I promised a Tiva sex story et voila! Hope you enjoy.
Tony and Ziva argued all the way down the dirt tracks to the obscure motel out in the country. Tony insisted on driving so Ziva took it upon herself to criticise every mistake he made and Tony retaliated by likening every tree, house, bird to a movie. Tempers threatened to flare up with potential disastrous consequences. However, both had become skilled in the art of keeping the irritation to a maximum level although it was sometimes excruciatingly difficult. By the time they arrived, Tony was red in the face and Ziva had sharp edges to her eyes. They slammed the doors and stalked side by side through the chipped door. The bored looking receptionist looked startled as they jostled each other in the doorway. Her eyes flicked from the exotic beauty to the chiselled muscle and her eyes widened at the sight of the attractive, playfully arguing couple. The motel was shabby and obviously attracted older, coarser people.
'Grant Motel, how may I help?' she intoned, her eyes searching their body language for clues.
'We have reserved a room,' Ziva explained quickly, cutting Tony off before his open mouth could produce any sound.
The receptionist smirked knowingly at Tony and inquired sweetly, 'Name?'
Ziva kept her mouth determinedly shut and ignored the tense pause as Tony waited for her to speak. Finally, he gave in. 'Marks,' he stated, the word rolling awkwardly off his tongue. He had rarely used a fake name since his time undercover with Jeanne and he had not yet recovered the ease with which he had been able to lie effortlessly. Ziva gave the receptionist a sweet smile and Tony bit back a scowl. Ziva was so much better at undercover than him and she wasn't hiding the fact that she knew it.
'One room?' the receptionist asked, badly disguising the images this conjured up in her head.
'Yes,' Tony snapped, noticing the dreamy look in her eyes. He had been tense ever since Gibbs had told them of their newest task and even tenser when Vance had decided that one room was the only way to make their stay realistic. 'Is anything odd about that?' he inquired bitingly.
The once genial receptionist looked taken aback by this outburst. A frown took over her face and increased the depth of the over tanned wrinkles on her forehead. She did not hide her scowl and it remained on her face for the rest of the exchange.
'You did not pay in advance.' She pouted her lips sulkily at his lack of willingness to pull out his credit card. 'You need to pay.'
Tony clenched his jaw and pulled out his hastily made credit card. He slapped it down on the counter and returned the woman's scowl. She eyed it suspiciously and gingerly lifted it up. Ziva rolled her eyes at this melodramatic display and shifted her feet impatiently. The woman made no attempt to quicken her movements and Ziva's temper gradually worsened. Tony groaned inwardly, praying that she would not take it out on him later. He really did not want to get this weekend off to a bad start.
The receptionist eventually completed the transaction and returned the card to his owner. She turned around and waddled over to the rack of keys behind her, giving both guests a prime view of her flabby body, barely concealed by her slack clothing, hiding a flatulent rear end. Tony removed his eyes from the unsightly view and raised them to the key rack. He ran his eyes over the empty hooks, trying to memorise the room numbers. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Ziva doing the same albeit almost definitely more successfully. One of those rooms contained a murderer. 'Room 13,' the receptionist squawked sulkily. Tony snatched the key out of her hand and practically pulled Ziva out of the foyer.
They made their way to their room in companionable silence, neither wanting to unleash the other's annoyance generated by the horny, petulant woman. They found their room easily but unlocking the door proved to be more difficult. Tony's first two attempts to stick the key into the lock failed and Ziva tried to push him out the way to allow her nimbler fingers to do their magic but he objected vehemently to this interruption and insisted on completing the tricky task. After a few minutes, Ziva sank to the floor, resting her weary back against the unpainted wall and staring at the cracks in the ceiling. Tony continued to fiddle with the key until finally admitting defeat. Ziva straightened up and slipped the key into the lock and twisted it. Tony's mouth twitched but he fought his scowl, reluctant to give Ziva the opportunity to compare him to the obnoxious receptionist.
