A/N - I got this idea from listening to the song Assassin by John Mayer,it may help if you listen to it, but only for this to appear less strange, my friend has rated this story as weirder than an alien impregnating you with ectoplasm, so be warned.
Rated M for a reason, even though I did not intend for that to happen. Speaking of which, I have read, spoken about and now written, but never actually partaken in this act, so if it's wrong my apologies.
Disclaimer: Once again, as sad as this may be, I do not own NCIS or these characters.
The thing Tony and Ziva had in common, was obscurely hidden, crouched beneath the bickering, the job, the facade. They were assassins. Despite the almost obvious assassin front that Ziva wore most every day, and wore with pride before... that... place, crawling inside, the real assassin used this shield, and that was its best offense. The same assassin crept with Special Agent Tony DiNozzo, but its facade was sheer innocence of its being from its host. It's a hunter if you ever saw one. It draws in its prey, so innocently, and in the midst of the night it attacks, leaving behind a battered shell. Though before, it had never taken on one of its own. When one finds its prey, lures it in, blissfully unaware of the other assassin doing just that, the outcome is a mix of plausibly combustible chemicals, if you don't know what you're doing, everything you'd ever worked for could go up in flames.
Cocktails after a case was NCIS tradition, so when finally Team Gibbs had caught themselves a marine murderer, Abby was already setting a time and place. Gibbs, eager to go back to his boat and bourbon, declined, even a puppy dog face from Abby couldn't get him to budge. With the chances of an interrupted hunt now gone, the assassins radar was on alert, so when Tony offers to pick Ziva up, she gratefully accepts, and step one of the hunt is in play.
Driving home on her own, Ziva finds herself thinking of what to wear, and she has no idea. What she wore did not usually bother her, she liked to look nice, of course, but it would never plague her mind until she was stood in front of her wardrobe. She couldn't help but wonder why? Why was she so bothered? There was a niggling thought in the back of her brain that told her why, and try as she might to ignore it, it was seeming more and more likely. Tony. That one word made everything make sense. She didn't want him looking at the leggy blondes who were bound to enter the bar, she wanted his eyes on her. She shouldn't let it bother her, because she knew that his attention would be elsewhere, yet still she was going to try her damndest to change that. Now clean, and trying to pretend she was not dressing for Tony, she stood in front of her wardrobe, hair fixed as she liked it, with a slight amount of make-up, and matching underwear, well it could only just be classed as underwear, it was bordering on lingerie. Already frustrated at herself, her mind was drawn to a dress she had not worn in a very long time, but still uncomfortable with the fact she was trying to impress Tony, of all people, she defiantly pulled out some tight black jeans. Although when she thought about it, really they were not different to the dress, perhaps only slightly more subtle, the intent was still there. Angry with herself still, she pulled out the first top her hand met, only when she looked at it, with dismay she could not help but put it back and grab something that revealed more cleavage, and gave her more shape. In her final act of despair, she slipped a pair of heels onto her feet. She took a pacing glance in the mirror, not wanting to linger too long to doubt herself, and sat in the lounge awaiting Tony's arrival.
10 minutes further into Washington, Tony DiNozzo was doing his hair; for the fourth time. Every time he did it, a thought at the back of his mind said, does Ziva like it like that? So then he'd have to do it again, trying to get it right. He acted as if it was just because he still wanted the 20 something girls to look at him, but really, he wanted Ziva to find him attractive. On his fifth attempt, it mildly resembled hair that Ziva had once seemed to take interest in, so now frustrated, it stayed as it was. Realising he was soon going to be late, his mind raced over what shirt to put on, to him, jeans were jeans, but a shirt, it defined an outfit. What colours did she like? Had she ever commented on his clothing? Ever looked at him a different way? Green, she liked green. Pulling out a green shirt, he debated on whether ironing or timing was more important. He decided timing. Quickly he buttoned up, and grabbed his keys, determined to be at Ziva's by 7, even if it mean driving like Ziva.
As he pulled up outside, almost exactly at 7, two assassins nervously awaited their prey, in order for part 2 of their hunt to begin, they had to have allured their prey, this was the moment, that could make or break a kill, so with baited breath, they watched the scene unfold.
