A/N: Well, I was unexpectedly attacked by another plot bunny from my Revelations Zibbs universe. Chronologically, this takes place between my "Unwelcome Visitors" and "Out of the Shadows" stories and is in response to the epsisode "Guilty Pleasure" (7 x 19). I have changed the ending to that to fit my universe, as you might expect. There will be an epilogue to close this out that will be posted soon. This one is for gosgirl and Bamacrush, who were enthusiastically insistent (why, one might almost say demanding ^_^) that I should indeed write out this little idea I had...more than 5,000 words later (with more to come), here you go. :) Happy reading everyone!
Gibbs pulled into his driveway and stared at the house for a moment. He thought of it as their house, but knew Ziva really didn't yet, even after nearly two years of being a couple. 'Course, when no one else truly important knew they were living together, he guessed he could understand that.
He hoped Ziva was there, but he wasn't sure she was even though she'd left work before he had. He'd tried calling her on his way home to see if she needed him to pick up anything for dinner, but she hadn't answered. He hadn't been completely surprised.
They'd just finished up the case where he'd enlisted the help of the infamous Holly Snow in an effort to catch a serial killer. It had worked, but it hadn't been without its awkward moments. The former madam had been flirtatious and sexy with Gibbs and had even tried - and failed - to get him to agree to a private dinner. He hadn't taken any of it seriously; convincing men she found them attractive enough to bed them was her stock in trade.
Even if he'd been single, he wouldn't have been interested in taking their relationship to an intimate level. She was beautiful and there was something he liked about her, but her career was selling her body. He had no judgments to make about that at this point in his life, but sharing his lover with anyone else simply wasn't in his makeup.
Besides, bottom line was he was not single and had no intention of suddenly being so.
That being said, he wasn't above using whatever chemistry or friendship she thought she was creating between them to achieve his own end: stopping a murderer.
Ziva had been quieter than usual throughout the case and had disappeared whenever possible. He knew something was bothering her and his gut told him it had to do with Holly Snow and her suggestive antics. There hadn't been a chance to pull Ziva aside and fill her in on his plan before he put it into motion, but now he was wishing he'd made the time. He knew the only reason he'd brought in the former madam was to increase his chances of catching a killer before someone else died, but still…this wasn't his first rodeo with Ms. Snow and he probably should have touched base with Ziva first rather than have her find out after it was a done deal.
Some people – his three ex-wives immediately sprang to mind – would have gone all bitchy on him, making their position loud and clear, whatever it was. But not Ziva. Oh, she had a temper and it could flare easily, but that was generally when she was feeling protective of someone or was beyond frustrated by someone's stupidity.
When she was also feeling vulnerable or hurt, though, her first reaction was to retreat behind an almost deadly quiet calm. Honestly, he didn't always know how to reach her there. Even if they had been in the habit of finding an isolated spot at work for a personal discussion, his intuition told him she wouldn't have been ready for that earlier at the Navy Yard. He vaguely wondered if he should have brought her flowers or something – she loved it when he did and he made a mental note to do it more often – but, really, he knew that with Ziva they wouldn't mean as much if offered as a peace offering in this kind of situation.
Well, there was nothing for it but to stop guessing about might be going on with his lover and go inside to see if she was there and ready to talk yet.
Meanwhile, Ziva had indeed headed home after work and had been taking her agitated mood out on the food she was preparing for dinner. Luckily, it was stir fry, so there was a lot of knife work involved. The chicken had already been (somewhat violently) tenderized and cubed, and was currently marinating in the refrigerator. The vegetables that would also be thrown into the mix were next up on her hit list.
Her current disposition could be laid directly at the feet of one Ms. Holly Snow, but part of her felt ridiculous for having this strong – okay, jealous – reaction. She trusted Jethro completely, but she didn't have to work hard to come up with reasons for why he might find someone else more attractive or be drawn to a relationship he didn't have to keep under wraps. And that left her feeling unsettled and a little worried and … in danger of having her heart ripped out of her chest.
She heard Gibbs' car pull up; the front door opened and shut a few minutes later. He had bypassed checking the garage for her car to come straight into the house, hoping to find her. In a new habit they'd developed after Ziva had moved in, he locked the door behind him. He let out a breath of relief when he could hear her in the kitchen and he headed that direction.
"Hey," he greeted her, walking up behind her where she stood at the counter with her back to him.
"Hey," she responded quietly.
His relief knew no bounds when she responded. At least she was speaking to him.
"What did those carrots do to you?" he tried teasing, referring to the way she was chopping the vegetables to within an inch of their lives.
