This feels like the dirtiest thing I've ever written. Now, mind you, dirty for me has an entirely different definition. Than you'd think. Teehee. Enjoy. Oh, and please be weary of the rating. I do not own NCIS. Reviews are very, very much appreciated, and I'd love criticism.
And just to be clear- this is slightly AU. In my mind, Tony and Ziva are apart of an undercover operation similar to the one Jenny and Gibbs endured back in the day. This is my take on how they would, ah, handle that. I'd love to make this a series- if anyone wants it. Thanks!
-Alivia
It amused him to no end; how frustratingly daunting she was, even during sex.
Even when he had her pinned against oak, expensive dress hiked up her thighs, bare and undeniably his. Regardless of the fact Ziva David's legs were parted, entire being splayed before him, she still had the audacity to smirk- almost as if she knew that two people had to play for the game to be valid.
She stroked once, twice- and dangled his proverbial life between her fingers, mocking. He grasped her wrists in one grip, pinning her down, making her gasp and choke on rigid air. Tony kissed her until she made little kittenish noises in the back of her throat, other hand snaking to probe one, two fingers.
They practically slid in; he almost laughed at how easy she could be.
He added a third, and she dug the pointy heel of her shoe into his ass.
oOo
Holy water would do nothing for the filthy things he whispered in her ear. The syllables branded her like a hot iron, and turned her bones to ash. His fingers still played her, and an irresistibly delicious blush fanned out across her high cheek bones- warmed her.
As if she wasn't hot enough. He sucked her bottom lip, bit it, and she made a high, keening sound.
"Fuck," he said, expelling a few more expletives between his clenched teeth. The dress shirt he wore hung off his shoulders. Finally, he let go of her arms, which fell to her sides and swayed for second before she caught up with him.
oOo
He had his pants off in time to see her tease. Ziva caught his eyes, devastatingly sharp, taking her time in shimmying out of her black sheer underwear, unzipping her dress.
It fell to the floor with a whoosh, and she stepped out of it coyly.
All that was left of her was a pair of heels- precariously high, and black. Tony stepped forward, hand trailing down to her stomach, seeking the expanse of skin at her hipbone, palming her breast in the other. She kissed him fervently, all tongue, no decency.
oOo
They stumbled down the short hallway to the bed, running into walls, knocking things over.
Bruises would litter their skin in the morning- but he didn't care, and nor did she.
The sheets were haphazardly upended and pillows were shoved which way.
It was an image he had burned into his mind- Ziva David, laid before him, dark tresses standing stark against white, brown eyes piercing and needy and real. It was something he was sure he'd never forget whether or not they ever did this again.
If he ever slept with another woman, this is all he would see beneath his closed lids. This is all he would feel. He felt foolhardy- thinking it might be the same for her.
oOo
She wrapped her legs around his waist, and the heat of her was riveting, unbelievably slick. Deliciously tight. It took her a moment to adjust, and her eyes still stayed locked into his, never wavering, always trusting.
Her toes curled at the sensation him, and sweat beaded on his temple.
They stayed there, relishing in it, until she undulated against him, almost uncontrollably. They became but a moving mass, then.
The bed frame was loud as it thumped against the wall, and she gave little thought to how thin the walls were. Let the world hear, she decided.
oOo
His thrusts were reckless, and he watched her mouth open just slightly, dazed. He roughly thumbed her cheek, fisted a hand into her hair, keeping her attention. The submission was bittersweet, on her part.
The heat in her stomach started to nip at her veins, spreading, combusting.
"Tony," Ziva keened, and shattered.
He watched it, watched her fall apart, watched as the little shards of her writhed before him, and he tensed expectantly. He focused on the pretty pink of her lips, the bite marks on her neck, as he came down from the high.
oOo
She had calmed somewhat, was staring openly.
Rolling to the side, he watched her watch him.
Neither made any move to cover, to find sheets, to speak.
Talking wasn't really their thing anymore. Not that it had been before.
This assignment will be the death of us, he decided. And she thought so too.
oOo
Barcelona was their third undercover operation as partners, and he was still green to the black folders, and she was still weary. The city was beautiful, and the espionage delicate.
They'd been sleeping together for three weeks.
Barcelona was the unfilled corners, and the deafening silence, and the hot sex.
Barcelona was a game. She wishes, selfishly, that they knew how to cheat it.