** *** ***