A/N: Welcome! Enjoy a series of one-shot, unrelated drabble fics about kisses, hugs and other moments of tenderness between our favourite NCIS team members (I haven't watched enough of the new crew to get a feel for them yet.) Some will be romantic, others platonic, and hopefully a couple (if my muse plays nice) just plain awkward.
Pairing/Setting: Tiva - seasons 3 to 11, specific reference to 03x08 Under Covers, 08x05 Dead Air, and 11x02 Past, Present Future (as retconned in S13) The middle scream is entirely fictional.
Three times Tony made Ziva scream his name and the one time he didn't.
Scream - A Tiva One-Shot
The first time Tony ever made Ziva scream his name, it wasn't his name at all. They were still naked (more or less) sweaty and tangled in sheets, but they were also undercover and faking it with a display that would have been worthy of an Oscar. It definitely wasn't his knee, but it was also definitely not anywhere that would have crossed a line. The FBI agents running surveillance had been thoroughly convinced, and McGee had given them side-eye for weeks, silently wondering but never actually being brave enough to ask the question.
The next time it was actually his name, but they weren't naked. In fact, he hardly touched her. She'd been uncomfortable with the dusty, cobwebby cabin they'd been investigating all day, she hadn't said as much, but he'd definitely noticed the way she'd cringed whenever she inadvertently made contact with the long sticky strands that hung on almost every available surface. In hindsight, sneaking up behind her when they were finally back in the squad room and running a finger down the back of her neck was probably not the kindest or smartest thing he'd done; the resulting shriek and the angry lash of his name flashed him back to Kate for a split second, but the punch to the shoulder and detailed threat to his life involving a piece of office stationery that followed was all Ziva.
The third time, it was more of a shout than a scream, and technically he didn't make her, but there was at least (clothed) full body contact. The full force of her weight slammed into him, throwing him to the ground in a last ditch effort to protect him, as the propane tanks and hidden explosives went up just a few yards behind them. That time it had been his knee, but he wasn't going to complain about the situation either, after all, it had only been the previous day that he'd been bemoaning (mostly to make McGee uncomfortable) about how much he missed 'classic' Ziva, the recklessness, the wild hair, the sexuality. She didn't seem to mind being pressed up against him like that either if that flirty little smile she wore was anything to go by, maybe she remembered Jean-Paul too.
But when it came to an Israel farewell, naked (completely this time) and sweaty and tangled in bedsheets that were every bit as luxurious as she'd implied when she'd gifted a set to Jimmy and Breena, the stark white providing the perfect blank canvas for her rich colouring; she hardly made a sound. It was real this time, and mind-blowingly good at that, he was certain he would remember that night on his deathbed. They shared kisses that made him feel like for every piece of his soul he'd given her, he'd taken one of hers in return, they tasted and touched, and nothing was off limits. He traced every curve of her body, from the elegant ridge of her collar bones to the tantalising dimples in her lower back and learned what it felt like to tangle his fingers in her curls. She in turn mapped him out just as thoroughly, finding old scars to heal them with her lips, scratching her nails softly through the beard he'd developed in his search for her, exploring his sweet spots and finding ones he didn't even know he'd liked, every hint she'd ever dropped that she absolutely knew what she was doing in this department being proven true. He'd returned the favour thoroughly, and watched as she unravelled completely more than once, her back arching upward, or her hips grinding down (she really did prefer it on top), her body clenching and fluttering around him with her release. There were linked fingers and twined legs, the taste of salt on her lips, mostly sweat but also the occasional tear, there were gasps, and moans, and breathy sighs, and once his name chanted end to end almost like a prayer, but not a single scream. It wasn't till she found his gaze and held it as they'd both found a peak and crashed over the edge simultaneously, the emotional connection only serving to heighten the physical sensation that he understood; Ziva may have been a screamer when she had sex, but she was almost silent when she made love.
A/N: No, I don't think they slept together in Under Covers. There are too many hints after the fact that they didn't, I absolutely believe they both know what the other is "packing" so to speak, but they didn't actually do anything more than some very convincing push ups.