A/N: I know I said AGES ago that I was going to post the last installment to my little Tiva Series, but it just didn't want to speak to me. This did, and it's been cooking for sometime now and I finally got it to a point where I don't hate it.
This is all of the M. Smut, smut and more smut, and a little angst at the begnning. You have been warned. I hope you like it though.
For Manda, Hope this equates to a cookie :)
He blew it.
He fucking blew it. Ugh, what was he thinking?
He wasn't obviously.
Ziva's father died less than a month ago; she buried him in Israel less than two weeks ago. One week without her had been torture, filled with nightmares of 'what if's and 'it could have been her.' He was so relieved to see her at work seven days later, in the flesh. He had argued with himself as to whether he should pick her up from the airport. McGee would have found her itinerary in a second, but Ziva hadn't told him which flight or what time she'd be coming back. For a very scary moment, he thought she might stay in Israel. So Tony opted to stay away for a little longer even though all he wanted to do was be there for her, At Lo Levad, he whispered in her ear. If she had nodded the right way – or even blinked – he would have been on the plane next to her in a heartbeat – work be damned.
So he stupidly decided to invite her to his apartment to... what? Get drunk and have mind blowing sex? Coz that's what happened.
Tony had wanted to help her grieve, to be there if she needed as a friend and a shoulder to cry on, someone to beat up, to tell silly stories about her father, to reminisce; but wine had been opened – quite a few bottles, in fact – and then they had moved onto his scotch stash, and in his drunken haze he confessed what he had been thinking for many years now.
I should have kept it to my-fucking-self! The painful thought flittered through his brain. He had told her for all of her father's faults, Eli was the reason Tony had her in his life and while they hadn't met under promising circumstances, he was eternally grateful – because he can't imagine life without her, not now. He'd been there and done that after the Damocles and everything in life had lost its meaning: he'd lost his light. Tony had told her he was grateful to Eli for raising such a beautiful, smart, amazing woman... That he loved.
Ziva blinked at his admission and didn't dare stray from his gaze. He was too buzzed to read her emotions as well his sober self and panic had spread through his veins as she kept silent; those beautiful eyes focused only on him; sizing him up. Just as he opened his mouth to apologise and backpedal as best he could, Ziva spoke. She had asked him if he meant it.
Smiling, he stupidly said, 'with all his heart.'
Her lips had curled up in a sweet smile before leaning towards him and fusing her mouth to his. She had tasted amazing! Of the good scotch they were sipping, and honey and a smooth flavour he'd only experienced once before. But this time, the kiss had so much more than eight years ago when they had been undercover. Tony had still been intrigued and attracted to the Israeli – probably because he had a death wish – but now? Now they'd been partners for eight years: eight years of ups and downs, deaths and bombs, girlfriends and fiancés, thick sexual tension and sunken ships. After all the shit they'd waded through, Tony and Ziva were still here, still breathing and surviving, and more importantly: still together. It was because of those eight years that Tony's heart had been about to short circuit on him. Eight years of everything was fuelling their lips and giving the kiss unstoppable momentum.
That delicious momentum had led them to his new king sized bed, and hours of moans, shouts, bites and kisses.
Cold sheets greeted his fingertips as he reached over and grasped at her indent. He groaned in annoyance at himself for being so damned selfish, for getting just drunk enough that he couldn't say no to her and her enticing body, that he had fucked everything up in one perfect night.
Fucking stupid.
The worst part was, he knew perfection now, and its name was Ziva David.
If you had told him when they first met, that he would eventually fall head over heels in love with her, he'd laugh at you, so very hard and keep laughing possibly for days. But now, it was no laughing matter: it was heartbreaking.
And she was gone. Long gone, from the coolness off the soft cotton sheets.
Damn it. They had come so far, starting to open up and then her father was killed not twenty feet from her and she reverted back to the tough, closed up Mossad Assassin. And then she had come back home, Ziva had said; and she had opened up, letting him back in, and giving him hope. All that hope was gone now, with her, out his front door.
And the worst of all this, he'll have to see her on Monday or maybe tomorrow if they get a case, or even later today for that matter, and all of this hurt and ache was going to come back and shoot him straight through the heart when he sees her gorgeous face.
A sigh of defeat escapes his lungs.
They had been amazing last night, even in their inebriated states, and from his experience it would only get better.
She hadn't stayed though.
Ziva had left.
The only time in over twelve years Tony had let a woman into his sanctuary, finally opening up to that intimacy and trust after so long, where he hadn't been able to escape, Ziva had gone and done it for him.
