Today's prompt: fruit - peach; requested by donutsdebsdibs inspired by one of MW's tweets.

Tiva, dripping with innuendo and sexual tension (at least, that was the intention)


From the corner of her eye she sees him reach for one of the peaches he had brought with him that morning. McGee had told him he should have brought apples if he wanted to be the teacher's pet, Tony had rambled on about going on a health kick to create a lean, mean "Sex Machine 2.0″. She huffs silently remembering the ridiculous conversation.

He leans back in his chair, holding the peach, rolling it around in his hand as if examining it. She narrows her eyes when he brings it up to his mouth. That is not good, he will ruin his shirt.

He takes a bite, realizes his mistake as a few drops of juice drip down his chin. Swiping at them with his other hand, he leans forward over his desk, and takes another bite, slurping as peach juice flows from his chin freely. He cusses, tries to lick some of it up with his tongue.

Her eyes widen, and she sits up straighter. He takes a smaller bite, makes another slurping sound and moans, sending a wave of heat down her body. That is not good at all, he is going to ruin my panties. She bites the tip of her thumb as he licks juice running down the side of his hand

"Tony!" She barks, not even sure why, other than needing to distract herself.

He startles, makes an even bigger mess, and tries to stem the flow from his chin by swiping it with his fingers, then licking the juice off of them.

She clenches her thighs together. This is even worse, why did he have to mention his nickname was "Sex Machine" earlier?

He is staring at her now, expecting her to do or say something. Annoyed with herself for drawing his attention—he had gotten better at reading her the past few months and she hated it—she walks up to him and leans in close.

"Has nobody taught you how to eat a peach?"

He looks up at her, eyes blissfully unaware of what he is doing to her. She wants nothing more than to lick the juice from his lips, his chin, to push that mouth between her legs and hear him make those sounds... A single drop making its way down his jaw line distracts her, she licks her lips and bites down on her bottom lip.

"You are making a mess." It was true, of course; there was peach juice on his shirt, and all over the file on his desk. That isn't the mess that worries her, though.

He tilts his head, his eyes darken as realization obviously hits him, and he licks his lips again. That just messes her up even more.

"But it's so wet and juicy," he says in a low voice. He holds the peach in between them, locks eyes with her—eyes dripping with stories of how he got his nickname—and he continues, "And I like it messy."

Backing down is not in her nature, and everything about this situation is too sweet, too…juicy, to walk away from. She reaches for the drop that had made it down to his neck, sweeps it up, then sucks her thumb clean.

His eyes flow over with desire, and he puffs out a breath that caresses her face, making all her nerve endings sing and beg for more. He takes another bite, eyes never leaving hers. She thinks he is exaggerating the slurping noises, the licking, the moaning, but her senses are so on edge she cannot be certain.

He switches the half-eaten fruit to his other hand, and licks every strong, slender finger one by one. She recalls how she wished those fingers would stray between her legs when they were undercover a few months ago. The urge to still his hand and close her lips around those fingers is overwhelming, and she realizes just in time that they are, in fact, still in the bullpen.

A thrill runs through her, and she places her hands on the armrests of his chair, closing what little distance was left between them.

"Someone should teach you how to eat peaches properly." Her voice is honeyed, and his eyes sparkle as he nods imperceptibly.

"I have a lot more peaches at home." He bites his bottom lip. "Maybe you could show me the right way to eat—" his gaze drifts to her lips, then down the gaping collar of her shirt, "—peaches."

She grins as her eyes drift to his lips. Oh, she would show him things that would make his "Sex Machine" alter ego blush.

The ding of the elevator precedes the return of Gibbs and McGee. Gibbs stops in front of Tony's desk. "What's going on here?"

"Nothing," Ziva replied.

"Everything's peachy, Boss."

Gibbs' stare prompted a further explanation, and Tony turned back to her.

"Ziva had some complaints about how I eat a peach."

He's looking straight at her when he says it, sending another rush of heat straight down to her core. Gibbs may have a rule about dating coworkers, but he has said nothing about having sex with them. "I was going to teach him a lesson," she says sweetly, and she can tell Tony is trying hard not to grin like an idiot.

Gibbs picks up the peach stained file form Tony's desk, and doesn't bother looking at her as he orders, "Back to your desk."

She stands up straight, already regretting the distance between her and Tony. He smirks and takes another bite, this time with considerably more manners. She slaps his cheek playfully and winks, before sauntering to her desk. This is far from over.

"Do it again, DiNozzo," Gibbs says as he throws the smudged file at him.

"Love to, Boss," he replies as he locks eyes with Ziva once more.

"The file, DiNozzo!"