Title: Asking For It
Pairing: McGee/Ziva
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Het
Cat: Fluff, Humor, Romance
Spoilers: 6X06 - Murder 2.0
Warnings: None.
Summary: McGee gets caught with Ziva's bikini pictures again . . . and again. How does Ziva punish him?
Author's Note: Written for the Eighteen Ways Challenge on NFA. (Ask me if you want to know more about the website!)
The first time, she ordered him to give her his hand. Pressure points, breaking fingers, who knows what her intentions were. She just wanted to teach him a lesson, make sure he understood what would happen if she caught him again. If he experienced pain, chances are he would listen to her, and this whole debacle would be over.
But what she hadn't counted on was the depth of his intrigue, his almost infatuation. He wasn't afraid of her; on the contrary, really - her threats, the danger she possessed, turned him on like nothing else. It was the idea of what she would do to him if he was discovered again, how she could possibly punish him, that drove him to leave her pictures up as the desktop on his computer. It was part of what had made him agree when Tony had begged the pictures off him. If Ziva found out, he thought, she would be so pissed.
But damn, was she gorgeous when she was mad.
Oh, of course he was terrified when she had found out. Even if she was sexy as hell, with her eyes boiling like a pot of the darkest coffee (and damn, that comparison made him want her even more, as much as he loved coffee), she was still an assassin, and not someone who should be taken lightly. But under his babbling attempts to save his own life, under the sweaty brow and chapped, nervous lips, McGee's heart was fluttering madly out of control. It was a serious problem and would probably lead to his demise (tempting Ziva, that was, not the heart thing), but he also knew that Ziva would never actually kill him. He would put on that pout, the one that made her all soft in the knees (oh, yeah, he had learned to read her ages ago), and she would be as easy to lead around as Jethro when he was hungry. He had this in the bag.
Or so he thought.
The second time came on a Tuesday. McGee was distracted - it was a new week, they hadn't had any cases yet, and he was thinking about the twist he was going to put in his next novel (how Officer Lisa had suddenly realized an overwhelming attraction to Agent McGregor and acted ferally, pouncing on him in the elevator when they went to leave at the end of the day one day). He excused himself to go to the restroom, and as he was going about his business, suddenly felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickling, as if there were someone behind him. He stiffened.
"I've warned you more than once, Timothy," the voice came, and if he hadn't already been standing in front of a urinal, McGee was sure he would have wet his pants.
"Uh . . ." he stuttered, then cleared his throat. "Ziva. What are you doing in here? You have some kind of secret fetish with men's bathrooms or something?" He laughed nervously. Even as he feared for his life, he could feel himself rising to the occasion, so to speak, which just made the situation even worse. He just hoped . . .
"Get your mind out of the gutter, McGee," Ziva demanded, and he snapped out of his thoughts, staring straight ahead.
"Um, uh . . ." he started again, trying his best to sound authoritative and failing. "I'll ask again, what are you doing in here?"
He suddenly felt her hand - at least, he thought it was her hand - on his back, pressing down firmly. He gulped, unsure of just what she had in mind, and then he felt her warm breath on his ear. "All I have to do is push up, McGee. Your backbone will break, and you will die. Do you really want that?"
He furrowed his brow. "No. Um, I don't think I do."
She nipped at his earlobe, causing him to flinch, and then laughed at his reaction. Her hand that had been on his back snaked around to the front of his pants and when McGee realized where it was headed, quickly reached down to cover his crotch. Ziva laughed again, nuzzling her nose against his neck.
"Delete them," she said, sticking out her tongue and licking his skin. He tried not to tremble at the contact. "If you do not . . . your testicles will be next." She delivered a tiny bite to the side of his neck, making him whimper.
Just then, the door opened and an unsuspecting agent walked in, freezing in place when he saw the two of them, Ziva's arm still wrapped around McGee's waist and her mouth still on his neck. McGee opened his mouth to speak, but Ziva beat him to it.
"Something wrong?" she asked. The agent shook his head slowly, reaching behind himself for the door handle. Ziva raised her eyebrows. "Good. Now do you mind?" He shook his head again, more vehemently this time, and quickly exited the bathroom, leaving McGee to Ziva's devices again. She turned her attention back to him, her hand creeping closer to where both of McGee's hands covered his area protectively. "Do we have a deal, McGee?" she asked in a threatening murmur.
He nodded. "Yeah. Uh, definitely."
"Good," she said, and just like that . . . was gone.
McGee sagged down in relief, glad to be rid of the danger . . . but still hot as hell.
It was another ten minutes before he returned to his desk.
He never did erase the images from his computer, nor did he make special efforts to hide them. Granted, they weren't out for everyone to see, but if Ziva had truly wanted to check, it wouldn't have taken her long to find them, either.
Instead, he continued to let his heart lead him around, rather than listening to his usually logical brain and eliminating the odds of Ziva killing him. Well, for having the pictures. He was sure she would be able to think of another reason to dispose of him if she really wanted.
