Tony DiNozzo cannot believe what he is seeing.
He is standing on the sidewalk outside of Victoria's Secret, staring through the tall glass windows. Women mill around various displays of undergarments and normal clothing; there seems to be an overload of the color pink. None of this, however, is the reason he is enamored with the inside of the store.
The reason he is blocking foot traffic right now is Ziva David, the last person he expected to see here. She stands in front of a rack, one finger against her chin, appearing deep in thought. He racks his brain, trying to remember if she is seeing someone new, but no names come up. And surely she isn't dating somebody in secret. Tony and Ziva tell each other stuff now. He would have heard about it.
On a whim, he yanks open the door and steps inside. A survey of his surroundings reveals that he is the only man here; he makes a beeline for his partner, doing his best to ignore this fact. As he approaches her, she glances up, then lifts her head all the way.
"Tony?" she asks. "What are you doing here?"
He shrugs, hands in pockets, and registers what she's looking at. Slips. Pushing aside a very nice image of her wearing one of them, he says, "I saw you from outside. Thought I'd say hi."
"Oh." Ziva does not appear perturbed in the least. "Alicia in Human Resources had a gift card that she did not want. I had never been before, but I decided to come see what all the fuss is about."
Tony nods. "Find anything?"
And then he feels his face grow bright red, because she has reached down and grabbed a flimsy, transparent black slip. A coy smile plays on her lips as she holds it up. "I think this is nice. Don't you?"
"Uh." He feels his head bobbing up and down, but can't form words. "Uh, yeah. It is. You know."
Ziva chuckles and takes a step toward him. Too close, too close, he thinks as she tilts her head up in its usual flirting position. "I have no reason to wear it, though."
There's no boyfriend. A wave of relief washes over Tony. "Well," he offers, "you could get it just in case."
"I could," she muses, and tosses the slip over her arm. He smiles weakly at her, terribly glad that Gibbs is not here. If their boss saw the two of them fraternizing over lingerie… well. The outcome would not be pretty. "I am going to pay now," she continues, and he could swear that she waggles her eyebrows at him. "I will see you tomorrow, yes?"
"Yep," Tony says. She purposely brushes against him as she walks off. He is thinking too much, about Ziva and about that slip, and it is several seconds before he realizes that he is standing alone in the middle of Victoria's Secret.
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At work, she casts him knowing glances but does not bring up their encounter, which he is thankful for. Days pass. He struggles to take his mind off of her. This was a problem for him, anyway, but now that he knows she has lingerie just sitting in her apartment, waiting for use, it's worse. How can he not get distracted by the thought of her wearing that little slip?
A week afterward, the two of them are walking down the sidewalk on their way to pick up lunch for themselves and the team. Talk is of the case, but when there is a lull in the conversation, Ziva takes a step closer to him. Their arms bump against each other; she hooks hers through his. "I have a proposition for you."
"Oh, really?" he asks, and is hit with guilt as his mind immediately goes to the gutter.
"Yes." A gust of wind blows through. Her ponytail whaps her in the face, and she impatiently shakes it back over her shoulder. "You should come over tonight."
"We're gonna get off work really late."
"I know." Ziva cocks her head to the side. "Are you getting old, Tony? Do you need your sleep?"
He opens his mouth, then shuts it. She waits. "No," he says finally. "But, uh… okay. What're we going to do?"
"Oh," she says as they approach the sandwich shop. Taking her arm back, she hurries forward a few steps and opens the door, then keeps it propped open with her foot. Tony pauses on his way inside and levels his gaze at her. She drags a finger along his cheekbone alluringly, leaving a trail of fire behind. "I am sure we will find something."
And then she enters the shop, leaving him completely flabbergasted. He watches her retreating figure, her sashaying hips, before somebody behind him says, "You gonna go in or stare at her all day?"
Tony stutters out an apology and follows his partner. He hopes that she really did mean what he thinks she did, because if not, he's going to be extremely disappointed.
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Gibbs sends them home at ten, but Ziva tells Tony not to come over until eleven. He goes to his apartment, changes out of his suit, and leaves again. At ten fifty-nine, he is ringing her doorbell.
She answers the door. His eyes hungrily take her in, because he was sort of expecting her to be in the lingerie, but she has on jeans and a sweater. It's not any more seductive than what she wears to work on a regular basis.
Maybe he did get the wrong idea.
