Title: Our Dance
Genre: NCIS
Pairing: Tony and Ziva
Rating: M – usual rules apply, take it serious.
Timeline: Season 10, A/U, because I'm paranoid – and never right anyway.
Spoilers: Ooh the dance, and if you don't know what I'm talking about, shame on you...
Summary: It was bound to happen, even if it shouldn't, even if he could aught not allow it, his heart wanted what it wanted, and his body was intent on claiming what was rightfully his.
Disclaimer: Sigh, I only get to play.
A/N: Between life, other creative commitments, and a not so nice legal battle, Missy is taking some serious strain at the moment… so be gentle if this one does not make any sense.
Written: April 2013
Language: International English
Word Count: 3,372

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The past few weeks had been torture, sheer torture. Their time together, being so close and yet so far. Not wanting to push for something, because it might backfire, and then wanting to push for it, because it was what he wanted, needed…

Yet that had been nothing compared to that moment, and what he was experiencing… a combination downright torture, laced with sheer delight, and forbidden desire… It was heady, like a drug he could not get enough of. His heart pounded in his chest, his hands felt all sweaty, his body hot, burning, wherever it touched hers.

The ease at which they moved together, they way it felt as natural as breathing, is what made it difficult not to think that she would allow him, let him even…

She had not once resisted him, and he had to some extent expected her to, to move stiffly against him, that her guard would be up. Not that anyone but him would know it, see it. He had expected her to control the dance, because she was a strong dancer, but she had handed the lead over to him.

It was some form of bittersweet torment, one he did not really want to experience, but at the same time could not get enough of. They were close, remained close, for longer than he ever thought she would allow them. His body pressed up against hers, and her responded in kind, pressing against his, causing him to catch his breath, for it was as close an invitation as he was likely to get from her.

His thoughts turned towards the remainder of the evening, and what was still to come, they caused him to breathe in deeply as a multitude of sensations erupted within his body; sensations he could not put to words, could not explain in any way. The last time they had spent a night in the same room, the same bed, had been Paris, and even then, he had not been as attached, as close, to her as he had recently become. She had been emotionally distant then, and had needed time to heal… But this time they were both available, physically and emotionally, and it was that which scared him the most: for he knew that he would reach for her in the early witching hours, and unlike Paris, if she allowed it, he would not stop at simply holding her. Nothing short of possessing her soul would be enough, and as much as that scared him, it also thrilled him.

He pulled her lower body closer to his, an indubitable indication of what wanted from her, with her. She drew back slightly and their gazes locked. His lower body moved against hers, its response undeniable. The look in her eye was not that of reproach, which he had expected it to be: there was a hint of uncertainty, mingled with her own desire… and then it happened, her body softened against his, completely, in acceptance. She moved to place her head against his chest, as his heart pounded just that little faster and his throat suddenly seemed to dry.

That was it. That was all it took. With that single action, she had given him consent, and his mind reeled. His body started tingling in anticipation. They had been close to the periphery so many times before, had even casually joked about it a time or ten, but never before had he wanted to haul her from somewhere, with such vehement need, and strip her naked. To lay claim to her, possess her, like he has so many times in his dreams... But they were in the middle of an O.P. and they could not do that, especially not when the outcome was as important to her.

Her scent rose up to tease him some more. The feeling of her resting against him, trusting him with this, felt empowering. It was everything he has ever wanted from her: for her to really see him as a possible life partner, to want him to be that for her, in every possible sense.

His mouth felt parched, his tongue pasty as it stuck to his pallet. The room around them seemed to blur into the background, replaced by feelings and sensations. Mostly a drawing sensation, a sense of belonging started to fill him: something he had so often run from, had fought when close to other woman. Never before had he allowed them to flow unchecked, and this time he had no desire to stop them as he pulled her even closer.

"Ziva," he finally gasped. "We have a job to do; he has to atone for what he has done." He was not certain why it seemed important for him to remind her, especially when his body felt like it was steadily turning into a raging inferno. But fact remained, they did have a job to do, and as much as he graved this closeness; the comfort and warmth; the familiarity of her; the joy of finally having her willingly surrender in his arms, he could not allow for it, yet.

"I know," she murmured softly. "But I want this more."

Never before had he been as torn, but there would be a more suitable time: when she could move forward with a sense of closure and certainty. He fought to regain his composure, to beat back his desire, "We have time still."

She pulled back slightly and looked at him again, her confusion evident in her eyes, and a sense of sadness, that had not been there earlier. She looked at him for a few moments before finally inclining her head in understanding, pursing her lips.

It was later, in their shared hotel room, that things became awkward. He looked at the bed as he lifted the sheets, and somehow did not seem big enough to ensure some distance between them. He hesitantly slipped between the soft sheets, as his body once again started to tingle.

Just the knowledge that she would be lying next to him, sharing a bed with him, caused an inexorable response in his body – he really had to get another bed at home, especially since he intended for her to become a permanent resident, soon.

She stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in a white tank top and shorts, and his hands clenched the sheets in tight fists. The white tank top, which he was certain he could see her nipples through, molded to her like a second skin. Her hardened nipples not only made their location obvious, they also shouted her arousal, as certainly as his cock started to throb.