Weeks went by without incident, and they continued their little games. He would drop a file, find her watching and announce, "Oh, let me get that," then proceed to bend over, giving her a nice, clear view of his ass. Or she would act interested in what he was doing on his computer and stand behind him, leaning over enough so her breasts were brushing his shoulder and her mouth was nearly resting on his ear. Tony, being his usual oblivious self, didn't even notice anything different, and Gibbs would roll his eyes, but never did anything to stop them. He knew it wouldn't make much of a difference, anyway.
Most nights, McGee would go home with a smile on his face, thinking of how he had escaped another day of Ziva's punishment. One night in particular, he had just sat down at his writing desk with the idea of working on the seduction scene between Lisa and McGregor when his phone rang. He sighed and answered it. "McGee."
"Gee, don't sound so happy to hear from your sister, Tim," the voice on the other end said.
He smiled. "Hey, Sarah," he said, and gave Jethro, who had just trotted over and was sniffing at McGee's pants, a pat on the head. The dog panted happily and McGee turned his attention back to his sister. "What can I do for you?"
"Do I need a reason to call my big brother?" she asked. "Maybe I just wanted to chat."
He sighed. He really wanted to work on that scene. "I'd love to, Sarah, but I was just sitting down to write . . ."
"Oh, that's right," Sarah said knowingly. "You were in the process of putting down your masturbatory fantasies about the lusty Officer Lisa, weren't you? Or, should I say, Agent McGregor's fantasies?" Her giggles sounded loud and tinny through the phone and McGee gritted his teeth.
"Ziva and I are friends, Sarah. That's it."
"Yeah, but that doesn't mean you don't imagine her naked from time to time," Sarah said, and McGee could just see her grin on the other end of the line. "Come on, Tim. I know all about those pictures."
McGee bolted out of his chair. "How . . ." he started, but an angry rapping at the door made him pause. He pulled the phone from his ear and called, "Who's there?"
"It is me, McGee," a voice called back.
"Ooh," McGee heard Sarah say, and held the phone to his ear again, keeping an eye on the door. "Sounds like your girlfriend's there."
McGee temporarily about his guest as he hissed at his sister. "Would you shut up! She's not . . ."
"McGee, if you do not open this door right now, I will break it down!" Ziva's angry voice filtered through the door.
"Uh . . . just a minute, Ziva!" McGee called back to her, then turned his attention back to Sarah again. "Listen, Sarah, I . . ." He was cut off as his door flew open, slamming into the wall and revealing an irate Ziva in the doorway. He gulped. "Gotta go."
He quickly hung up on Sarah, then turned to the doorway again. All he could do was stare. Ziva looked like a furious angel, her hair loose around her shoulders and her eyes blazing, just burning holes right into him. He thought there was an aura about her, a light she radiated and made her glow . . . but that was just his desk lamp, which happened to be pointed at the door. He let out a sigh. He needed to return to the situation at hand . . .
"So, what do I owe the pleasure?"
That was all it took. Ziva came charging at him, flinging the door shut with a loud 'crack!' as she did so. She stopped just before she reached him and held up a hand. "Do you not take me seriously, McGee?"
He matched her stare. "Of course I do."
She let out a huff, but kept her eyes hard. "Then why don't . . ."
She didn't get the chance to finish her statement, as McGee's lips were suddenly on hers, smothering the rest of her words, and his hand gripped the back of her head, crushing their mouths together. She allowed herself to melt into the kiss, but then remembered she was supposed to be mad at him and pushed him away.
And slapped him across the face.
To his credit, McGee didn't reel back from the contact. It was like he had expected it. They stood staring at each other, breathing heavily, no words exchanged between them.
Then Ziva grabbed McGee and kissed him the way he had kissed her. Her hands came up and laced through his hair as sucked at his lips, letting the sexual tension that had been building for so long to shatter, to explode into this fierce kiss that threatened to suck the life right out of both of them. Then, as Ziva was hefting a leg onto McGee's thigh, wrapping it around his waist, he broke away from the kiss, panting, and said, "I thought you were mad at me."
"I am," she responded, and kissed him again, lifting up her other leg. He took the hint and grabbed her ass, giving her a seat made from his hands.
He pulled away again, but began walking them to his bedroom. "So why did you kiss me?"
"Why did you kiss me?" she countered, turning her attention to his neck this time.
McGee tried to pay attention to answering her question, but found his eyes rolling back into his head in pleasure instead, and the fruity scent of Ziva's shampoo and the sweet taste of her chap stick (was it strawberries? God, that was so hot . . .) didn't help to keep him focused. "Oh . . . um . . . You're just . . ." he started, continuing to lose his train of thoughts to Ziva licking and biting at his neck. "You looked so sexy standing there! I couldn't help myself!"
This time, it was Ziva who pulled away. She looked him in the eyes. He looked slightly embarrassed, but his eyes were still heavy with lust. "McGee," she said simply and he winced.
"Yeah?" he asked in a tiny voice.
She leaned in close to his ear. "I may know 18 ways to kill someone with a paper clip, and dozens with my bare hands . . ." She trailed off briefly, waiting until McGee anxiously shifted her on his hip before continuing. "But the number of skills I've learned in bed is endless."
McGee's eyes widened as he realized what she was saying and he resumed their trek to his bedroom, kissing her entire way. It just went to show, sometimes a little pain was a good thing.
THE END!
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