She didn't withdraw, but didn't respond to the teasing. Oookay. Not time for that yet.
"Tried calling," he told her. "You didn't pick up."
She shrugged one shoulder lightly as she kept working on the task at hand. The movement and the hint of expression on her face communicated that she was a little apologetic, but hadn't been in the mood to talk just then.
He placed his hands on her shoulders and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head. The front of her hair was pulled up into a high ponytail that lay flat, while the rest hung like a curtain of dark silk down her back. He couldn't help but smooth his hand down it. She pressed back against him slightly at his touch.
Heartened, he scooped her hair to one side of her neck, baring the other side to him. His head bent to press a soft kiss to the spot where her neck met her shoulder, tasting her skin with just the tip of his tongue. At first, she melted into him even more, her hands going still, then she stiffened.
"I can smell her on you," she stated abruptly.
"What?" His mind had started to drift away from the reason she was stewing and it took him a minute to catch up.
"Holly Snow – I can smell her perfume on you," she elaborated in a terse voice, her knuckles white on the hand that gripped the knife she'd been using to chop the vegetables.
"Ziver," he started, but she kept talking right over him.
"She was full of praise for you after you saved her, you know," Ziva revealed, the lack of emotion in her voice at odds with her body language. "She told McGee that you had needed her in the beginning, but it was she who needed you in the end…and that she had never felt so safe as when you wrapped your arms around her."
Earlier that day, he'd rescued Holly directly from the hands of the serial killer they'd been chasing. She'd been so scared from being held captive by a murderer that Gibbs had pulled her into a tender hug. It would have been impossible to refuse anyone comfort in that situation, but it hadn't meant anything beyond that.
"I pulled her up from the floor after she'd been seconds away from taking a knife to the throat," he pointed out. "Hell, I'd have hugged Vance - "
Suddenly, Ziva stabbed the knife she was holding into the chopping block and whirled around to face him. She grabbed the lapels on his jacket and yanked him down to take his mouth in a fierce, hungry, territory-marking kiss, cutting him off mid-sentence. His hands immediately gripped her hips tightly. He let her take the lead, but was a far from passive participant.
Gradually the kiss changed, slowed, became languid and clinging. It was no less intense, but was now also about love and attraction and understanding…forgiveness requested…assurance that none was needed.
Ziva's arms ended up twined about his neck, the fingers of one hand spearing into his hair, while his hands molded her to him by rubbing up and down her back.
At long last, Ziva pulled back a little, then captured his lower lip between hers, sucking gently. She pulled back once more, only to reach back up and brush her mouth back and forth over his, light as a butterfly's wing. She then nuzzled her nose against his skin until she rested her face in his throat, nestling into him.
"It is not that I do not trust you," she began softly, "it is just…"
Her voice trailed off as her mind struggled to find the words she felt she owed him. All she could settle on was a deep sigh.
He rested his cheek against the top of her head. He understood…all too well. In fact, the last time Holly Snow had been around, he'd had some jealously of his own to deal with. Not about the madam - about the fact that Ziva and Tony had been stuck in the same hotel room in Paris with one bed. But their complete faith in each other had seen them through that and would get them past this, too.
"Holly was being…Holly. You got all churned up…" he guessed. She nodded, closing her eyes in gratitude that he could fill in the words for her and gripping him even more tightly.
"…which made you just as mad at yourself as you were at her – and me…" Ziva breathed out a light, choked laugh as the last of her tension melted away.
"…and you were having one of those moments where it's hard to be hiding," he finished.
She nodded, unexpected moisture gathering behind her closed eyelids.
"Know the feeling," he admitted. "All of it."
He pulled back far enough to tilt her face up so he could see her. Blinking away her tears, she opened her eyes to look into his.
"Nothing happened," he reassured her. "Nothing's gonna happen."
"I know," she told him and she meant it. But thank you for saying it. Her second thought remained unspoken, but his understanding look said he heard her loud and clear.
"Never second-guess the fact that the only person I ever need is you," he continued quietly, but purposefully. He wasn't always good about giving voice to his feelings, but she deserved that from him – and, for her, he tried.
Her left hand slid up to cradle the back of his head and she once again pulled his mouth down to meet hers in a kiss that began with gentle caressing, followed by soft pressure from both of them. As he slid his tongue between her lips, they parted warm and willing for his advance.
Without warning, searing desire and the elemental need to claim him swept through Ziva again. This time it was like wildfire, burning away every other thought in her head except for getting this man naked and inside her now.
Her body and her mouth instantly communicated her need, her powerful want. He couldn't help but be engulfed by the flames with her.