With two confident knocks, he had played the confidence that he did not have, for the first time in a while, Tony DiNozzo was nervous. Behind the door, Ziva took a breath, it's only cocktails, she told herself, Abby and McGee will be there. She opened the door, and for a moment, neither spoke, neither moved, except for their eyes, neither were quite prepared. His ass seemed to fit far too well into his jeans, his shirt accented his eyes, and clung to his masculine shoulders. Damn, he looked good. Their eyes connected, and her thoughts were mirrored. Those jeans made her ass look way too good, her shirt showed more cleavage than he was normally allowed to be privy to, and the heels made her already amazing legs look good enough to knock a man to his knees. This was going to be an interesting night. After a silent conversation, finally he forced a verbal greeting. Just like at work, their 'moment' was brushed aside, as if it never happened, although it was still very close to the forefront of their minds, there had been something more than just an appreciative glance in that look.
They travelled in silence, each giving sideways glances, subtle enough for the other to miss, but enough to get a good view of their desired target. It was clear the hunt was set, that from now on, every decision, every word spoken, every look shared would lead them to, or from their prey.
Abby excitedly awaited them outside the bar, McGee desperately trying to calm her down, but she was clearly having none of it, probably a mix of a few too many Caf-Pow's, and Abby's usual after case buzz.
"Tony, Ziva, you're late!" She shouted across the car park.
"Actually we are right on time." Ziva pointed out as they reached their companions.
"Whatever, come on, I love this bar."
Abby pulled McGee in, Tony and Ziva following behind, Tony following far enough behind so he could get a good view of Ziva's behind. Her hips swayed in a way that made him almost sure she was completely aware of where his eyes were trained. The bar, for Abby's choice, was surprisingly quiet, Abby usually opted for loud, busy places that blasted Brain Matter-like music. There was no stampede for a table, where you sat in the order you arrived, because otherwise someone else would take your table while you were letting other people slide into the booth. Now with open choice as to where to sit, Tony was surprised when Ziva slid in next to him, as was Ziva, normally Ziva would sit by Abby, leaving Tony next to McGee, when they had a choice for seats, that was. Now though, Ziva was sat by him, right by him. He often wondered if it was just Ziva who seemed to have a reformed concept of personal space, or whether it was Israeli's in general. Though he wasn't going to ponder this, for he did not mind her closeness, in fact, he basked in it, it was possible then, for him to think she enjoyed only having such a small amount of space between them. Which she did, oh she did, her already slim idea of personal space became even smaller when Tony was near, she wanted to be able to smell his aftershave, feel his mood, and most of all, she begged for a sudden movement so their bodies would collide, even if just for a moment.
Usual chatter commenced. McGee had raised his eyebrows and the space, or lack thereof between Tony and Ziva, he appeared to go to say something, but Tony felt Abby kick him under the table. It appeared at catalyst had been added to this hunt. Abby and McGee had begun discussing computer forensics, something neither Tony nor Ziva had the slightest clue about.
"They get on like a house alight." Ziva commented
"A house on fire Ziva. The term is house on fire." He couldn't help but correct her idioms, he enjoyed it, and really, he enjoyed it when she messed them up, it was cute.
"They mean the same thing. A house alight and a house on fire are the same."
"Yes, but that's just not the way we say it."
"The English language is ridiculous sometimes!"
"You may have pointed that out before."
They're conversation was soon interrupted another NCIS team. Although teams rarely worked together, they spent a lot of time together in the office, and naturally were friends.
"Hey guys, budge up, we hit the bar at happy hour, all the tables are taken."
Taking a quick glance around, Ziva confirmed that all the tables were now taken. Tony shifted his way around the booth, toward Abby and McGee. With now 7 people crammed into a four person booth, everyone had taken on Ziva's view of space. Noticing the sudden lack of space, Tony realised that now there really was no space at all between him and Ziva. Her thigh was pressed against his, her shoulders just below his. Her scent was suddenly overwhelming.
"Is there a problem Tony?" she asked, her eyebrow cocked in a way that said she knew exactly what that problem was.
"Not at all Zee-vah." He replied, playfully elongating her name.
She winked at him, and he realised that from the angle he had to turn his head to speak to her, he got a very nice view of her cleavage. This was his new favourite place to sit, definitely.
