Title: Everything Right
Genre: Angst, Smut, Romance
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Ziva/Liat
Characters: Ziva David, Liat Tuvia
Summary: "You did everything right, yes? At least, according to my father. You were perfect. Liat the angel, the princess. Everyone loved you."
Disclaimer: I don't own it. I wish I did. But I don't.
Author's Note: Alright, first off―I think I'm part of a minority here, but I really liked Liat. Her dynamic with Ziva was nice, and it was interesting to see someone stand up to Ziva for once because, well, she's Ziva. Plus, the looks they kept giving each other? So much subtext.
Second―I proofread this a few times, but I'm running on about four hours of sleep because I was watching horror movies last night, so there might still be typos. Feel free to tell me if you notice any.
Third―If you don't like Liat or don't ship femslash or anything of the like, then don't read this. And any flames will be ignored except when I use them to roast s'mores.
XXX
Liat's eyebrows were furrowed, her gray-green eyes narrowed and filled with suspicion as she stood in the doorway of her hotel room. She studied Ziva, and the Israeli felt like a book, and Liat was reading all of her secrets off of her pages. Her head tilted to the side, and Ziva heard the underlying malice and annoyance leaking through Liat's heavily-accented voice, "Why are you here?"
"Why are you here? I was perfectly fine with never seeing you again," Ziva responded, surprised by the bitterness in her tone. She locked the surprise inside of her, throwing away the key, and set her jaw firmly, "It is not a coincidence that you of all people replaced me. Or ended up here."
Liat pursed her lips into a scowl and motioned Ziva half-heartedly into her hotel room. For a moment, Ziva stayed glued to her spot, frozen like an ice sculpture. Finally, she deemed Liat's actions to be nothing more than courteous and she stepped slowly into the brunette's apartment. Liat closed the door behind her with a soft click and leaned against it, "I replaced you because your father trusted me. Because I was good enough."
With a roll of her eyes, Ziva let out a disbelieving snort. Liat looked older than usual as she leaned against the door, her eyes tired and full of various levels of regret and pain that had developed over the years. Ziva almost felt some sort of respect for her―she seemed like a good enough Mossad officer. But their past was woven out of bad memories and anger.
Liat had been Tali's best friend, and the two girls spent far too much time together. The brunette had been constantly abused by her father, and Ziva's mother made sure that the young girl stayed with the David family constantly. At first, when Liat had followed the older girl everywhere, Ziva felt as though it was some sort of flattery.
Then Liat started sparring and shooting guns. She was a fast-learner, with quick movements and a will stronger than most other people her age. Everything she did, she did it well, and Eli focused his attention on her even though his daughter was right in front of him, working her hardest. Eventually, she faded from his eyes as though she was sinking into the background, and Eli rarely paid any attention to her because Liat was just so…perfect.
A few strands of hair fell into Liat's face, framing it like some sort of illustration or a painting. Her voice was no longer legato and musical, instead tired and heavy, "You are still angry that your father thought I was good at Mossad training? It is sort of…immature to be stuck on the past like that, yes?"
Ziva gritted her teeth, biting back sarcastic, bitchy retorts so hard that she was surprised blood had not started leaking down her throat or over her lips. Instead, she simply said, "He stopped caring about me once you came along."
It was Liat, this time, who rolled her eyes. She said nothing, instead crossing her arms over her chest. To anyone else, the gesture probably seemed casual. But Ziva saw past the curtains and fog and she knew that Liat was protecting herself. Lack of trust bubbled between them, and Liat was preparing in case Ziva tried to hit her. This only made Ziva more annoyed.
"You did everything right, yes? At least, according to my father. You were perfect. Liat the angel, the princess. Everyone loved you. They acted like you were some sort of fallen angel!" Ziva was close to furious now, her voice rising in volume and echoing around the room. She could almost feel the sounds rebounding off the walls and rattling in her bones.
Liat swallowed thickly but did not back down, even though Ziva was right in her face. Her eyes were narrowed, and Ziva could see the different emotions and unspoken words fit for a much older person waging a war in the green-gray depths. Her jaw was set, and Ziva noted the way the muscles in her throat were twitching as she held back what she wanted to say.
"All I ever wanted from him was approval. But he gave every word of praise to you! And you are not even his daughter. But you never cared, yes? Did you ever even think that I was hurting because he treated you like his princess? I am supposed to be the one he praises, the one who he thinks is perfect. Not you!" Ziva bared her teeth in something close to a snarl, her lips literally inches from Liat's. Their bodies were so close that Ziva could smell the orange scent of the shampoo or body wash the younger woman must have been using.
Liat finally spoke, and there was so much acid dripping in her voice that Ziva swore she felt some of it burn her as the brunette spat out the words, "At least you had a father who treated you like a person, who gave you food, who did not hit you! He did not treat you like a dog or…or garbage! Yours was the only father I ever had!"
"It was because of you that he never cared about me! I worked so hard to be perfect for him and it was always you! He never cared. He never knew anything about my life!" She yanked up the sleeve of her shirt, revealing the horrible memories that she had carved on to the skin of her forearm. They glared up at her and Liat, and just seeing them made her chest burn, "He never knew that I did this! Is that really the sign of a father who cared about me?"
Instead of responding verbally, Liat roughly caught Ziva's chin and yanked her into a bruising kiss. Ziva did not fight back, because the contact was glorious and it was exactly what she needed. Her hands slid up, raking through Liat's hair as she freed it from her neat ponytail and sinking into her skin as she tried to pull the other woman's body into her own. She wanted more. She wanted them to become one being, skin melting into skin, heat melting into heat.
Sharply, she smashed Liat back against the door of the hotel room, pleasure fizzling in her stomach when she heard the brunette's slight whimper when her shoulder-blades thumped against the wood. Liat simply kissed her harder though, and Ziva could feel all of their anger and resentment and lack-of-trust boiling over and pooling around their feet as their bodies pressed together harshly.
