Title: Playing With Fire
Rating: T
Pairing: Tony and Ziva (Uh ... forever.)
Warning: Spoily Spoilers
Summary: Ziva isn't going to let him go without a fight. Now he just needs to understand that.
AN: This was written to make some people feel better. So this is a great big feel better to everyone who needs a pick me up. :]
Disclaimer: D-I-S-C-L-A-I-M-E-D!
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The quiet that floods the bullpen is far too still to be considered comforting. His skin bristles at the intensity he can feel from just across the walkway, but he still doesn't look up. He can't bring himself to face her, because he doesn't think he can stand to see the emotion that is mostly likely in her eyes. He knows what it is, he has been in the same position before, and he technically still is. He's just found a new way to cope with it. It's kind of an eye for an eye.
He packs up his things without looking up. He refuses to feel bad about this. He isn't going to be ashamed of something that Ziva has played a part in as well. Still, he can't stop the way his heart pounds achingly against his ribs at the thought of how she might be feeling, because if it is anything like the way he had felt then he knows how miserable she must be. Originally he had wanted to rub it in her face, but then he saw the way her eyes dimmed the tiniest of bits and he felt guilty. He knows he shouldn't feel this way. After all, she does have Ray. It irks him just a bit to know that if he hadn't been the one to pump her for information then he would know nothing of her aforementioned boyfriend. The title leaves a sour taste on his tongue. She's always been secretive, especially with him.
He gives a slow salute to the remaining occupants of the room, tossing a quick "later" over his shoulder as he makes his way to the elevator. He has gotten through the week relatively unscathed. The ball in his throat has nothing to do with the fact that he has a date with a certain female team leader, and everything to do with the Israeli ninja who has been tossing him glares for the better half of the night. He is grateful to be leaving, if only to grant him the slightest of reprieves.
He steps into the elevator slowly, his shoulders tightening with untold anticipation. For some reason he is nervous, and as he leans forward to press the button for the garage his nerves do not settle. He rolls his shoulders backwards a few times all the while stretching his neck, but it does nothing to help. He is still tense, and he heaves a sigh at the fluttering of his belly.
"You like her, yes?" Her words are warm against the nape of his neck, and he tries to hold himself together as he nearly jumps out of his skin. He hadn't even seen her move from her desk, let alone slip into the elevator behind him. Her entire presence causes delicious shivers to run down his spine, and it arouses a certain part of his brain that he has been trying to shut off. It is safe to say that he has failed in that aspect.
"How do you do that?" he questions. It seems like the air crackles around him as she leans forward to flick the emergency switch, but he ignores it. He forces himself to stand still and not look at her, because he feels that doing so might change the way things stand between them. He has been working so hard to keep things the same that he can't let his efforts go to waste.
Her fingers glide down his back slowly, and his tense shoulders relax the slightest bit. Her gentle touch taps out a rhythm against his back and he fights against the hum that builds in his throat. When he cranes his neck to look at her, he sees nothing. He knows that she is ghosting behind him, and he really wants to know what expression she currently has on her face. It intrigues him and frustrates him all at once to know that she holds such control over him.
"You want her, do you not?" she reiterates. He feels her hand snake beneath his shirt, her nails lightly raking against his taut flesh. It surprises him enough that he stands up straighter, and he doesn't know when exactly she decided these boundaries were safe to cross. He finds himself shuddering involuntarily at her actions. She has always been able to bring out the strongest of reactions in him, even when he tried his hardest to fight against it.
He knows that she is waiting for him to admit to his new relationship in a way he hasn't been able to do before. Sure, he has made slight remarks here, and a few unnecessary glances there; but he hasn't outright owned up to it. He thinks it's because he wanted to get under her skin similar to the way she often does his. He thinks he succeeded, if the tightening of her hand against his back is any indication.
"Has she captured your interest, Tony?" He feels bad for every person that has ever had to undergo some sort of interrogation from her, because he knows that this must be what it feels like. He already wants to cave, but he tells himself to stand strong.
Her rapid fire questions begin to slow, and she circles her arms around him in order to caress his abs with taunting strokes. Her nails run across the surface smoothly, followed by teasing trails left by the pad of her fingertips.
"Tell me, Tony. When she touches you, do you react like this?" Her words are nothing more than a purr that echo inside of his head. He has to bite his lip to keep from honestly answering her. He does this so that he won't give her the upper hand. He doesn't want her to know how much she affects him, because he doesn't think that he affects her in the same way.
She sees his silence for what it is meant to be, and he can practically feel the smirk that flits across her face because apprehension is palpable in the creases of his forehead. She stalks him, circling him like prey as she comes to a halt in front of him. She is at least a foot away, but he feels as though she is standing right up against him.
He is not sure when she took it upon herself to unbutton the top three buttons of her shirt, but with his height advantage it is giving him a clear view of her deep blue lace bra, as well as the creamy tops of her olive breasts. He involuntarily licks his lips at the sight, his stomach tightening with desire. His fists clench as he fights himself for the control that is wavering. She cannot win, he has to stay strong.