His body started to tremble, and he knew there was no way he could lie next to her, especially with her dressed like that: she might as well have been dressed in a victoria secrets gossamer gown, for the response his body gave… and he could just imagine her in an aquamarine one.

The knowledge that they were alone, and that their room was not under surveillance, did not help either. When he added to that the fact that she was aroused and he more than willing… the outcome could not be prevented, even if she wore a chastity belt under those short, which by appearance, she did not.

She had barely sat down on the bed before he moved, because nothing else seemed more important anymore. His hand slid to the back of her head, and he as good as hauled her over to his side before his lips crashing against hers. And instantly he remembered another hotel room, another kiss: only this one was hotter, deeper, it meant more…

Things instantly turned hot, his skin, her skin, his need her response. It has always been bubbling below the surface, always threatening to burst forth and consume them… God, he wanted it, wanted to feed it, be consumed by it, and her.

Their bodies synched together, as if by instinct, as they did every day on the job, following invisible cues that only they understood. His hands drifted over her body once he was certain she would not pull back from him. They traced down her back, until they reached the small stretch of skin between her top and the shorts. His fingers slid underneath the fabric, pushing it up and over her back. He was unwilling the relent her mouth, for even a second, even as his head chanted at him to stop… his body and heart would no longer be denied. They wanted her, all of her, but he couldn't, shouldn't.

They broke apart, both gasping for air as he kissed along her jaw towards her ear.

"Ziva," he huskily grunted, his hands pushing up her top. "Stop me," be begged as his forehead rested against her shoulder.

"Don't want to," she moaned in reply.

"Zi," he begged knowing he did not have the resolve to draw back again, but he did not want her to regret it, ever, or to think he took advantage of a situation.

Her hands slipped under his shirt, gliding along his skin, setting his nerve endings on fire as she worked up his shirt. Her touch made it difficult to think, hard to validate any reason for them not to.

"Tony," she moaned, and he could not tell if it was the tone of her voice; the unguarded affection within it; or simply the fact that they had waited as long, that caused him to snap.

He tugged at her shirt determined to get it off her as quickly as possible, and she did the same. It was hot, instantly so. Her reaction and response to him almost instant, like with everything else in their partnership.

He nuzzled the skin along her along her neck, drawing in every gasp and grunt she made, and then retook her lips, coaxing them open, before dipping in to have a taste of her. Their bodies pressed together, his heart racing against his chest as his hands started moving over her exposed skin. He cupped her breast, holding its soft weight in his palm, the contact sent tingles along his synapses.

The encouraging moan from her lips caused shudders to run down his spine. His heart raced, directing blood towards his groin and his rapidly swelling cock. It leapt to life, pushing against his shorts, aching to be touched, to be freed and allowed to tunnel into her body.

He shifted; his hands moved gripped her buttocks, pulling her against him, as he maneuvered them to settle on the bed. Their kiss once again broke as he scattered kissed down her neck, forming a trail of then as he moved down to her chest.

His hand slipped under her shorts, expecting to find some underwear, and grunted when there was none. Without another thought, he started working her shorts down, his lips settling around her one nipple, grunting when her fingers threaded in his hair, holding him in place as her back arched into him, and a needy moan escaped her lips.

His fingers traced along her upper leg, and she wantonly opened them for him, his fingers shifting moving higher: the increase of heat in her skin alone would have guided him. He touched her and grunted deeply, his mouth letting go of her nipple, "God, Zi, you're so…" and then moaned when his fingers slid into her.

Her hips lifted and pushed into his touch, her body welcoming his invasion, her needy grunt, reached right down to his cock, causing it to throb painfully in his shorts. Her moan quickly turned to encouraging grunts as he pulsed his fingers within her.

Her leg moved, her thigh came to rest over his as her hips pulsed against his touch. Her hand clumsily hit his chest hen shifted down to his shorts, as she gasped for breath as he instinctively sought her pace, the one that would get her even hotter… He seemed almost incapable of breathing when her hand slipped under the fabric of his boxers, his body tingled in anticipation of her touch. Her fingers wrapped round him, his mind incapable of registering anything but her touch, and how it for a moment eased the ache he felt, then fed it as her hand started moving against him, stimulating him. His hips undulated in time with hers stokes, his hand shifting against her at the same rate, allowing her to show him the best pace.

All too soon, he reached his limit, where he knew there was only one thing that would soothe the ache she caused.

His lips captured hers again, as he shifted and awkwardly shimmied out of his shorts, not wanting her to take her hand from him, but she must have realized what he was doing for the next moment her hand moved, and she was helping him.

The kiss once again broke, and a raspy, needy, "Tony," escaped her lips. Its tone was enough to cast a warming glow over his ego, nothing had ever sounded sweeter, and the same as nothing short of his death could have stopped him from rolling her onto her back.

Within a heartbeat, her body adjusted to his. It instinctively shifted into position as he came to brace over her.