The room was barely furnished and the decor was shabby. The picture was a stark contrast to their lavish suite on their previous undercover assignment. Tony wrinkled his nose in disgust and waited for Ziva's torrent of complaints but she seemed fairly contented with the poor surroundings so he did the honours, desperate not to get sunk into another argument or, worse still, awkward silence.
'Bit rundown, don't you think?' he asked.
She shrugged. 'It's not so bad,' she replied, making her way into the bathroom. Tony hesitated but, when she did not shut the door, followed her in. He found her peering around the half-fallen shower curtain into the discoloured bath.
'It's only a weekend,' he said, trying to match her unbothered attitude. 'We don't need a shower.'
At this, she pursed her lips and regarded him with trepidation. 'If you are to stay in the same room as me, you must take a shower,' she informed him.
'It doesn't look to clean,' he protested.
She smirked slightly before straightening her face. 'Will you need some help?' she teased.
Tony's heart fluttered at the suggestion, even if it had been said in jest, it conjured up some alluring images of the two squashed into the shower. The picture he was imagining took place in the already dirty shower because that seemed to be where Ziva's sexual aggression would be most at home which allowed him to concentrate on her rippling naked body. His arms snaked around her slippery body and the water acted as a lubricant as he entered her. She moaned into his ear, the erotic sound muffled by the roar of the water. His body was backed into the cold tiles on the wall as her aggression revealed itself. Her body arched and her hips pounded against him. He came first, a growl of pleasure emitted from his lips at his climax, and he freed his fingers from their trap between the two tightly pressed bodies to trace her left butt cheek. His hand completed the circuit and cupped the whole cheek, pushing her further into him, and him deeper into her core. She climaxed with a deafening scream which tore through him.
Her voice broke into his vivid fantasy and dragged him out into the comparatively disappointing reality. 'You do not strike me as a clean person, Tony,' she mused. 'Why are you so revolted by this shower?'
His chest constricted as he thought up a suitable answer to this intuitive jibe. 'I may not be tidy, Ziva, but I don't like filth,' he answered lamely.
She snorted and slapped his cheek playfully. She had seen his mind disappear momentarily and she had some idea where it had gone. Truthfully, it had taken all her willpower not to imagine the same thing, but she managed to summon the required strength to control her mind since it seemed too intimate to both imagine the same compromising situation at the same time, it would be almost as if they were actually doing it. Her cheeks threatened to flush at this thought so she spun around and left him alone staring into the dingy bathtub.
She delved into her small bag, focusing her wandering mind on practical matters to prevent it from visualising erotic scenarios with her partner. His hands roamed her exposed body freely and his lips nipped at the tender flesh above her breasts. Her hand made its way down the muscular chest to reach the top of his manhood. Her fingers danced lightly down its erect length to trace the tip. She guided it towards her groin and let out a moan of ecstasy as he dived into her. Her breasts pressed up against his heaving chest and his hands cupped them, and it was his turn to let out a strangled gasp as her hard nipples pressed into his thumbs. His mouth found hers and their tongues slipped through parted lips to taste the other mouth. She grinded energetically against him, her legs winding their way around his waist until she was lifted off the ground. She arched her back, pressing him deeper into her and her eyes closed and rolled back beneath the lids in sheer exultation. She could feel his body tense and she could her from his growing cries that he was about to peak. She pulled away from him and her body supported itself once more. She dropped to her knees and took him in her mouth, relishing his taste; a salty, sweaty tang. He came the instant she began to service him and her mouth wrapped itself around him. His hands were entwined in her hair and his head was thrown back to release the pressure of the gratification she was providing. She pulled her head back and gulped in some much needed air: her head was becoming quite light headed. She straightened up and thrust him back into her vagina. She raised her hands to his jaw line and her tongue ran along it. His head pushed into hers and coated her skin with lavish kisses, working his way down to her stomach. She looked down and almost drooled at the sight of him squatting on the shower floor, his tongue racing in circles on her flat stomach, sending ripples of bliss up and down her body.