She pushed the offending jacket from his shoulders, allowing it to fall carelessly to the floor. She hurriedly tugged his light green polo and his white t-shirt from his pants, so her hands could touch more of him. Frustrated by the way her efforts were hampered by his clothing, she had both shirts over his head in a flash, her hands and mouth instantly exploring his incredibly sexy chest, delighted sounds coming from her throat. He couldn't stop his low moan of approval as her teeth scraped across one of his nipples before she flicked her tongue across the hard nub on the other.
"Ziva," he breathed, need readily apparent in his tone.
She pushed gently but insistently at him until he started moving backwards.
"I want you in our bed," she murmured in a voice thick with emotion. "Now."
"Not sure I'll make it that far," he admitted with a short, self-deprecating laugh.
"Yes, you will," she commanded in a husky tone that brooked no argument as she kept moving him toward the stairs. "I want you smelling me on your pillow, on our sheets while you are on top of me, inside me."
Some part of his brain was amazed he didn't come just at hearing her words, she was that sexy. Not wanting to be left in the dust, he pulled her hair loose from its partial tail and wasted no time burying his hands in the thick, heavy weight of it. Cradling her head in his hands, he raised her mouth to his once more, only breaking away to pull her soft emerald green sweater over her head. It fell to the floor to join the trail they were leaving from the kitchen. He then quickly released her from her black satin bra. Before it even hit the floor, his hands were cupping her soft curves, brushing his thumbs across her nipples. This time it was her turn to moan at the thrill of his hands on her sensitive flesh...those hands that could be so tough, so rough, yet so unbelievably gentle.
By this time, they had reached the bottom of the stairs. Ziva had his belt and fly undone and was caressing his hardness through his underwear. With his breath trapped in his throat, he squeezed her breasts more tightly.
As he paused to toe off his shoes, she took the opportunity to push down his pants, hooking her thumbs in his socks on her way down to the floor and removing those, too. She ran her mouth and hands over his attractive, muscular legs, wanting to touch him everywhere.
With a hot, deliberate look, she trapped his gaze with hers and oh-so-slowly pulled his underwear down and off, torturing them both with her sudden lack of speed. She tossed his briefs aside to join the rest of their discarded clothing. Straightening up on her knees, her mouth on level with his groin, she stroked his swollen shaft once more without the bothersome underwear coming between her skin and his.
"You want me," she murmured in a throaty, satisfied tone.
"Constantly," he gasped, nearly undone by the feel of her hand on him. However, she wasn't close to being done with him.
She tasted the underside of his cock with a velvet lick that ended with swirling around the tip, capturing the bead of cum already pearling there. He groaned and thrust one hand back into her hair and grasped the newel post with the other, struggling to maintain his balance.
Passion and the need to drive him wild glittered in her eyes. One of her hands came up to fondle his balls while the other stroked his shaft again before pulling it toward her open lips. Her tongue flicked across the tip again, teasing him. His voice stolen, he could only thrust his hips toward her, silently begging for more. She was happy to oblige.
She took him deeply into her mouth, licking and sucking. Her eyes looked up again to lock with his. He'd been unable to look away from the sight of her mouth engulfing him. The intensity ramped up as their gazes connected and it was all he could do to hold back his release, he was so turned on.
For endless, delicious seconds, he reveled in this, the sweetest of tortures, until he just couldn't take any more for fear that it would be all over before he could be buried inside of her.
With Herculean effort, he tugged her head back gently and husked, "C'mere."
As soon as she had somewhat reluctantly released him, he reached down for her. In one fluid movement, he pulled her to her feet and swept her into his arms, cradling her close. His grip conveyed both his powerful desire and his loving protectiveness. He started up the steps, going on memory as she looped her arms around his neck and urged his mouth to hers once more. Her fingers slid into that silver hair of his that she loved to touch.
As they went, she kicked off first one shoe then the other, adding to their trail of clothing that detailed their route from the kitchen to – ultimately – their bedroom. All the while her mouth devoured him. She couldn't get close enough, couldn't assuage this powerful ache she had for him. Only the need to breathe finally drove her to pull back and rest her head against his shoulder. She rubbed her lips against his throat, hungry for continued contact with as much of his skin as possible.
"Remember the first time I carried you up these stairs?" he asked in a soft voice, bending his head to nuzzle against hers. His words brought the warmth and affection between them to the forefront once more, though the passion still sizzled hotly.
"I will never forget it," she responded in a low, husky tone. With an expressive smile curving her lips, she brought one hand up to caress the side of his face.