His body needed almost no guidance as it pushed against hers, his lips capturing hers, teasing them, nipping at them as his hips pushed down onto and into hers. The intense heat and tightness that surrounded him on entry, stole his breath. She gasped, moaned, then grunted her approval, her hips rose up against his, her hands shot down to grab his buttocks as her thighs and body opened even more for him, welcoming him – home.

He had hardly hit full depth, when he needed to feel all over. Drawing back quickly before sinking back slowly, pushing forward, savoring every second of it. The movement within her, her body sheathed him, encouraged him, only marginally eased the ache contained within his cock, every stroke soothed it, until it was replace by another, a deeper need to possess her, to claim her. The ache was soon followed by sheer delight as they moved together, unrestricted, feeding each other's needs, totally in sync, bracing together, clutching, gasping, grunting.

Their bodies spoke for them, shifting instinctively to find what they liked best.

A different tightness began to build. He felt her tighten around him, her body stiffening against his, bracing, tightening in its anticipated release.

Everything felt hotter, softer… his heart swelled with pride, with joy, when hash, unguarded, guttural grunts started to escape her lips. Her body closed around his cock, squeezing it tightly, calling to his to respond, but it was a while still for him. The tingle had not yet started, yet he could not help the glee that filled him at the knowledge that she could get that hot for him, that it could take so little to get her off.

Displaying the willpower he had earlier lacked, had he slowed down, wanting to hold her close to the edge, wanting to prolong it. He stole kisses from her between her grunts and moans, while her body softened.

"Tony," she moaned as her hands clutched at his back. Her legs wrapped round him, and her head pushed back against the bed as she hoarsely grunted, "Good, don't stop, just like that." He braced on one elbow, his other hand moving along her side to cup her breast, her grunt of encouragement was all he needed to increase their pace.

The tingling starting low in his spine, and he kissed her again, his orgasms were always private, something her did whilst closing his eyes and distancing himself from the person he was with. Never before had he needed to share it with a woman, until that moment.

"Zi," he gasped, and almost by instinct her body, as if sensing his need, stiffened and pulses around him. Her eyes locked with his.

He gasped, knowing she was encouraging him to find his own release, to share it with her. The hairs on his body rose in anticipation. The tingling along his spine increased as his release neared.

"Ziva," he gasped, as it increased, tightened, built some more.

"Cum for me, Tony," she husked in encouragement as her arms closed around him, pulling it closer. "Let me feel it."

HE grunted, his heart swelling his body tightening, he fought to keep his eyes open, but at the last moment felt then slip shut, as the first pulse rocked through his body. His body tightened over hers as the pleasurable sensation took hold, jerking hard against her as his essence burst from his body, lost to the sensations as the second wave hit. He barely registered her body's reply, as it gripped him, milked him for more.

"More Tony, give me everything," her grunts filled his ears, and he had no idea what she meant by it, but pushed his hips down harder against hers.

Her fingers bit into his buttocks, as the last pulse expelled he last of his hot seed into her.

His breathing harsh, raspy. His body was slick with sweat, trembling from the effort as he came to rest over her. His lips reclaimed hers between gasps, nipping, tugging at them. His mind unwilling to acknowledge the fact that they had finished, his body needing some respite, before any further demands could be made upon it. Yet he was unwilling to draw back from her.

"Ziva," he gasped, lifting from her to look down at her. He brushed a sweat soaked tendril from her face, moments before their eyes met: effectively stealing whatever thought he had. The raw emotion he could see with in them, the absolute unguarded expression on her face, gave him a far deeper affirmation of her feelings than any words or discussion ever could. That to her it was the start of everything they had allowed to happen over the preceding months. That he could safely hand her his heart, for she would protect it, like she guarded his back –fiercely. It also hinted that it was to be the first of many such nights, many such moments, if he wanted it.

And he wanted it, wanted it more that his next breath, or the next session with her. He kissed her gently, then brushed soft kisses down her neck ad he pulled from her, shifting his body slightly, only to rest his head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat as his body once again settled.

Her fingers brushed though his hair as he listened to her breathing ease and her heartbeat settle: for once feeling utterly content with the world as he closed his eyes and simply soaked up the moment. His body cooled, reminding him that they needed to cover up, but he could not bring himself to move, not even an inch. For a moment fearing that she might then throw her walls again.

They had never before been this close, this connected, and it would shatter him if she pulled back now like she had in the past.

"Tony," she whispered, her hand tracing patterns along his back. Her tone held a different note, a more personal one.

He merely grunted in reply.

"We should clean up."

His instinct was to resist, to keep her where they lay… catching sight of her one nipple, so close to his mouth he moved to draw it into his mouth, savoring its taste. He wanted her to forget about ever moving from him.

Her low moan filled his ears, causing his heart to race anew. He only registered her words half way through the sentence, as she wiggled slightly under him, "…looks like it is going to be a long shower."

Her words caused him stop instantly, and to lift his gaze to meet hers, realizing that she had meant for them to clean up together. A naughty grin took control of his lips as he willingly moved from her, taking hold of her hand and drawing her with him to the bathroom.

It was going to be a long night, he was going to make certain of that….

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