Two hours later, he had lost no love for the position, in fact it had slowly gotten better. Every laugh she gave, vibrated through her body, and he felt each movement, every time he spoke to her, he got a beautiful flash of cleavage, and as the night wore on, he felt her begin to lean against him. The only slight problem, was that it was not just his mind that was feeling these things, a place further south was aware of each movement, every time her scent got a little stronger. Just everything about her tonight was felt down south. There would be a lot of new material for his frequent Ziva fantasies.
A movement further down the booth dragged Tony's attention from Ziva's cleavage. Abby, McGee and the other team were getting out. It's home time he thought. Reluctantly he moved away from Ziva, and instantly felt the loss. He manoeuvred his way from the booth and offered Ziva his hand, which she took, even though it was just her hand, a jolt of heat shot from the touch. To clarify he wasn't going mad he chanced a look at Ziva, and yeah, she'd felt it, she gave him a look that could only be described as elevator eyes, and he smirked in response.
In the car it did not escape Ziva's notice, that she, indeed had succeeded in her mission, that she'd refuse to accept, but had done unknowingly so. Tony had not once looked at a leggy blonde. He too had succeeded in his mission, Ziva's eyes had been on him. For both of them, it was surprisingly arousing, knowing that you could hold another's attention so completely.
Once they had approached Ziva's apartment, both members of this party exiting the car, the proclaim that Tony was going to walk her to her door. Reality was such though, that really he was reluctant to leave her, and she him, when she could have commented that there was no reason for him to lock his car door if he was just walking her inside, she ignored it, because really she did not want him just to walk her to the door. With an extra sway of her hips to entice him in, she allowed him to 'walk her to her door'. The elevator to her floor seemed to leave them standing almost as close as they'd been sat, the space around them seeming poisonous, leaving only the tiny patch of floor they were stood on safe. As the elevator doors opened, the only space they granted each other was enough for Tony to once again plant his eyes on Ziva's behind. A flaw in Tony's plan to walk Ziva to her door arose when they actually reached her door, because he found himself utterly unsure of what to do. He watched her unlock her door, and lean against the frame.
Their eyes met in an instant. He took an unknowing step forward, drawn by her eyes, glittering in a way he had not seen in a while. Her eyes danced from his own, and he mirrored her line of sight. Suddenly he could not realise how he had sat next to her all night. Her lips were curved into a kiss me now smile, they looked so soft, perfect. So damn kissable. In a moment temptation was too much, he couldn't resist.
His lips crashed to hers, melding together. He could not believe that it took him 5 years to do this, because this was the best thing he'd done in years, even James Bond seemed meek now. His fried brain circuit finally recovered from initial spark, and only then did he realise he was kissing his best friend. He pulled back, hoping to retain all of his limbs.
Ziva felt him retreating, wondering if he was regretting what he'd done, and she hoped to God he was not, because damn, she was sure as hell not. She saw his questioning look, and instead of trying to rewire her brain, she let its natural response respond. She grasped him by the shirt, pulling him back to her, meeting his lips with hers. Within a moment he was kissing her back, clearly his doubt removed. His hands tangled in her hair as he pressed her against the door. She kept pulling him closer, even though he was pressed flush against her, he wasn't close enough.
"In. Now. Neighbours." She managed to gasp between kisses.
The dear old lady next door would not appreciate this public display. As the door was kicked shut behind them, her legs clamped around his waist as her pressed her against the wall, his lips trailing down her throat, the chase began. The assassin, the predator was stalking its prey, ready to take them down.
Her fingers clawed against his buttons, pulling them open as fast as she could, nails dragging down his chest before pushing it from his shoulders. Her hands were disabling from tugging at his fly and pant button as he yanked her shirt over her head. She fiddled with his button as he threw her shirt on the floor, she pushed them down his hips, and he made quick work of her jeans. They did not even have time to step out of their pants before he was inside her.
