Work Text:
He'd be able to write a darn good book after tonight's session. One of those self-learn books, with lots of neat but unintentionally amusing pictures. He even had the perfect title for it - "How to end up flat on your back in less than 60 seconds". Not the kind of book Anthony DiNozzo would ever be pressed to buy for a girl, of course, because about ninety-nine percent of them were highly unlikely to ever spar with a former Mossad operative.
When Ziva had asked him just after Christmas if he wanted to train with her, he'd shrugged and said, sure, why not. He and his former six-pack sure as hell were in need of a few good workouts. Unfortunately, that had been one of the times where his brain had gone elsewhere and left his mouth the keeper, and he hadn't realized just what he'd gotten himself into until it was too late. Working out with Ziva was anything but doing some weights and an hour on the stepper.
He groaned and stared at the ceiling, feeling wonky after she had slammed him to the floor... for the fourth time now, if his memory wasn't too far off. The room moved in slow spirals, and Ziva's throaty chuckle made him close his eyes for a second.
"I'm sorry, Tony," she said, and from the way her voice echoed, she had to be leaning over him. "I didn't know your footing is that weak."
"Like hell you didn't," he pressed through his teeth and opened his eyes to stare at her best mock angel face. Which was a mistake in itself because it distracted him too easily from his annoyance. Even sweaty, without makeup and cheeks reddened from the physical exercise, all she had to do was wink at him and he was panting at her feet. He grimaced at the quite accurate description of his current status.
"Are you getting up any time soon?" she asked now, her pouty lips doing strange things - most likely from trying not to grin at him too smugly while she stretched out a hand and offered to help him up again.
"Yeah. One sec," he said and groaned again while he worked on getting his breathing back under control. Not quite an epic failure yet, but close.
He thought about the cover design for his bestselling book, which strangely kept coming up in a garish, Bondesque, and slightly drug-induced Sixties style. Would even make a darn good mass-market movie title. Again, not the kind of movie you'd ever recommend to potential girlfriends, although for a whole different set of reasons.
"Now I'm done gasping for air," he announced, and when that made her grin openly at him, he took her hand and pulled hard while he kicked her legs out from under her. Being heavier worked in his favor for once, and she couldn't help losing her balance and going down this time. She did land a lot more gracefully than he had, taking the fall easily and rolling it out over her shoulder. Lost a bit of that grace though when Tony got in a good slap to her backside before she skidded to the side.
"That was low," she commented, and it was more than gratifying to hear that finally she was slightly out of breath, too.
He propped himself up on one elbow, watching her with an ear-splitting grin. "'Whatever works', sweetcheeks", he snickered, and she glared at him for using the unloved nickname. "Wasn't that what you told me just half an hour ago?"
"And when exactly did you start taking my advice?" she shot back. Her brows drew together in a frown, and that alone distracted Tony pretty good, like every time she went all serious business on him. "Don't you think it is time you finally got over that asphyxiation problem of yours?"
"My what?" He watched her get up to her feet again, blinking slowly and trying to make sense of her question. Which, being an average DiNozzo male, turned into a leer soon enough. "So far, I breathe just fine, but hey, if you want to smother me during an intimate moment... no, wait, that's not something I'm actually into. But I'm not averse to intimate moments per se, just so you know. Not at all," he added, trying to look as helpful as he could.
She turned around, face baffled and one eyebrow shooting up high. "You're doing it again," she finally commented, and her hand did a little irritated wriggle while she was searching for the right phrase. "The... the babbling nonsense thing."
He settled more comfortably onto the mat, now using both of his elbows, looking up at her. "Well, I'm not the one starting it with the asphyxiation, which, in most situations commonly used, carries a lot of erotic connotations..."
"Well, yes, most healthy men would consider staring at well-formed butts to carry erotic connotations, of course. You, however, take that to a whole new..."
"Ass fixation," he interrupted her, suddenly getting it. "Asphyxiation is having trouble breathing, in most cases either self-induced or due to sexually motivated games of dominance and submission. Ass fixation has nothing to do with it, except if said butts are the instrument of breathing control used, and by the way, I do NOT have an ass fixation."
