PLEASE NOTE: There is suggestive content in this chapter. Nothing explicit, but if you are sensitive, feel free to not read this.
Gibbs quirked a grin as Ziva softly padded up behind him to wrap her arms around his waist as he stood at the stove. They were finally home, seventeen days after Officer Bashan's visit.
In the week following that tumultuous day, the atmosphere of Ziva's hospital room had improved significantly. The tension Gibbs had been feeling had all but disappeared as his concerns over Ziva's state of mind had been temporarily appeased. He knew that the effects of Bashan's visit would persist, even after Ziva was discharged from the hospital, but the catharsis that had already been experienced had been enough for the time being.
Ziva hadn't spoken of Shmuel again. Instead, she had thrown herself into her physical therapy, which had consisted of exercises for her leg and her hand, as well as breathing routines to help regain maximum lung capacity. She improved quickly, and within a week was able to walk short distances without assistance, and longer distances with a pair of crutches, which she characteristically refused to use. The pain, for the most part, had faded to the point where she no longer showed any indication of it.
The rest of the team had visited her as often as they could, and over the weekend her room had been filled with laughter and boisterous voices. Ziva had attempted to get McGee to tell her about the team's latest case, but sharp looks from Gibbs had scared the young agent into resisting Ziva's efforts.
Once the nurses had stopped continually poking their heads into the room to see how she was feeling, Ziva had actually become quite congenial. It seemed to Gibbs that she did not begrudge the nurses their task of recording her vitals. She had only snapped at those who had asked such inane questions as "do you need something for the pain?", while she had conversed pleasantly with the nurses who prattled on about their kids or their weekends. Julia had told them that she had become the "belle of the ward," a title that had made Ziva snort in derision.
Only Gibbs had seen the shadow lurking in her eyes late at night, after everyone had gone home, the only indication her state of exile was bothering her. But she hid it well, behind smiles and snarky comments to Dinozzo. Gibbs didn't mention it himself, giving her time to work it out on her own. He was confident in the knowledge that when she finally spoke to anyone about it, he would be the one she came to.
At the moment, he was preparing dinner for the both of them, a king's feast of grilled cheese and tomato soup. The hand not gripping the spatula reached down and caressed the small hands on his stomach as the sandwiches sizzled in the pan. Her warmth pressed against his back, and he leaned back into it.
"Hello," she said, poking her head over her shoulder, her hair tickling the back of his neck. She looked at the cooking dinner for a moment before turning her head to plant a kiss on his cheek. "It is good to be home," she said.
"Uh huh," he said blandly, the smallest of smiles still on his lips. Her arms went slack as she pegged him with a sharp look, obviously unimpressed with his response.
"Uh huh?" she repeated, her tone feigning incredulity. Her gaze was playful though, which only made suppressing his mirth all the more difficult. "That is all you can say?" she continued. "My first night home in almost three months and all you can say is uh huh?" She pulled away, leaving his back open to the cool air coming in through the open kitchen window. "Well," she said, her tone now aloof, "my appetite has changed. You can keep your hot cheese sandwiches." As she began to leave the kitchen, she threw one last parting shot over her shoulder. "And I will not be telling you the good news I got from Doctor Johnson regarding certain physical activities…"
Her words eclipsed all thoughts of dinner as he snagged her arm before she had a chance to disappear from the room. He spun her around to face him before capturing her lips with his. She had been waiting for him, and her arms instantly came up to loop around his neck. He dipped her slightly as his momentum overcame her, but his arms were there, cradling her close. The kiss was intense, filled with passion that had been withheld for months on end. When they came up for air a few long moments later, Gibbs looked into her eyes, finding them darkened by an all-too-welcome excitement.
"And what were these physical activities you asked about?" Gibbs asked, his voice husky. A feral grin greeted him, but he wasn't going to let her off the hook that quickly. "You gonna make me guess?" he continued, his hands starting to roam, brushing up and down her sides.
"Well," she said, playing along, shifting into his touch, "I could give you some hints." She gave him a quick, yet sensual, kiss on his lips. "It is a sport that can definitely be played in the house…" She placed a kiss along his jaw line. "Anywhere." Another kiss, just under his ear. "In the bedroom." His neck fell prey to her ministrations this time. "On the couch." She pushed aside his shirt to taste his shoulder. "Against the kitchen counter." At this, his arousal flared, and he growled as her lips nipped his teasingly.