He pressed a tender kiss to her temple as he relived those moments from that stormy night when she'd appeared in his basement and revealed that she wanted him like she wanted no one else.
"Just so you know, this time's not going to end the same way," he smirked, looking down at her with a hot gaze, referring to the fact that they hadn't made love that first night.
She grinned up at him.
"I certainly hope not," she declared with a look that managed to be both saucy and heated as he entered their bedroom.
He kicked the door shut behind them with one foot. Mouths fused, he slid her slowly down his body and stood her by their bed. They worked together to get the last of her clothing off, lips locked in a tongues-tangling kiss the whole time. Finally, she was as naked as he was.
Taking a half-turn from him, Ziva threw back the covers. Guiding him between her and the bed, she pressed him down on the mattress, crawling on top of him. Capturing his lips, her hands and body rubbed sensuously against his. While the contact pleasured them both, she was also gripped by a fundamental need to imprint herself on him, mark him as hers.
Her teeth nipped at his earlobe. Sliding her lips down, she paused just above where his neck met his shoulder and sucked on his skin hard enough to leave a bruise. Hers.
Planting her hands on the mattress on either side of his head, she raised her head. Her face stayed close to his, her fiery eyes roaming over those handsome features of his that were beyond precious to her.
"You are mine," she said forcefully. "Say it."
"I. Am. Yours," he obliged immediately, punctuating each word with a kiss.
Her body began softening, molding itself to his even more. She brushed the lightest of kisses across his mouth.
"Say it again," she husked.
His hands came up from her hips to cradle her face, thumbs oh-so-gently smoothing over her soft, lovely cheeks.
"Yours," he repeated, "for as long as you want me."
She stilled. Her fingers flexed into the mattress. Her eyes became unreadable.
"What if I want you forever?" she whispered. Inside, her emotions were churning for a different reason now, her stomach poised to drop at his possible response, but her careful tone gave none of that away.
"Just like to see you try to get away before that," he informed her, all the love he felt for her on display in his gorgeous blue eyes.
Her lips slowly curved in a breath-taking smile, relief forcing a joyful noise from her throat. At long last, her body melted completely onto his, the last potential hurdle cleared.
She kissed him, warm and sweet quickly morphing into hot and needy. Her hands, her lips, her entire being from head to toe couldn't get enough of him and the desire between them flared out of control once more.
He gave as good as he received, hands and lips roaming her toned, lithe body, pressing her even more tightly against him. He found all of the spots that made her gasp, made her groan, made her need, even as she did the same for him.
"I am going crazy," she muttered thickly, her mouth pressing hard kisses to his delectable chest as they rolled around in the sheets. "You had better be going crazy, too."
He rolled her over once more, trapping her legs with his. "Definitely crazy for you," he breathed, looking into her whiskey-brown eyes that had gone practically black with passion.
Gibbs had one arm curved under her, while the other hand caressed her breast, tweaking her responsive nipple hard enough for her mouth to open in a gasp. His mouth latched onto her other breast, his tongue swirling around then sucking hard. She moaned.
"I want you on top of me," she told him almost desperately, pulling him more fully over her. "Need you inside of me." Her hips shifted to cradle him, her legs wrapping over his.
"Gettin' there," he assured her, intending to prolong the delicious foreplay just a little longer, even if it killed him.
"Jethro…" she begged in a needy tone, her hips thrusting against his. When she couldn't take it anymore, her teeth bit down on the exact spot where she'd left her mark a little earlier, her hips lifting insistently simultaneously.
"'Course, now's good, too," Gibbs caved in with a grin, catching her brown-eyed gaze, his body so hard for her it was a wonder it hadn't burst. Her responding chuckle was breathless and thrilled and tinged with more than a hint of thank God.
His lips crushed hers, succumbing when she took control of the kiss, communicating in every way that she could that she wanted him, needed him, couldn't get close enough to him. Her eyelids drifted closed, all the better to revel in the sensations cascading through her.
He lined himself up at her most secret entrance, which was drenched with proof of her desire for him. With just the tip of him inside her, he paused.
"Look at me, Ziver," he husked, commanding her to open her eyes. Her gaze was dazed with passion and stark need, but she clung to his piercing blue one.
"Yours," he promised. "Only yours. Always." And with that, he thrust home in one strong, powerful movement.
Ziva came immediately, her release fueled as much by his words as the feeling of him entering her. Her arms pressed against his back, while her legs wrapped high on his hips, opening herself to him as fully as she could. He continued to stroke in and out of her moist heat through that first orgasm, intent on leading her to a second.