Oh, God! Is this what it feels like? Tony hated himself for so many one night stands, for making those women go through something like the pain that was surging through his chest. But he doubted what they felt was quite like this. The women may have been annoyed and hurt and possibly disgusted at his actions, but Tony felt like his heart had been torn out and he'd been sewn up with an empty cavity; and he doubted in the few hours they spent together would make them ache quite like this.
Finally, after much debate on whether or not he should just lie in his now endless bed and die there, Tony decided to get up and be a man. Grab a glass of concrete and harden the fuck up. Or at least act like it, and he's honestly the best actor in the world. He's been lying to himself and the team longer than he can remember, so what's another layer to add to that Leaning Tower of Lies?
As he sat up, the nausea set in, and this time he lied to himself: it's just the hangover. Not that nagging, stomach curling feeling of loneliness and desertion.
Oh, God! What would he do if Ziva acted like it never happened? Her telling him it was a mistake - a very good one - and it won't happen again, was better than a flat out dismissal. If went the other way, withdrawing from him emotionally, but still worked with him every day, it would kill him. Tony couldn't go back to their non-sharing relationship. If she pretended like nothing happened and became distant it would strip him of his skin and torture him to his very soul. It was Tony's insane need to know what was going on in her head, and since they've been sharing more and their post-elevator-them, it's become an addiction.
Betrayal came from his stomach as it growled in hunger. Another part of him was stirring from a different kind of hunger as her perfume wafted from the discarded sheets, making him relive mouth watering details of their activities. Remembering the way she kissed him, touched him, sucked him, made blood rush south of the border, and he couldn't stop the delicious images of Ziva flicking in his brain.
Tony had stilled when he finally got her naked, seeing all the scars marring her beautiful skin along her breasts, stomach, thighs and so many more places. Anger had flared in his stomach and a hatred filled him as Tony wished he was the one who got to kill the bastard, to take the fucker's life that had hurt his Ziva. A flash of uncertainty had flicked across her eyes as he stopped and relived the moment of Saleem's death, and Ziva had tried to cover herself up again, grabbing wildly for her shirt.
The last thing he ever wanted to do was make her uncomfortable or embarrassed. He loved her, after everything they had been through, and being scarred and tortured by a terrorist wasn't going to change that for him. So he had bent his head to her chest, kissing the marred flesh over her left breast tenderly, feeling her heart beating under his lips. Instantly he felt her relax, and he moved to the next scar, kissing it gently, too. Her hand had moved into his hair, grabbing at the short hairs as he moved over her body, kissing every scar he could find, touching them and mapping every inch of her glorious body.
The only wild movements she had after that was when he made her come. And fuck him, watching and feeling her come boosted his ego into the next millennium, and made him so very fucking satisfied without him reaching his own happy place.
Great. Now he had three different kinds of ache: heartbreak, hunger and blue balls.
Ziva David is still screwing with him and she's not even there.
After an age, he's left the mattress and makes his way to the fridge, not bothering to cover up because he lives alone and if someone has a telescope trained through his window, let them look and get a show. Cracks and groans expel from his body as his arms reach into the air. Not as much as usual and that usually happens after night time activities.
He opens the fridge and peers in at the barely there contents as the cold air wafts over his skin. It does nothing for the hard on, though.
'Hmm, that is definitely a look.'
Is he that fucking crazy he's hearing her voice, too?
Gingerly, he turns his head looking over his shoulder and there she is, his Ziva, perched on the opposite counter in his worn Ohio shirt, with wild, tousled hair and still swollen lips. The overstretched collar has slipped down exposing her shoulder and the mark he left along her tendon. And fuck, his dick just took a thrilling hit. She was the embodiment of sex and quite possibly the best hallucination ever.
Brown eyes wrinkle when his jaw stays slack with no witty DiNozzo comment coming to fulfilment.
'I was going to wake you, but you seemed so peaceful, though I was getting a little restless by myself.'
How long has she been out here?
'Three hours, I think.' she answered, he hadn't realised he actually asked her.
A feeling of absolute jerkiness spreads through him, settling in his gut. Honestly, he should know better, she's an early riser. Why didn't he just look around his apartment before jumping to conclusions?
He turns to face her fully, letting the fridge door swing closed behind him, an apology bursting to be realised, but she beat him to it.
'Did you think that I had left?' Ziva asks quietly, already knowing the answer. But the look on her face is calm and soft, and nothing like the anger he expected from his bad judge of character.