Ziva smiles sweetly, as if she means for him to be confused, and stands back. "Come in." He steps over the threshold and takes off his shoes without being asked- by now, he knows that she does not allow people to track dirt on her carpet. "Will you do me a favor, Tony?"
His tongue finds its way into his cheek. "Sure."
"There is wine in the kitchen. Go pour us each a glass."
And now he cannot read her at all. Is this romantic wine or friendly wine? Are they going to sit around and watch a movie? Because he loves doing that with her, but tonight, he was really hoping they'd be doing something else.
He does as he is told, though, and without question. She stays behind while he wanders into the kitchen and finds the wine. He fills two glasses halfway; as he's replacing the cork, arms come from nowhere to wrap around his waist, and he starts.
"You are a bit jumpy," Ziva notes. She slides her palms up his chest, breasts pressing into his back.
"Maybe a little." Her touch is searing his skin, even through his shirt. With no warning, she drops one hand down to his crotch and lightly strokes him over the material of his jeans. Tony immediately hardens, but she is not done. Her nimble fingers unbutton and unzip him, and then she reaches inside to squeeze him, hard, through only his boxers. "Ziva," he gasps.
"Yes?" she drawls. Tease.
Tony takes both of her hands off of him and turns around. She is smirking. He pulls her closer by the hips and lowers his head so that their breaths mingle together. When he exhales, she inhales; as always, they are working in tandem. "What're you doing?" he asks huskily.
"It just seemed like a shame for me to have spent money on that lingerie if I was not going to use it," she murmurs, tracing the outline of his jaw. "And I figured that, ah… you and I are baring our souls, so why not bare everything else, too?"
He wants to pinch himself, because surely this is a dream. Surely. There's no way this is really happening.
Then she grinds her hips against his, giving him a little jolt and letting him know that yes, he actually is awake.
Ziva stands on her toes and kisses him. From the start, the kiss is frantic; they hold tight to each other, nails digging into clothing. He hoists her up a little so he doesn't have to lean down so far. Somewhere in his oxygen-deprived brain, it registers that she has pushed his jeans off his waist and they are now pooled around his feet. He steps out of them, pulling her with him. Ziva grabs his face between her hands and shoves her tongue almost violently into his, overtaking it and effectively winning the battle for dominance.
Then, too soon, she is wriggling out of his arms and backing up. Tony whines, reaching out for her, but she holds up one finger. When he quiets, she grabs the hem of her sweater and pulls it over her head, revealing that underneath, she is wearing the see-through slip over a black push-up bra that has all of her cleavage bulging out the top.
She is, without a doubt, the sexiest woman he's ever seen in his life.
Her hands move to her pants, but he grabs her belt loops and tugs her back toward him. "I wanna do it," he says, putting his hand beneath the slip and skimming his fingers across her bare skin before undoing the top button. Then he pulls her zipper slowly down. Ziva allows him this much before gently pushing him away and taking the jeans off herself. Tony stares, transfixed. Her slip just barely covers her butt; beneath it, he can see a lacy black thong. There is almost nothing left to his imagination.
"So," she says with measured nonchalance. "Do you think this was worth the money?"
"Uh, yeah," he blurts out, and she throws her head back and laughs. It's a beautiful, tinkling sound. He engulfs her in his arms, couldn't stop himself even if he wanted to, and begins kissing up her neck. Ziva combs her fingers through his hair and mewls in approval when he draws her earlobe into his mouth and worries it between his teeth. He bites down, drawing a gasp from her. The sound makes his cock twitch, and he pushes it against her so she knows what she's doing to him.
As he moves to the other side of her neck, Ziva slides her hands up his t-shirt. One of her thumbs settles over each of his nipples and tweaks them. If a woman has ever tried stimulating him in this way before, he doesn't remember it, but he likes it.
He sucks on her soft flesh, leaving behind a trail of red, irritated skin. She continues to rub his chest, craning her neck to give him better access, until he draws back for air. In one fluid motion, she yanks his shirt over his head and tosses it aside. Before he can resume what he was doing previously, she has grabbed his biceps and pitched forward. She is peppering his chest with kisses, closing her lips around his nipples. He grasps the chiffon of her slip and studies the popcorn ceiling as she drags her tongue down his abdomen. The hot moisture dips into his belly button. Just as he's wondering if she'll notice his erection, she clutches it through the fabric of his boxers.