She met him thrust for thrust, pressure for pressure, kiss for kiss. She wanted him deep and hard and fast, and her body pulled his into that rhythm that she craved. Almost too soon yet spiraling for what seemed like forever, she came again, shouting his name. Her back arched off the bed, her head fell back, the tendons in her throat went taunt.
He had a moment to soak in the look of rapture on her face and the indescribable feeling of her inner muscles squeezing him as tightly as her arms and legs ever could before his own release claimed him. His body went rigid as he filled her womb with his seed then collapsed on top of her, panting her name and fighting for air as his head came to rest on the pillow beside hers.
She lay under him, weak and wildly happy, her lips curved because his heart was pounding just as hard as hers was. One of her arms came up to wrap around his neck, her hand urging his head even more closely to her. Turning her face into him, she pressed a kiss to his forehead.
They lay like that for an eternity, slowly recovering, completely connected on every level.
Eventually he raised his head and smiled tenderly down at her, his hands moving to cradle her head. Unhurriedly, she opened her eyes to smile serenely back up at him.
He dropped gentle, sensual kisses to her mouth, her cheeks, her throat. Her hands slid over him, one hand coming to curl around the back of his neck while the other swept slowly and lovingly up and down his spine.
When he next lifted his face, her gaze was caught by the mark she'd left on his neck. Between the hickey and the biting, he had quite the bruise. With a light fingertip, Ziva attempted to soothe it.
"I suppose I should apologize for this," she reflected, "but I am not sorry."
Identical grins spread across their faces.
"I am not sure how you will explain it away, though, if someone sees it," she admitted. "Somehow I do not think you can get away with the excuse my friends and I used as teenagers."
He just looked at her with one eyebrow cocked.
"Curling iron burn," she informed him impishly.
"You'd be surprised at what I can get away with," he smirked. She chuckled lightly.
Her eyes traveled over his face as if committing him to memory. Their conversation in the kitchen came back to her and her countenance grew more serious.
"I want her to know that we are together," she admitted softly into the quiet, sure he would know exactly to whom she was referring. Just because it was impossible, didn't mean she didn't wish it wasn't.
"So tell her," he directed.
Her eyes flew to his in shock.
"What did you say?" She shook her head as if to clear her ears, certain she must have misunderstood him. Her voice was faint, but his was firm and clear.
"Tell 'er," he repeated.
"But we have not told anyone," she pointed out shakily.
"Hart and Werth know," he reminded her, "and the world hasn't caved in.
"We both know we're getting to that point where we'll tell everyone and let the chips fall where they may," he pointed out correctly. "But in the meantime, tell her."
She searched his gaze but found nothing but truth and certainty there. A breathtaking smile gradually spread across her lips and she pulled him down for a warm, soft kiss.
Letting him up to catch his breath, she told him in a voice rich with emotion, "I do not have the words to describe just how much I love you."
"Love you, too," he returned. Holding her close, he rolled over onto his back. They held each other wordlessly for a while, hands roaming softly, gently.
"She wanted me to have dinner with her," Gibbs quietly revealed as they lay together, not wanting to hide something that she might find out.
The hand that had been running lightly through the hair on his chest stilled, but she didn't say anything.
He tipped her chin up to his. "Said that's what it would cost me to get her help with the case," he revealed. "No expectations; just friends."
"You are friends?" she wondered, her voice carefully neutral, though surprise and skepticism chased each other across her lovely features.
"Exactly what I said," he smirked with that characteristic half-smile of his, giving her an extra squeeze.
"When are you going?" Ziva asked in a barely-there voice, averting her eyes.
Cradling her jaw, he pulled her gaze back to his. "I'm not," he told her.
Her eyes were confused, but relief was readily apparent. "Why? And why did she still assist us?"
"Turned her down because I didn't want anyone," he emphasized the last word, "getting the wrong idea." He caressed her lower lip with his thumb. "Maybe she would have helped anyway for the right reasons, but truth is she managed to cook up a deal with the prosecutor's office to get her out of that tether earlier."
Ziva let out the breath she hadn't fully realized she was holding.
"I would have handled it if you had no choice," Ziva told him, aiming for confidence and almost succeeding, "but I will admit I am glad it is not necessary." She pulled him down for a kiss that reflected their rock-solid connection. Afterwards, they held each other so close a whisper couldn't have gotten through, content to just be together.
After a while, a different kind of hunger drove them from their bed. After pulling on soft, casual clothes, she took his hand and led him down to the kitchen to finish preparing dinner. Their comfortable silence was broken by her accented voice.
"By the way, you do realize that jacket is going to the cleaners before you wear it again, yes?"