'I wouldn't blame you if you had, Ziva,' his eyes are pleading for forgiveness. He watches as she slips off the opposite counter walking around to him slowly. A soft hand brushes against his stubble and damn it, he's melted like warm butter. His eyes slip closed while her thumb gently brushes the rough skin.
'I couldn't do that to you, Tony. Just could not leave after everything we've been through and let you think that it meant nothing.'
His green eyes snap open at that. 'So it did mean something?'
'To me, it did,' she says, shrinking away from his body, and his cheek burns from where her hand had been. 'I do not know if it meant anything to you.'
In one quick move he grab her wrist, pulling her against his body, while his other cups the back of her neck to keep her in place while he kisses the breath out of her.
After a moment of shock, she kisses him back, just as hungrily and he feels like all of his Christmases have come true. She pulls at his neck, fingers pulling at the short hairs at his hairline, making him want her even more.
Eventually they pull apart, panting and smiling.
'Does that answer your question, Sweet Cheeks?'
'Do you still mean what you said last night, or was that just to get in my pants?'
He hummed, cupping her cheek and looked her straight in the eyes. 'I spent most of my morning, awake in that big bed, wondering how the hell I was going to survive without you. I thought I had fucked this up, fucked us up; that I lost you and it tore me up,' his thumb pressed against her lips, hushing her silently as she tried to say something. 'I didn't just say that to get into your pants. Hell, sleeping with you was the last thing on my mind when I invited you over, but it happened and I wouldn't take a second of it back for the world.'
A flush broke out across her cheeks and Ziva ducked her head against his chest.
'Did I just make the Israeli blush?'
Ziva pinched his side making him squeak. 'I'm American now, DiNozzo.'
'How could I forget.'
Lips kissed at his chest, and the pain in his gut returned, making his balls ache again. Uncertainty was still laced on her features when she looked back up at him.
'What about Gibbs and Rule 12?'
'You're worth it; we're worth it.' he told her without hesitation. 'Besides, this is a bit more than just dating.'
'Hmm?' she asked, her hand slipping down between them and grabbing his length. 'And what is this?' Her eyes sparkled mischievously in the double meaning of her words as her small hand slowly makes its way down his dick to the base before pulling back to his tip.
'You not playing fair,' he manages, his forehead resting against hers, laboured breaths leaving his mouth. He moans, low and deep when she tugs him a little roughly, her thumb smoothing over his tip teasingly. 'This is hot and right and God damned perfect, Ziva.'
Her lips curl beautifully before she crushes them against his, biting at his lower lip and her tongue delving into his mouth hungrily. 'I happen to agree. And it would be a terrible shame to waste this good piece of meat,' she giggles – actually giggles at him – and he loves this side of her, loves that he's the one bringing it out.
A growl escapes him, animalistic and possessive, and his arms wrap around her waist, hauling her up on the bench. His shirt left her body within seconds of her new home and he found her bare and inviting and an intoxicating addition to his kitchen counter, and he can't help but stare at her in awe in all of her naked glory. Forcefully, she grabs his head after what felt like an eternity of him ogling her form, angling him towards her breasts and Tony is all too glad to be told where to go.
Her hungry moans fill his kitchen, egging him on to touch her everywhere he could. His lips never stop as he mouths at her chest, nipping playfully, sucking at her nipples and licking at her skin. His fingers tease at her thighs, grazing her skin gently, getting closer to where she wanted him most before slipping back down to her knees. Ziva's hips start to follow the slow the movement of his hands and he knows she's getting frustrated with him. Tony's hand finally slip between her legs finding her hot and ready and he pushed aside his need to be in her for a moment, as difficult as it was.
'Tony,' she gasped when his slipped fingers inside her, his thumb on her clit, working her thoroughly.
Ziva pulled his face back up to hers; kissing desperately and he could feel her coming, slowly unravelling at his motions. Her moans erupted in his mouth as Ziva's body clamped on his fingers, hips writhing on his bench, heels digging into his arse.
Fuck, I love her. Love her so much it hurts.
'I love you, too, Tony,' Ziva whispers against his lips. And yet again, his mouth slipped up. He hadn't meant to say anything, but there's no way he's taking it back. Ever.
And fuck him if it doesn't feel amazing to hear her say it.