Tony reaches back to balance himself against the kitchen counter, then looks down to find her kneeling on the ground in front of him. With an impish smile, she hooks two fingers in the waistband and pulls them down. He groans as his throbbing cock is freed, but the groan becomes a yelp and an expletive when Ziva takes him in her mouth. His hands tangle in her hair as she travels down his length, teeth scraping against it. She caresses his tip with her tongue, causing him to brace both hands on the counter, and then draws him completely in. He waits for more, but none comes; she is still, and so is he.
After several seconds, she releases him and stands up. He squelches his desire to protest and fixes his gaze on her instead. Her face is flushed, lips swollen already, eyes smoldering. The sight doubles his want. "That was your preview for later."
Tony can't help it. He grins. If that was an example of what he'll be getting, he's more than happy to wait.
Ziva makes a big show out of looking him up and down. "You are wearing nothing."
"Very good investigative work, Agent David."
She ignores his sarcastic comment. "Are you cold?" "Nope. Pretty hot." He pulls her to him and captures her mouth with his. She returns the heated kiss, hands flat against his shoulder blades. Tangling his fingers in her slip, he mutters, "So you're still wearing this."
"I got the idea that you like it quite a bit," she replies, gently biting his lower lip. Tony can't take her teasing anymore; he goes to undress her, but she breaks out of his embrace and spins away. The slip rides up as she does so, giving him a fantastic view of her nearly-bare ass. Once she is out of his reach, she says, "Not yet, Tony."
"Ziva," he whines. Honestly, the only thing he wants in life at this moment is to see her naked, to pleasure her, to make her scream his name. But it's pretty clear who's running this show, and it is definitely not him.
"Lie down," she orders, pointing at the kitchen floor.
Tony narrows his eyes. "What?"
"You heard me." She picks up one of the abandoned wine glasses and takes a long, slow sip from it. Not knowing what else to do, he sits down on the linoleum tiles- and those are cold- and stretches out on his back. Ziva stands above him. He admires the view while she appears to deliberate.
"Okay," she says finally, and straddles his lap. As she wiggles around on top of him, he can feel that her panties are soaking wet, and having that so close to his cock makes it swell painfully with desire. He closes his eyes, trying to control himself, but they spring open when something splashes on his stomach.
"What the…" He lifts his head to see the wine trickling over his skin, forming a haphazard line from his collarbone to his waist. Ziva grins and gets up on her hands and knees to form a cage around him, which puts her breasts right in his line of vision. That might be the point; he's not sure.
"Here we go," she says in a voice that is both taunting and sweet, and lowers her tongue to his chest. She sweeps it over him, slow and seductive, lapping up every drop of wine. He places a hand on the back of her head, guiding her movements. The contrast of hot and cool causes stirrings deep inside of him; he wants her to douse him in the wine and then lick him all over, and he wants to do the same to her.
As she nears his groin, he grips her hair tighter in anticipation. She gets the last of the wine and smacks her lips as if she has just finished her favorite meal- and, he supposes, she has been devouring him. With a wiggle of her eyebrows, she reaches for the glass and dumps the rest of the wine across his cock and balls. He cries out, pelvis bucking into the air against his will.
"Hush," she chastises him, and goes to work. He bites his lip to keep quiet as she licks around his length in a spiral, pokes around under each of his balls, explores every single forgotten place. The sensation of her sucking up the wine is almost more than he can bear, and he has to let go of her so he can press his fingers into his temples. He concentrates on breathing- in, out, in, out- and on not thrusting into her mouth. When she's done, she snaps her head up, breathing heavily and brushing her hair out of her face, and sits back on his legs. Continuing to stroke him with one finger, she asks, "How was that?"
"Damn," he gasps out.
"Is that a good thing, Tony?"
"Yep."
Ziva grins and puts on an oh-so-innocent expression. "Would you like to undress me now?"
"Hell yes," he says, bolting upright. She laughs as he yanks the slip over her head and throws it away. He cups her breasts through her bra, kneads them gently. Ziva arches her back and pushes into his palms. She reaches behind her; a second later, the bra falls and he sees her mounds, topped with stiff nipples, in the flesh.
She leans forward to rub them against his chest. Tony lets her toy with him, because they feel so good. So good. He is pulsing again, absolutely aching with arousal, figuratively and literally. His eyes fall onto the last, flimsy piece of clothing Ziva has on. He grabs each side of the thong and yanks. She's sitting, so it doesn't go anywhere.