It was hard, it was fast, and it was utterly enjoyable. As they sank to the floor, legs unstable, the hunt was complete. This was the point that they ran. Tony never stayed until morning, he made his escape as soon as it was over, as did Ziva, but she was in her apartment, she could not run. It was at this point, when they left, leaving their partners yearning for them, only to never see them again, because that was the creatures that they were. They unknowingly took the heart of innocent victims, and left them before they had even realised what had happened. Yet now, here they sat, with no desire to run, and all too aware that they had just had sex with their best friend. The assassin had taken them down, caught their prey, but now they were engaged in a brutal war, each decidedly unsure of what to do, because this was not the kind of hunt they were used to.
After many moments of silence, they reached a mutual moment if enlightenment, there was something different about what they had had felt something other than lust pouring through their veins. Something that they were afraid to admit, but clearly hung in the air. Now, neither of them could get up and leave, for if they did, they would be leaving behind 5 years of friendship, and taking with them a broken heart. They were scared.
Ziva began to climb to her feet, afraid of what this had become. She headed to the bathroom, the only place she could think was safe.
In an ultimate battle between to warriors, there was little that could be done, you either fought to the death, perhaps neither coming out alive, or you realise, together, you are more powerful that one. Assassins openly lashing at their heart strings stopped, they'd found the perfect hunting partner.
Ziva felt movement behind her, and spun around, standing like a dear in headlights. She saw the way he looked at her, a look she refused to take for what it was, because the possibility was too frightening, but it pulled at something inside her.
"Ziva." He said calmly, but his voice still held the sound of fear "Don't run away from me."
"I am not." She stated, but her tone did not hold as much confidence as she would have liked "We just had sex, I would like to go and clean up."
He winced at her harsh tone, the bluntness to her statement, but he would not be deterred.
"Is that all it was to you? Sex? Can you honestly tell me that was all you felt? Am I just a mindless fuck to you?" It came out far harsher than he intended, he regretted his tone as soon as it had left his mouth, but he couldn't take it back.
Ziva wanted to be angry at him, really, she did, but he was so nearly right, they had just had sex, that really was it, but she so dearly wished that it had been something more.
"Ziva, I'm sorry, I..."
"No." She cut him off "You are not just a mindless fuck, at least I do not want you to be."
Her admission stunned him, and her, she had not meant to be so open. Ziva never admitted weakness. It left her to vulnerable, and Tony was amazed she had not run away, but here she was, stood in her underwear, in front of him, admitting she wanted more.
"Do you trust me?" he asked, almost fearing the answer.
She hesitated for a moment, but she knew the answer "Yes."
"Then let me do this right, how we should have done it."
"Ok." She all but whispered.
As soon as her agreement had escaped her lips, he was crossing the room to meet her, to pull her into his embrace. He caressed her cheek, and she realised that she wasn't scared anymore, she could see it in his eyes, they were going to do this right, and he would not leave her behind battered, he was in as deep as she was. His lips came to hers, and the hunger had left them, what was left was a slow languidness, taking the time to really appreciate what it was finding. This time they found no rush to throw clothes off, no rush to be matching thrusts, they had time. He walked her back to her bedroom, hand still on her cheek, lips still caressing hers. Her knees met the edge of the mattress, and she fell back, only then did her lips leave his.
He watched her for a while, drinking in the beauty before him, wondering how she had agreed to let him in. As she watched him, his eyes fixed on her, she saw no hunger, like he had just found his next meal, like she was a piece of meat, she saw appreciation, that to him, she was more than just another woman. Her cheeks began to flush under his intense gaze.
"Tony." He voice was slightly lower than usual, because although this wasn't just sex, that didn't mean she didn't feel the arousal, because she sure as hell did.
"You're beautiful." He said as he climbed onto the bed with her.
He pressed his lips back to hers, missing the feeling of them upon his. Slowly he trailed his lips from hers down her throat, determined to find all the spots that made her writhe beneath him, the spots that made her moan, or made her press her thighs together. He discovered that if you lightly nipped the skin behind her ear, her hips was arch upward, it you licked just over her pulse, she made the sexiest noise he had ever heard.
"Roll over." He told her, and she willingly complied.
His lips began trailing down her back, and she realised he was kissing virginal spots of her body, never before had anyone taken their time with her, nor would she have let them. Now though, as his lips caressed patterns over her back, as his hands slowly came to unhook her bra, she would not have stopped him for the world. His lips followed behind his hands as he slipped the straps from her shoulders. Only one he'd carefully placed kisses up both arms, and to each of her cute back dimples, did he roll her over again.