Four years ago, she would have had no trouble voicing these fantasies as taunts but the relationship had progressed past the meaningless banter stage and, if said, would have more serious connotations and detrimental effects to the atmosphere between them as they both reflected on the banter.
Once she had gone, he allowed his imagination full rein of his mind, and it became filled with naked, dancing Ziva's rubbing her hands up and down his body, the water running in rivulets down her spine and lapping at her dainty feet. He could almost feel her wet hair whipping against her chest and her stomach rubbing against his as she melded into him. It was all he could do to stop himself from raising his hands and moving them about in the air, acting on his fantasy with an imaginary Ziva. His throbbing penis was the only part of his body still heavily grounded in reality, reminding him where he was. If he had been alone in his own bathroom he would allow these thoughts to run rampant initially before quenching them before they got too graphic and diving into a cold shower. Ziva's body was warm, as she had proved so often; pressed against him in the elevator, breathing hot air down his neck from behind, her hand brushing up against his momentarily as they were thrown together by the break neck momentum of the car with Gibbs behind the wheel. The only place he was safe from his horny desires was under the icy blast of his power shower.
Ziva stepped backwards as she pulled her head from inside her bag and the floorboards creaked loudly. Tony remembered her closeness and struggled to regain control of his mind. Ziva would be suspicious if he hopped into the shower so soon after complaining about its state so he compromised with a virtual cold shower in his head. He concentrated all his efforts into relaxing his taut penis and did not realise that he was contorting his body just as if he was actually in the shower.
Ziva stared at him incredulously from her vantage point in the bedroom. She opened her mouth to snap him out of his trance but realised that the strange dance he was doing was rather enticing so restricted her shout and satisfied herself with leaving it agape. Tony's hands ran down his sides and through his hair, his body swaying side to side rhythmically. His movements were not defined, he was barely moving in fact, but they were easily perceptible and his palpitations were smooth and recognisable. She stifled a giggle as she realised that he was in the shower. The show lasted only a few moments before she released her pent up amusement and snorted. Tony's eyes jerked open and he stared at his hands resting on his hipbone in horror.
Slowly, his eyes followed the sound of the laughter and he grimaced at the sight of his partner convulsed with deep guffaws. He dropped his arms to lie by his side and blushed crimson. He turned around and glanced in the grimy mirror above the chipped sink. He twisted the tap and cupped his hands underneath the spluttering spurt of water, splashing it gratefully on his face. He took a deep breath before joining the now recovered Ziva in the bedroom.
She regarded him with interest, genuinely unsure what the purpose of his enactment was. She raised her eyebrows curiously and he finally let a scowl take prominence on his mouth. It suited him much better than the hag behind the desk and Ziva noted this.
They stood in silence for a while before Ziva broke the tension. 'I'm not judging you,' she remarked. 'It was quite entertaining really.'
Tony let his eyes wander down a crack on the wall to rest on her face. 'I was imagining...' he paused. 'Psycho. The shower scene. Janet Leigh and Anthony Perkins. Good film.' He paused again, studying her face for disbelief. 'I guess I got a little carried away,' he finished truthfully.
She nodded, a smile filling her face. 'I would have to agree with that.' He couldn't tell whether she had believed him or whether she just accepted the explanation to kill the rigidity of the mood. Whichever it was, he was grateful for the easy way out of the difficult situation and he warmed up to her in reality for the first time since they arrived. He glanced at his watch and, although it was only six o'clock, suggested they go down for dinner. As they began to prepare to go down, both sneaked quick glances into the bathroom, and both coloured at their shamelessness when the two writhing bodies appeared similarly in both imaginations.
PS. I have never had sex in a shower so I do not know what is possible. All this should be but if anything is unrealistic please tell me.