Well, massive thank you for all the positive responses to the last chapter. Carrying on in the same vein here, mostly Tiva development but a little bit more of a T rating here :)
He feels strangely bashful and shy when she touches his cheek. She is far more tender than he ever thought imaginable, and her skin is achingly soft. He wants to melt into her.
Wonders how she can be so beautiful after everything that's happened.
And she closes her eyes and pulls him closer again, murmuring incoherent words into his ear. Perhaps, in another language, they speak of love. To him, they speak of a subtle and hidden and screaming need.
Instead of kissing her where she lies, he picks her – gently, with hands covering bruises as light as feathers and with eyes trying to say something he can't quite word – and carries her to the bed in which they fell asleep in the same pool of moonlight a million times. He lies her down and has no regrets. He does not think of rules, of bosses, of stolen hungry glances across the bullpen when no one else is looking. He thinks of nothing but her proud and savage grace. And he speaks words so gently they quiver like raindrops.
"I'm going to make love to you," he whispers, as the familiar patter starts on the windows, "because it needs to be done."
They sleep through the sweetest night.
***
The next day is a Sunday, and they bathe in the steady glow of a beating sun until Abby calls, bleary and still half-drunk.
"Hey, Tony. Ziva there?"
"Um, sure. You wanna...wanna speak to her?"
"No, I was just wondering if you guys wanted to hang together today. I mean, I know we see enough of each other but I kinda miss – you know, the whole team, kinda, hmm?"
"Um ... I don't know. I'll, uh, ask her, but I don't think she's really feeling up to it yet." He watches the woman he adores as she sleeps peaceful and complete on his sleepy sheets.
"Oh ... that's cool, I guess. I mean, I'll still ask Timmy, if that's OK, but-" The familiar Tony feels a smirk inside him and he smiles the words. "Oh, McGee will be going, oh, that's a different matter, I can't miss Probie, can't ever get enough McGoo time-"
"Tony. Shut up." But he hears the black and smudgy grin on her lips and is suddenly filled with a warm and pulsing rush of love for the girl. Abby does not waste time talking on the phone, she does not dawdle and ask him how he's been. Her tone is heavy yet chirpy and reminds him of...some trace of...something that he can't quite paint.
He glances back at the dark hair and flushed cheeks and sweetly curled eyelids, and wants to kiss her. "OK, well, you guys have a nice day, I'll see you tomorrow."
Her voice calls out, plaintive and pretty, as he removes the phone from his skin. He cannot be quite sure, but it sounds a little like "You deserve her, Tony."
But it can't be, because she can't know.
Because he simply isn't.
The woman in his bed breathes and smiles.
***
They grow round each other like flowering weeds in the day and flames in the night. Something has broken, inside each of them, and all they want are lips and flickers and voices and promises and a burning lack inside them that is never quite filled. She is achingly lovely, and sometimes, a second or two, less, a mere glimmer of shining eyes and wanting mouth, he is terrified to look at her.
When they are raw and exhausted they lie, side by side, and talk. They joke and laugh and roll about on the floorboards and kiss clumsily and lustily and sweetly and strongly, and talk. Sometimes the words are solely and completely about them – times when he thought she meant something different, times when she was certain he wanted to kiss her – and sometimes they talk about others. How McGee and Abby seem so bluntly incompatible, yet the nights they spend together are frequent, and loving, and the worst kept secret of the bullpen. How Gibbs loves them all in his own bruised way and sometimes it feels more like hate.
How they miss Jenny. How they miss what could have been.
And sometimes – often – they talk of other things. With each word, the dust settles, and the sun shines through.
Beat beat beat goes her precious little heart, and his speaks only of her.
Hmmm. This was pretty much a filler, wanted to get some Abby-intuition in there somewhere but also wanted to show how the sex wasn't just sex, it's developed into something more. Internet's being an absolute whore again, so I'm posting as and when I can – so chapters are likely to be shorter and, once again, will appear erratically. Enjoy, and please review. I love them. :)