He resumed his careful caresses with his lips, slowly he trailed from her throat, over to the swell of her breasts and down her stomach. She squirmed, unable to stop her body from reacting, his mouth was close, but nowhere near close enough to stop the ache she was feeling. However he was not going to comply with her silent demands, not just yet, he was going to enjoy every bit of her. His hands slid down her slender legs, and his mouth followed behind. He pressed a kiss to each calf, then behind her knees, he pressed his lips to her inner thighs, and her hips bucked slightly, and it took all her strength not pull him by the hair to where she wanted him, he seemed to sense her desperation and finally met her needs. After the sweet, but evil torture, felt an open mouthed kiss right at her centre, she groaned in pleasure.
Ziva had never been one for this kind of thing, it left her too open, but looking down, and seeing Tony's head between her legs, she realised this did not remotely bother her. She let her head roll back, and allowed herself to revel in the pleasure of Tony's tongue probing inside her, making her squirm, and press his head down further. She could feel it boil inside her, and she realised she was about to fall over the edge before he had even entered her. She was almost 100% sure this was the first time she had experience anything like this.
"Oh, oh God!"
Her hips bucked, and proof that she had not lied in their conversation years before, a guttural scream escaped her lips. Tony decided it was definitely his favourite noise, and vowed to make sure he heard it as often as he could. The fog finally clearing from her mind she pulled his head up, meeting him with a searing kiss, not even bothering that she could taste herself on his tongue. His length pressed against her stomach, and in a lust filled moment she was demanding him inside her.
"I want you in me. Now!" She commanded, his face pulled only millimetres from hers.
This was one command Tony was happy to oblige to, with one last kiss, he sank into her - God she felt good. Second time round he filled her far better than the first. They started up a slow rhythm, their lusty noises filling the room. With each thrust he reached a little bit deeper, but not deep enough. He switched his position just slightly, allowing himself a better angle, and allowing him to thrust deeper.
"Tony, oh!" she moaned
He responded by thrusting harder, her head fell back against the pillow and her hands bunched the sheets. She couldn't think straight, there was no space in her brain for anything other than what she was feeling right now.
"Ziva! God!"
His thrusts into her heat were the most amazing feeling he'd ever had. She was so close to the edge, but he was closer, and he wasn't going to go over without her. He took his hand from her hip and brought it down to stimulate her clit. She began to unwind faster at the added sensation. Her hips began to buck wildly, he could tell she was about to fall over the edge. He watched her coming undone beneath him, her hands that squeezed the sheet so hard her knuckles turned white, her back arched, face flushed. Like this; unhinged, she was so unbelievably beautiful. His mind was drawn from watching her as he felt her walls contract around him. With one last thrust it finally pushed him over.
Coming down from their high, he pulled out of her and lay beside her, pulling her to him. They were still slick with a sheen of sweat. Their smiles matched in an agreement - that was amazing. Her body melded into his as their breathing returned to normal. For a few minutes they just lay there, then her brought his hand up, cupping her cheek, and gently pressed his lips hers.
"That was how we should have done it." He said
"Hmm." She hummed in agreement
They lay, contented for an unmeasured amount of time, until Ziva began to stir. She moved from his arms, and for a minute Tony thought she was running away. That was until, he saw the look in her eyes. She had a mischievous glint that told him she was definitely not running. He took her invitation, and got up too. Once he was within arm's reach, she pulled him to her, with a force only a Mossad agent could poses. He was shocked by their sudden collision of bodies, but had no time to show it, because she mouth was crashing to his.
"I am not done with you yet." She growled, her smirk she could not hide, and with that she slammed her lips back to his and they fumbled their way to the bathroom.
Two assassins now rested their hunger to hunt for new prey quenched, because they had their prey, locked within their jaws. They needed not to find new blood, because they were the perfect hunting pair. Each night they would hunt each other, feed from each other and make each other stronger. Sometimes when combustible chemicals are combined, the product is far greater than the reactants, instead of destruction, what is created is beautiful.
A/N I don't know if I like this story, but then again, I never know whether I like what I write, so I'm posting this anyway and leaving it up to you. :)