"And what," he huffed out between lust-burdened breaths, "did the good doctor say?"
"Have a blast," she reported, her voice a whisper that tickled his ear. Her hand crept to the waistband of his pants, and he barely managed to capture it in his before he lost the capacity for all rational thought.
"She didn't tell you to take it slow?" he asked suspiciously, even as the tiger inside him roared in protest, urging him to take her right then and there.
"Mmmm…" she moaned against him. "That was more of a suggestion than an actual order," she purred as she pressed into him, nuzzling his neck. Her hand drifted south once again, teasing, even as he tried to keep control of his own hands. He pulled away, to which she responded with a pitiful mewl.
"Ziva," he warned, attempting to make his voice as stern as possible. He looked at her, and silently cursed himself for his idiocy. He should have known that gazing at her would be his undoing.
Her brown eyes were wide, pleading, reminding him of a puppy who had been scolded. Her lower lip jutted out strategically, effectively completing her adorable mask. Her eyes betrayed her though, their lust-darkened depths revealing the wildcat threatening to overtake the puppy-dog disguise.
"Nice try, Ziver," he said. The wide eyes disappeared as her lids slitted, displeased. "Oh don't worry," he assured her, "we are most definitely going to be playing tonight." Her eyes brightened, but she didn't say anything, waiting for the catch. He stepped closer, leaning in to bring his lips to her ear. "But you're going to be taking it easy." His last three words were heavy with promise, and when Ziva pulled back to look at him, the burning desire in her eyes told him that she had caught his barely disguised promise. "Oh, but then there is dinner," he said, teasing her once again.
"I told you," she responded, "my appetite has… changed." The double entendre was not lost on him, and he made short work of turning off the stove and moving the warm pan to a cool burner. The last thing he needed was a fire alarm interrupting them. Then his attention had returned to Ziva.
A firm hand was pulling his head to hers, and their lips collided in a tempest of lust and yearning. For a moment, his hands framed her face, but they soon grew restless and traveled down to the line of buttons trailing down the front of her blouse. With practiced ease, he efficiently undid them, then reached up to push the material from her shoulders.
Breaking away from their kiss only long enough for Ziva to pull his own shirt over his head, Gibbs' hands quickly resumed their exploration of her body. Calloused fingers trailed over silk-clad breasts, down to the soft, warm skin of her abdomen. Every so often they encountered bumps and ridges as they discovered the scars her life-saving surgery had left behind. He traced them for a moment, investigating. When Ziva did not pull away, he was reassured that they no longer pained her. Then his hands brushed across her hips, then over her denim-clad derriere, coming to rest on the back of her thighs.
Taking a firm hold of them, Gibbs hoisted her up until her slender legs wrapped around his waist. She had lost weight during her stay at the hospital, and she seemed feather-light as the testosterone flooding his veins aided him further. Her hands had captured his face, and the scar on her palm from where her two pins had been inserted tickled his cheek. But then the sensation was gone as a single thought took over his mind. Without wasting another moment, he walked blindly to their bedroom, using only memory to guide his way. He nudged the door open impatiently, and then carefully deposited her on the plush comforter.
He stepped away from her reaching fingers as they plucked at the button on his jeans. He disrobed quickly, and then swooped in to physically still her hands as she worked to shed her clothes as well. When she looked at him inquiringly, he grinned and leaned in, placing a hand on either side of where she sat.
"I said you were going to take it easy," he told her, his voice growling with want. He crept closer, and she leaned away, slowly laying back on the bed until he was on top of her. He unfastened her jeans. "That means," he continued as he worked, "that I do all the work." She moaned in response as his hands caressed her legs as he removed her pants. She squirmed in anticipation as he returned to his position over her. He looked into her eyes, his head level with his. "You ready for this?" he asked.
An irritated impatience flashed in her eyes. Instead of voicing an answer, she reached up and forcefully yanked his head down to hers to give him a crushing kiss. The action took his breath away, and as his arousal grew even further, his flesh became hyperaware. He could feel her breath, her movements as her hips began to press up against his, her very pulse against touch. Primal instincts howled in his mind, urging him to devour her completely.
Without further hesitation, he obeyed.
A/N: In writing this, I realized I very much wanted to incorporate the boat... but I didn't think Ziva's injuries would allow it. If you would like the boat to be featured in a nice make-out session (I doubt I will ever be able to write anything more explicit than this) in the future, holler back!