Title: Come Over
Genre: NCIS
Pairing: Tony and Ziva
Rating: M, Subtle (The way I like it.) Do not read if not old enough.
Timeline: There isn't one yet for this, but maybe someday….
Spoilers: None, nada, zip, ziltz, zero, niks, nul. You get the picture… oops wait, I think there might be one.
A/N: So I wanted the muse to write something without dialogue, because she's become dialogue dependant… It didn't work… so why fix something that isn't broke? I only end up fighting with her…
Warning: It's subtle but moving. Not my usual writing style. So to the lovers of fluffy fics… this one's for you.
Disclaimer: Whistles/hums the theme tune… oops I don't own that either.
Written: March 2011
Word Count: 1 632
Edited: June 2011
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All evening he's thought about it, pictured it in his mind, spent hours dwelling on it whilst sitting alone on his sofa. He tries to engross himself in yet another movie, hoping to pass the time. This is what he does when he's not with her… Then he starts to wonder… as to what she might be doing. Was she already in bed? The place where she's made so many of his fantasies come to life already. Was she lying there thinking of him, needing him, like he does her? He wants to call her, but she needs this time away from him, especially at times like these. Yet deep in his soul he's hoping she'll call... She does, eventually.
"Come over." The words are softly spoken, a simple request. His response to them immediate, relief floods his system as his soul soars. She needs him, like he does her.
"Are you sure?" He questions, needing to be sure. He knows himself, knows that at times he can be too much for her mood. "You looked tired when we left the office..." he reasons.
"Come over." She persists.
"I'm on my way, Ziva." He returns softly, and with that any trace of fatigue evaporates from his body. There's a lightness in his stride and a flurry in his chest as his heart beats faster. She needs him to go to her. He reaches for his bag, it's always packed and ready these days. He wishes that they could spend every night together, but he knows she also needs time away from him. A respite one could say.
Their days are spent solving any one of the numerous horrors, which the perverted, twisted, greed enslaved or jealous minds of those committing the crimes could conjure up. All in the line of duty, which cannot be helped. Some days they'll bicker and pick at each other, shooting down opposing presumptions with deadly accuracy. And sometimes when they're right in the thick of it, they'll both stop and stare at each other, forgetting who started what, and whose notion was the oddest, or how many times during the case she has rolled her eyes or he's quoted some movie. They'll simply stop, and stare at one another, remembering what's most important to them about the other. They'll remember why after all this time they still manage to do what they do... She'll smile and shake her head slightly, and he'll melt in response, before returning the gesture, knowing that things will even out again - they always do.
He's a demanding person and with her, a needy lover. He tends to forget that it's these quirks of his that make him all the more precious to her. She'd told him once that they were her fondest memories during the darkest period of her life. Before telling him what she wished they'd included, and after his ears stopped burning with an embarrassed heat, he returned her words with deeds, traced them upon her body with trembling hands. Hands whose tactile worship of her caramel coloured skin shook her to her soul as he made sure to create those memories she had then longed for. After that, he never again worried that she couldn't handle his desire, his need for her, for it was plain that she could, that she wanted to. That she needed him as much as he needed her. He stopped thinking about the what if's, and the cannot's and the shouldnt's, and just lost himself in her.
She seemed especially small when she opened the door for him, dressed in a silk robe. She only ever allowed for him to see this side of her when they were away from the office. It's been a rough day and the worry-furrow between her eyes, which had settled there earlier, didn't want to leave her. Therefore, he tries to be good, he tries to give her what he thinks she needs.
She never lets him know it… That she needs more than this from him. For if she did, she'd be surprised to find that so does he... She simply takes his hand and pulls him with her into the room, where within his fertile mind he's been waiting to join her. As soon as his feet pass over the door's threshold he's in that other world, where there's only her.
Dropping his bag in the one corner, he excuses himself to the bathroom, allowing her some space. The bathroom smells of her soap and her shampoo, it smells of her very essence. Staring at his reflection in her mirror, after having shrugged his outer clothes, he knows that the man gazing back at him is one lucky bastard. That his whole world was wrapped up in a small dainty package, that smells of spicy flowers and whose satiny caramel skin had laid claim to all of his dreams, years ago.
Her step was so quiet, he never even heard her come into the bathroom, but she'd always been able to do that. Her exotically exquisite face peeked over his shoulder and he looked past his reflection, meeting her somnolent brown eyes. She completely naked, and all of her tender softness rubs against his sensitive back as she wraps her arms around his waist, her lips tracing along the curve of his shoulder. She speaks a few choice words into his warm skin, "come to bed." To which a weakness overwhelms his knees, and a warming sensation settles over his heart as he leans back against her slightly, releasing a contented moan. Knowing that his life couldn't get any better than it was that moment, before clasping her hand and following her to bed.
She places one small hand in the centre of his chest and guides him until his back rests against her cool sheets. She makes quick and precise movements, ridding him of his shorts. He regards her in a trancelike state… one which she places him under without effort. The worry filled furrow between her eyes becomes a frown of concentration. They'd had a rough day. She'd spent the better part of it controlled by the circumstances that came with the obligations of their profession. She now needed to take control, and he was happy to relinquish it to her. She leans into and over him, her lips taking his in the softest and sweetest of kisses, keeping his mouth too busy to do more than utter breathless groans.
She curves her body against his hot skin. Wriggling slightly in an agonizingly slow tease, but only until she has her hips positioned in exactly the right place. She wants to take him deep inside her, where he's sure her aching need for him was the greatest. She requires very little by means of preparation. She'd seemed bone-weary, but amazingly, it was at times like these that her body was at its most voracious and needful. Her playful tugging on his lower lip was followed by a gasp of pure sensation as they merged. Fitting together in the best way possible, with just enough friction to make them both cry out softly as he filled her completely. Her body arching back breaking their kiss as the sensations coursed through her, before swaying forward again. Her eyes were glazed over with passion as they locked with his, as if she was drugged by their actions. She rocked upon him, deep, sure and strong. She pushes her body onto his, their connection so much more than skin-to-skin or body-to-body. It was soul deep in intensity, this was them… the way they were meant to be. Her breath came in rasping hitches as her body gained both urgency and speed. She moved faster, whilst bracing against his chest. He loves the way she tightens all around him, that's when he knows she's very close. He knows that she needs to do this herself, to take from him what she needs. So he fights the desire to push up against her, to grab her hips and to help push her over. His fingers trace her thighs as she moves over him.
With one final slam onto him and she throws back her head and sends forth a shuddering cry, the raw sound of it bouncing off the walls. He's not far behind her, his body reacting instinctively as his fingers grip her hips and his body bucks up against her, seeking release, which is not long denied. He calls to her whilst loosing himself once again within her depths. Her body slumps forward, coming to rest on top of his, and somewhere within his exhausted, blissfully sated body he summons up the strength to wrap his arms around her and cradles her close. Their bodies still intimately joined. He needs the slight, comforting weight of her upon him, to reassure him that he didn't dream it. That she'd once again loved him that thoroughly, that she would turn to him and take what she needed, when she needed it. He could never deny her anything – death would be easier to face. He just needs to feel everything, and he does.
She smiles against his chest, understanding his wordless request as she settles against him. His arms grow heavy and his eyes close as she indulges him his only request on nights like these – to fall asleep whilst still inside her. She cannot deny him that, knowing that it was on those nights that he slept best. That such a simple act provided him such content.
He slips from her body the same time his arms drop from her, and she knows he's at his most content. This is what gives her the strength to reach for him, because she knows he needs is a much as she does.
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