Ziva ran her tongue along Liat's lips, noting in the farthest reaches of her mind that the younger woman's lips were wonderfully soft. Liat opened her mouth against the dark-haired Israeli's, and their tongues dueled in a raw, angry, desperate dance. Drowning in flavors and explosions of fire behind her eyelids, Ziva managed to take in the taste of chocolate and desire in Liat's mouth.
Her palms raked over the front of the younger woman's t-shirt, pressing against her breasts none-too-gently. Liat groaned into the kiss and slid her own hands under Ziva's t-shirt, dragging her blunt fingernails along the older Israeli's spine and leaving long, delicious trails of stinging heat down Ziva's skin.
Ziva broke the kiss to suck in air, and Liat took the opportunity to press a trail of kisses along the older Israeli's neck. Her lips danced along Ziva's skin, leaving wet patches and the faint outlines of marks that Ziva would worry about covering up in the morning. Tugging Liat's shirt out from her cargo pants, Ziva slid her palms over Liat's stomach. She felt the rippled traces of abs under her hands, and she memorized the muscles for a moment before allowing her hands to travel higher.
Hard nipples pressed against Ziva's palms through the fabric of Liat's bra, and Ziva slid her fingers under the lace. She decorated the younger woman's chest with touches at varying levels of roughness, drowning in the feeling of Liat's tongue caressing her collarbone. Ziva dragged her fingernails slowly down Liat's chest, over the valleys and hills of her muscles until they rested at the hem of her pants.
She would have asked the younger woman if she was ready, but Ziva was still angry and she did not really care. Her fingers fumbled blindly at the button of Liat's slacks, and the younger woman took the chance to slide her own fingers past Ziva's jeans. They pressed roughly against Ziva's underwear, and the older Israeli knew that she had probably soaked through the flimsy garment. She wanted this. She wanted to take all of her anger out on Liat until they were lying, panting on the floor. She could let regret come through later.
Ziva's fingers sunk into coarse curls and wet heat, and she heard Liat moan against her shoulder. In response to the sound, Ziva fused her lips with the younger woman's once more, harsh and unrelenting. She could feel bruises slowly appearing on her lips, and she knew that she would have to explain them tomorrow. But she could worry about that later.
Liat did not hesitate at all, quite suddenly pushing two long, thin fingers into Ziva's throbbing heat. With that motion, everything shifted from mostly-controlled to messy and rough and needy. Two of Ziva's own fingers worked in and out of Liat's body, pressing and dragging along her inner walls as her thumb rolled rough circles around her clit.
They were both moaning and grinding against each other's harsh touches, their breathing heavy and desperate. There was no sense in Ziva's mind what-so-ever as moans fell off of her lips, her heat clenching around Liat's fingers in an attempt to keep the burning in her abdomen there forever.
Liat nipped at her neck and her ears and her collarbone, leaving small marks that stung in the best way possible. Ziva continued to run her free hand over Liat's stomach, scratching at her skin and listening to the low, staccato moans and gasps that the touches drew from Liat's throat.
Ziva's mind was a mess of fractured, blurred, undistinguishable thoughts. She reveled in the senselessness, and all she could really make out in her own thoughts was oh my god and a mixture of swear words in various languages. Her fingers moved erratically, but Liat did not seem to mind the lack of rhythm.
The burn in Ziva's stomach grew far more noticeable, and she knew she was close. Her legs were shaking, and she was surprised she was still standing. Liat was moaning consistently, her walls pulsing and tightening around Ziva's fingers, and the older Israeli knew that the brunette was getting close as well.
She moved her fingers faster; thumb still circling Liat's clit. Her fingernails raked roughly enough down Liat's stomach to leave scratches and draw a sharp gasp from Liat's throat. The younger woman bit down on Ziva's collarbone, and her fingers dragged down Ziva's inner walls. That was all Ziva needed, and she came with a strangled scream.
Liat's own orgasm hit a second or two after Ziva's did, and Ziva barely registered her moaning and swearing over the blood rushing past her ears. A moment later, Liat freed her fingers from Ziva's heat and slid to the floor. Ziva went with her, seeing as the brunette's left hand was still tangled in her shirt where she had grabbed it when she came.
For a few moments, there was nothing but ragged breathing as they came to terms with what they just did. Ziva could feel her neck stinging from the bite marks Liat had left on her skin, and she could just see the edges of the scratches she had left down Liat's stomach as the younger woman's shirt rode up around her naval. She had not drawn blood, but the skin was rippled and jagged and it looked painful.
Ziva had not realized how rough the sex was until she looked Liat over, taking in her ruffled hair and her swollen lips and her scratch-covered skin. Her own body throbbed in various places, and she knew that she would be sore in the morning.
Once her legs stopped tingling, Ziva pushed herself to her feet and readjusted her clothes. Liat frowned up at her, and Ziva could see that she really wanted to say something. But they both knew that this meant nothing, and it would never happen again. They would go back to glaring and resenting and arguing.
With a small sigh that sounded almost…sad, Liat scooted away from the door and allowed her eyes to narrow. The malice was back, and Ziva allowed tension and anger to fizzle between them once more, "Shalom, Officer Tuvia."
There was an instant where Liat looked like she wanted to ask Ziva to stay. But Ziva saw the way her jaw clenched as she bit her tongue, and the older Israeli raised her chin. She was not going to stay. She did not want to stay. None of it meant anything, and Liat needed to realize that.
Ziva said nothing more, simply walking out of the hotel room. The door did not shut quickly enough to keep her from hearing the half-sob that escaped from Liat's mouth.
Ziva swallowed back guilt and walked away.
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