He kisses her again, wrapping his tongue around hers and pulling her hips towards the edge of the counter. Tony breaks away from her lips for a moment, because he has to watch her face, to see the emotions flick across her gorgeous features as she comes down from her climax. All too quickly, she's grabbing his length and angling him towards her centre, teasing them both with slow swipes of her heat. When it becomes too much, Tony finally takes control and thrusts into her slowly, carefully, filling her to the brim. Ziva moans gutturally, as he stops, revelling in the feel of being inside Ziva David, and waiting for her to adjust to his size. She beams at him, panting slightly, and Tony can already see the flush beginning at her neck. He has to taste her then, and he licks and sucks at her neck. She mewls, arching towards him and he feels the vibrations through his mouth.
Ziva starts to wiggle impatiently while his hips remain unmoving, only attacking her neck with his lips, but he can't seem to pull him mouth away from her hot skin. Before he realises, he's given her a hickey to match the one on her shoulder, but this one is high up on her neck, visible for everyone to see. As he admires his handiwork, his thumb traces the raised skin and that primitive part of him is utterly satisfied because now everyone knows she belongs to someone – to him. And then fear kicks in a little. Gibbs. Not exactly something you think about when you're balls deep inside your partner... but he thinks he's fucked up again, because the man who has given him his career, who has saved Tony and Ziva's lives on countless occasions, will see it as a betrayal. He did when Tony was sleeping with E.J. If anything, this is worse. Ziva is Tony's partner; on his team, whereas E.J. was on a different team. And, let's not mention the fact that Gibbs sees Ziva as his daughter. Sleeping with the boss's daughter...
Ziva can tell he's gone to some faraway place that's nowhere near their joined bodies, because she wiggles again, digging her nails into his back as she claws to get him closer and to get him moving. She's utterly worth it, Tony thinks again with renewed vigour, we're worth it. Tony will take any crap from their boss and he'll promise anything or tell him to stick Rule 12 up his arse – or something along those lines – because he loves this woman, and Ziva is everything to him.
Her hips start to move back and forth, finally getting friction between their stationary bodies, and he almost loses it. Tony captures her mouth, hard and rough, and starts his long, torturous strokes to make her unravel and scream his name. Ziva matches him with lips and hips, clawing at his hair and nails biting into his arse, pulling him towards her with every thrust.
Tony pulls away from her lips eventually, only for a desperate pull of air, and she takes the opportunity to suck at his neck. His hips falter when her hot, wet mouth latches on to his skin, making him cry out and dig his fingers into her backside. He hears and feels her giggle, tracing her tongue along the chosen piece of skin and he can't take anymore of his own slow pace.
With great speed, he lets loose, almost pulling her off the counter as Tony pounds into her with a driving force that surprises even himself. Ziva is helpless and hangs onto his neck, moaning and calling out his name as she starts to quiver and tremble.
And then he feels her convulse, tightening around his hard length, hips moving erratically and he wishes he could stop himself, to hold back and give her many more orgasms, but his dick has other ideas. Ziva sucks in a breath, moaning his name like a prayer and it has his balls tightening and lighting shooting up his spine. He comes, hips pounding into her on their own accord and her name spilling from his lips as he trembles with every thrust.
His head falls into the crook of her neck only to have her fingers run through his hair lovingly and gently. They're both still panting as his heavy head is pulled up to hers, mouths meeting lazily as reality returns, and he honestly can't even think about removing his slowly softening dick from her heat.
Ziva's languid moan and roaming hands had Tony coming back to reality; his mouth tracing lazily up her neck until he captured her lips.
'Fuck,' he groans into her mouth, his brain not quite catching up. 'That was-'
She cuts him off with another kiss and he's only too happy to be distracted. 'You keep this up, Tony, and I will not want to leave,' she mumbled against his lips.
'Who says I'm going to let you,' he teased with a smirk. Tony rolled his tongue one more time over hers before finding the strength to separate from her body. 'Let's get you cleaned up and then we'll get some breakfast.'
Ziva slid off the counter gracefully, tracing her fingers up his torso before smacking his butt. 'Better make it a delivery, my Little Hairy Butt,' she said before stalking off to the bathroom. 'I plan on devouring you again with breakfast,' she calls from the other room.
He hears the shower starting and even though it's been less than ten minutes since he came, Tony can already feel the hard on forming at the thought of Ziva slick and wet in the shower, and then having a side of David with breakfast.
Oh yes, Tony thought, we're not leaving this apartment for a while. The take-out places are going to love me!
Ziva's happy, lustful squeals echoed through the apartment as Tony joined her in the shower, followed by many, many more moans.
A/N: Thoughts?
Reviews give me a happy :)