"Mmm," she hums, "I see." The words catch on her teeth and prickle the air with a sweet promise. He wants to groan aloud, but he forces himself not to. He can't speak a word in this moment, because his sole purpose is to not give in. He will never give in. She clicks her tongue as realization sets in, and he fears what lengths she will go to in order to receive the answers she desires. "You want to play strong ball then, yes?" she questions.
He is ashamed to admit that that is all that it takes for his control to nearly slip out of his grasp. Her error causes him to cave, and with barely restrained air he finds himself speaking. "Hard," he corrects. The words are automatic, because he has spent many years fixing her slips of the tongue. This time feels different though, the monosyllable is all that he can force out through his parched lips without completely giving up this charade.
"Oh, I know." She sounds delighted, and her words are as sly as her eyes as they slowly rove over his body. He gets a delicious sort of thrill from the act, and he feels himself falling deeper. "Hard indeed." The way her tongue slides over her lips draws his attention, and he can't seem to pull his gaze away from the plump, wet appendages.
He wants to stomp his foot, to turn on his head away from her, to flick the switch and leave her here, but he can't bring himself to move a single inch. He feels that with one wrong move he will lose. He has played this game long enough to know the way it works and he knows that she knows all of this as well. He finds it rather embarrassing that aside from her previous caresses she hasn't touched him, and yet here he is already coming apart at the seams.
She pulls her lip in between white teeth slowly, and his eyes narrow even further as she takes a moment to suck on it delicately. He always did have a strange fixation with her mouth, but he had thought that that was something that he had kept hidden. That doesn't seem to be the case as she deliberately flicks her tongue out to wet her lips once more just before she smirks at him. There is a sparkle in her eyes that tells him so much, yet he is too busy fighting against himself to really hear what it is they are saying. He wants her; he just can't allow himself to have her.
"Does she know you as well as I do?" She's playing coy now, and it is something that she does all too well. She stares up at him with her big brown eyes that house so much power. He can't take it, and it is with that thought that his self imposed silence once again snaps.
"Ziva…" he whimpers. His voice cracks embarrassingly high and he shoves his hands into his pockets in order to keep himself from doing something.
She shrugs her shoulders, drawing his attention back to her barely concealed cleavage as her move causes her shirt to ruffle open that much more. She has always been enticing, and he doesn't know why he thought that he could stand against her. "I like to think that I know you fairly well, Tony."
She sounds so causal, like they are simply talking about the weather; like she is not standing there attempting, and succeeding, to seduce him. It is something that has always frustrated him about her; her ability to place herself away from the things that matter the most.
"You are playing with fire, Ziva." He grits out in a chalky restrained sort of voice. His nerves are more frazzled than they have ever been in his life. She is solely to blame.
She nods slowly, her hair falling down to shield half of her face as she looks away from him. She gives a simply shrug of her shoulder before turning back to face him. The grin on her face very much like the cat that caught the canary. "Am I?" she teases. She runs her fingers along her collarbone in tantalizingly subdued movements, and his eyes greedily follow the movements. "I do enjoy a little bit of heat."
It seems that she is saying all the right things, and pushing all of the right buttons, because suddenly everything he has been trying to block out comes rushing back to him like a gust of wind. It hits him square in the face and knocks everything into perspective.
He doesn't remember grabbing her, or pulling her into his waiting embrace. And he definitely doesn't recall bending down to capture her lips, or molding his fingers against her body. What he does remember is the taste and the feel of her pressed up tightly against him. This is all that he can think about, because she is invading his senses.
She moves against him with such precision that he feels like they were contoured for one another. If this is what a simple kiss is like with her, than he imagines that sex would do far more than simply rock his world.
Just as his hand comes up to unbutton her blouse even more she steps away. Her lips are swollen and bruised, and his mouth waters for another taste. Her eyes are shining in the dim light provided, and his body aches for her. He needs her, and he hates the fact that when he makes a move to grab her she takes a step back, and stops his advances with a firm hand against his chest.
"I want you to remember this feeling, Tony." Her words are gentle and easy, and it is such a stark contrast to the silky tone that she had been toying with earlier that he can't even imagine that they came from the same person. "One day I plan to collect." She's giving him a promise; he can see it in her eyes and hear it in her voice. He is not sure how to take it, so he merely nods out his response. "You understand then, yes?"
He nods, even though he isn't sure what there is to understand. She seems to be satisfied with his response because she leans forward to flip the emergency switch once more.
The doors ding as they slide open, and Ziva steps out before he even thinks about moving. He is rooted to the spot, and when she notices his hesitation she turns back around to look at him. There is a smile in her eyes that sets his blood on fire. "Remember how much I can make you feel, Tony."
Her words sound like a threat, but he finds himself looking forward to them all the same.
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2,286; unbetaed.
See, now, don't we all feel a bit better? Ziva's not going to give up that easily, she just needs time.
Review :]