"Get up," he mutters. "Just for a second."
Instead of simply lifting herself off of him, she gets to her feet. As he watches, she pulls her panties down to her knees, then lets go. They fall unceremoniously to the ground. Tony stares, taking her in, and she allows it.
"You're so pretty," he hears himself saying, reaching up to tug on her hands. She returns to the floor, this time settling down in front of him, and he turns her so her back is to him. "No, you know what?" he asks, spreading his legs and pulling her between them. The fact that his erection is digging into her back does not seem to bother her; she leans heavily on him, allowing her head to loll into the crook of his shoulder. "You're gorgeous. Absolutely drop-dead gorgeous." His hands reach around to her front and find her breasts. He massages them simultaneously, twists and pinches her nipples, eliciting a loud groan. What he really wants to do is taste Ziva, suckle her, but their position is all wrong for that. He'll have to wait.
One of his hands drifts downward. Understanding what he's about to do, she opens her legs. He cups her first, encompasses all of her heat.
"You're so wet," he marvels, using his entire hand, palm and all five fingers, to stroke up and down. Ziva's breathing picks up speed. "Your whole shtick tonight was to drive me crazy, wasn't it?"
"Pretty much," she sighs as he sinks into her folds. Chin on her shoulder, free arm clamped around her middle, he rubs the swollen tissues, clockwise and then counter. Her eyes are shut; the tables have turned. She is at his mercy now.
He probes around, finds her clit. Ziva holds onto the tops of his thighs for support as he moves his fingers in fast, hard, tight circles. Occasionally, she moans quietly; then, when he tries a different angle, she cries out.
"There, Tony," she gasps, nails digging into his skin. "Right there. Like that. Kacha bediyuk."
Tony continues to do what she wants. She alternates between making sounds of approval and breathing, "Ken, kacha," words he doesn't understand, but her tone is terribly erotic, so he gets the gist of it. She is throbbing against his hand, alerting him that she is nearing climax. He keeps going like this for a couple minutes before deciding to try and push her over the edge. Without warning, and despite the awkward angle it requires of his wrist, he hooks two fingers inside her.
"Tony!" she yells. Her muscles contract around him, and she bucks her hips, trying to pull him in deeper. He goes in and out, pumping and working her, as she continues to thrust. Then, with one last scream, she lets go. New arousal coats his fingers and she collapses into his chest, eyes squeezed shut. Tony stays inside of her as she rides out her orgasm. His balls tighten and he grows ever harder; it would not take much for him to come now.
Ziva is winding down. He withdraws and wraps both arms tightly around her, rocks her a little, before she opens her eyes. She buries her face in one side of his neck and holds onto the other side. "Tony."
"Yeah."
"I knew inviting you over was a good idea."
He pauses, caught off guard, but then begins to chuckle. Kissing the top of her head, he says, "I'm glad you did."
It sort of feels like they should go sleep now, which is weird, because he has all sorts of unfinished business. Maybe it's just something about seeing his partner, the woman he's loved for so long now that he doesn't even know when it started, looking content and satisfied and knowing that he's the one who made her feel that way. Whatever it is, he's already feeling amazing; if they stopped now, he wouldn't complain too loudly.
They aren't done, though, and he is quite thrilled about that.
Ziva climbs out of his lap. As he admires her perfect, round ass, she walks over to the counter, sidestepping clothes on her way, and picks up that second glass of wine. He wonders if he's about to be explored again, but thinks otherwise when she sits down on the ground.
"Come here," she says, beckoning him with a finger, and he complies. She draws her knees up and spreads her legs wide. The light in the kitchen dances off of the slickness. Ziva holds the glass by the stem and tilts it over her pelvis. As he watches, the droplets of wine snake through her pubic curls and disappear into her crevices. He longs to follow them.
She puts the glass beside her and leans forward. Sliding her arms around his neck, she gives him a long, heady kiss, and then she puts her mouth by his ear. "Would you like to taste me, Tony?"
"Yes," he responds immediately, caressing her back dimples, and then she has escaped his grip. She sits back, reclining on her hands, and watches him expectantly. He stretches out on his stomach and crawls forward until she is right in front of him. With no further preamble, he attacks her core with his mouth. The wine and wetness combine to create something he's never tasted before, but it's amazing. He kisses her, sucks at her, while she puts two hands on the back of his head to keep it pressed between her legs.
