Rifiuto: Non Miriena

"Do you want me to stay?"

To be honest, at this point, she didn't know. A part of her wanted him to stay, a part of her didn't. A part of her wanted that American Dream, with the white wedding, the house, and the fence, the dog and the loving husband and kids. A part of her wanted a man to love her for the rest of her life, and yet, a part of her didn't, because she'd always been alone.

Ziva took a deep breath, and knocked firmly on his door. Moments passed, before it opened, and Tim's green eyes met hers. He gave her a quick, small smile, and stepped aside. They'd both stewed for the last two weeks since Tim had cornered her in the bathroom and asked her if she wanted him in her life, in the baby's life, if there was a baby. Private Marshal's murder was still being investigated, and their other cases reassigned to other teams. And in between trying to solve a murder, she and Tim were trying to have a baby. Which, according to Tony, was only complicating things further for both of them. But she wasn't about to give up. She wanted a baby, and she was going to have one, if it kiled her. At this point, it was looking like it would.

She entered the apartment, watching as he closed the door and turned to head into the kitchen. She followed, stopping him from pouring the wine that had become their nightly ritual after dinner. He met her gaze, and set the bottle down, taking her face in his hands and kissing her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back just as deeply.

He helped her out of her coat, leaving it where it fell, before walking her back towards the bedroom. As they stepped into the dark bedroom, he started to undo the buttons on her blouse, and then, as if changing his mind halfway through, pulled the blouse apart, causing buttons to fly everywhere. One hit Jethro in the rear end, sending the dog scurrying into the living room, tail between his legs. The bedroom door slammed closed and Ziva found herself against the hard wood as Tim worked on her neck and his hands slid over her small waist to work on her jeans.

Gaining some sense of the upper hand, she managed to pull his shirt over his head, even as he popped the button on her jeans and proceeded to slide them over her small, shapely hips. She kicked them aside and stepped out of her boots, her hands moving down to work on his own jeans, even as he pressed her harder against the wood, his lips moving over her soft skin.

Before either could break for air, they'd moved to the bed, stumbling over the discarded clothing and landing in a tangle of arms and legs. She wrapped her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair as he kissed her breasts, sliding the straps of her bra down her shoulders, revealing, inch by inch, the soft mounds of her breasts to his skilled tongue. She dragged one foot up the inside of his leg, groaning as he pressed into her.

And suddenly, Tim found himself on the bed, Ziva straddling his hips. The straps of her bra were down at her elbows, and he smiled softly as her chest heaved with each breath she took since they'd broken the kiss. His hands moved to her matching panties, slipping his fingers beneath the hem and playfully tugging them down. Her gaze flicked from his face to his fingers, and she grinned, leaning down to kiss him, giving him permission to tug the article of clothing from her body. At the same instant Tim had tossed the underwear to the floor, she'd removed his boxers, leaving him completely exposed beneath her. With quick, nimble hands, he had her bra removed and amongst the other articles of clothing as he sat up to capture her mouth.

With skills Casanova would be proud of, Tim flipped them over, until he had her pinned beneath him, his mouth working its way down her body. Her small hands caressed his back as he brought his mouth back to hers, and slowly, began to enter her. As they once again found their familiar rhythm, Ziva dug her nails into his back, moaning softly into the kiss as he continued to move deeper into her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, forcing him further inside her, and as he moved his kisses to her neck, she let out a cry, digging her nails further into the skin of his back as they moved closer to their breaking point.

Tim's words came rushing back to her. The old-fashioned way.

They'd been trying the old-fashioned way for weeks now, and had come up empty. The dinners, the makeouts, the plans, were all crumbling around her, and yet, she didn't care. Right now, she just wanted Tim, and it was obvious that he wanted her. They'd keep trying. Ziva'd have a baby- Tim's baby- if it was the last thing she did. She had a plan, to be a mother, and she was going to be.

Their gazes locked as they got closer and closer to breaking, and she kissed him deeply, her eyes open as their climax hit, overwhelming both. Tim had realized, not long after that first night, that Ziva kept her eyes open during orgasm; a flood of emotion passed through her eyes, and he found himself witness to an extraordinarily personal, beautiful gift. Her gaze met his, and they screamed for each other moments apart. She grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers and squeezing as their high released them, and she found herself accepting and returning soft, chaste kisses as their breathing returned to normal and the familiar, satisfied buzz began to work its way through their bodies.