"Don't miss anything," she chides, and he grunts. Can't answer right now, but if he could he would say, I sure as hell won't.
When he thinks he's done (though he could keep doing this for a lot longer), he gives her another lick from bottom to top for good measure. Ziva fists his hair and moans loudly. Wanting to hear the sound again, he swirls around her clit.
This time, it's his name that comes out of her mouth. "Tony."
He looks up. "Yeah."
"Sit up."
He does so, though reluctantly, because she tastes so damn good. As soon as he sits up, Ziva plants herself in his lap. His legs are stretched out and she has one knee on either side of him. Suddenly understanding what she wants, he fumbles, tries to guide himself into her, but he can't.
"You're too tight, Ziva," he tells her. "I won't fit."
She scowls. "So loosen me up."
Tony rediscovers her clit and tries to do as he is told. Her nails rake down his back as he works at the same angle that was so effective earlier. She bites her lip; he can tell that she is purposely trying to stay quiet. Her breasts are reachable, so he ducks down and takes one in his mouth. Ziva gasps. He keeps rubbing her down below as he tastes her as well, and then she says, "Okay. Now."
This time, he easily slides in. She scoots forward as far as possible, winding her legs around his waist. Her head falls back as he penetrates her and settles between her walls.
"You okay?" he asks, running his hands up and down her back.
"Fine." Ziva closes her eyes and begins to move her hips against his. He notes her pattern and tries to join her, but the movements are awkward and out of sync and not meant for this position.
"Hold onto me," he tells her, and puts a hand under her ass, keeping her tight against him. He succeeds in laying her back and crawling on top without falling out. "Okay. Let's go like this."
With that, he leads the way, rhythmically pounding into her. Ziva gets into his groove and there they are, moving together, the way he always knew they would. He braces his hands against the kitchen floor and keeps his eyes on Ziva. She's beautiful- she always is, but she appears especially so now, with her features screwed up in concentration and locks of hair falling across her face. Tony moves them to the side and kisses the tip of her nose.
"Tony," she hisses, "I'm close."
He knew this; after all, she's been worked in the past few minutes. He figures she wants him to finish her off, so he draws all of his cock out except for the tip and prepares to ram back in.
But she stops him. "Tony, I want to come with you."
"Oh," Tony says, and he's actually really flattered. He caresses her cheeks. "Can I keep going?"
"Yes."
"Tell me if you need me to stop."
"I will."
He reenters her, prompting a grunt, and then resumes his pelvic movements. She has her eyes screwed shut; he knows it is part of her effort to put off her orgasm, and he tries to reach his own as quickly as possible, because he wants her to be able to let go. Her body, surrounding him, writhing against him, is more than enough. It's a matter of when, not if.
After just a couple minutes, his balls are tightening to the point of pain, and it won't be long now. But then Ziva says, "I can't wait."
"You go," he tells her, pulling out halfway. "You go, and I'll come with you."
"Are you sure?"
"Promise," he says, then hopes he can deliver. Her eyes are wide and childlike, as if all she'll ever ask for is this one thing.
"Okay," she whispers, granting him permission, and he drives into her. With a scream, she shudders, and her walls clench, drawing him in further. Just as he promised, the stimulation causes him to spill inside her. He grits his teeth until all of his seed is gone, then buries his head in Ziva's shoulder while they wait to descend from their high. Once he has regained his bearings, he allows his length to move slowly back and forth, working her down. Her death grip on him soon loosens, and he pulls out before rolling onto his back on the kitchen floor, all of his limbs feeling like jelly.
She curls into his side, one bare knee tucked between his. This floor isn't good for his back, and it's probably not sanitary, either, but for now, he's glad to be here. He takes Ziva's face between his hands and then brings it down for a soft, tender kiss. When she pulls away, she is smiling.
"I'm really glad you bought that lingerie," he says, knowing that the grin on his face is stupid but not caring a whole lot.
"So am I," she smirks, rubbing his stomach.
"Maybe you could, uh… wear it again sometime."
Ziva raises her eyebrows, but looks mildly amused. "You couldn't wait to get it off of me, Tony."
"Yeah, well." He hugs her to him, drops two kisses onto her shoulder. "I sure liked the outcome."
She chuckles into his chest. "So did I."
Yeah, see? Absolutely no point to this. Fluffy smut.
Thanks for reading!