"Right." Her smile was more than smug this time, and her gaze went up and down his body slowly, invading his privacy and making him edgy with just a single glance. Then she turned around, laughing and prancing to the edge of the training mat, her cute little behind bouncing in sweat pants that seemed too tight to be Navy standard issue. She bent over and went for her towel and the bottle of water she had left there, taking all the time in the world and even checking the lacing of her shoes while she was giving him a spectacular sight on purpose.
And yes, of course Tony knew it was a trap, but he couldn't help it. He did stare, and he did check her out, and his mouth went a little dry while his pulse went a little up.
She took her time wiping the sweat off her face and picking up the bottle. When she finally came sashaying back and stepped over him, squatting down until she almost sat on his lap, he was already halfway ready to go, and damn, talk about embarrassing.
"You were saying...?" she murmured and offered him the uncapped bottle, smiling ever so slightly, and god, how he wanted to fuck that smile right off of her face now.
He shook his head and pushed himself up from his elbows until she was so close he could feel her breath on his face. She was playing the territory game again, right here, in his face and on his lap. But this time, he wouldn't let her win the pissing contest.
He bent his knee and raised his leg casually, his thigh touching the back of hers while she still squatted across his lap, and that made the position all the more intimate. "The only thing that comes to mind is, I want to be inside you so bad right now," he murmured, leaning just that tiny bit closer until their lips almost brushed.
Her pupils widened and there was something else going on all of a sudden. He'd have missed it if he hadn't been staring directly into her baby browns the whole time. Holy Mother of all things Navy, she was actually thinking about it.
"You couldn't handle that," she finally said and got back to her feet with a slight smile. And just like that, her mask fell back in place, and he wondered what else he had missed during the last four years.
He was intrigued, and amused, and heck, yes, he was aroused, too. Maybe that was the main reason why he didn't drop it this time but pushed the issue instead.
"I couldn't handle it?" He laughed while he got to his feet and went over to where she leaned against the wall, watching him and taking slow sips from her bottle. He leaned into her, one hand pressed against the wall beside her head, taking the bottle from her hand and drinking. When he handed it back to her, she turned her head to meet his eyes, and that was when he leaned that one inch closer that changed the distance from buddy to intimate. "Aren't you a little full of yourself today, Agent David...?"
He felt her smile more than he saw it. "You have no idea what you'd be getting yourself into, my Very Special Agent." Her hair brushed against his cheek and he took a deep breath. The smell of freshly cut flowers.
"As have you, my dear Probie," he replied softly.
"True," she said with a cocky little smile, not even flinching at his choice of term this time. "Although I might have a better understanding of my opponent than you do."
"What makes you so sure of that?" he asked, and before she could give him one of her snarky remarks, he drew back a bit and met her curious stare again, not with his regular Prince Charming expression, but with the one that was Tony in focus, totally concentrating on what was about to happen. And the fact that they were even standing here debating this meant that most likely something - anything - was about to happen.
There it was again then, that little flicker of something going on inside her head, something he'd have missed if he hadn't watched her this closely. He leaned into her a little more and couldn't help thinking that thank god, the gym was almost empty around this time. "Don't tell me in all those years you have never once thought about it."
She laughed then, a short bark of amusement. "Only in the context of all the things that can be had at the snap of my fingers," she replied, her lips brushing his now ever so slightly, smiling.
Her smile faltered for just a heartbeat though when she met his eyes. Too close for comfort now, and fuck, yes, she was thinking about it right now, that much was sure. After agonizing seconds she turned her head, took another swig and licked her lips, then moved away to pack up her gear.
He laughed, a soft sound deep in his throat. Followed her, moved closer until he was at her back, not quite touching her yet, but almost lined up to her stance, making sure she felt his presence right down to her toes. When he leaned over her shoulder, he felt her movements still, and for a second he wasn't sure if she would go with her instincts and toss him to the ground a fifth time now. She didn't, just waited for what he was about to do, and so he rested his chin close to her ear, lips moving softly against her earlobe while he whispered just one word.
"Chicken."
She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder, frowning. And just like that she let go of the bottle, gave his chest a push that knocked the breath out of him and sent him to the mat again. Just this time, she followed up and sat down on his chest hard, pinning him down with knees to both sides of his head.
"What would you suggest then, Tony?" she hissed, trying to keep it low despite the obvious annoyance boiling. Her cheeks were bright red now, and he wasn't sure if it was from anger, embarrassment or something else. "An extension of this sparring session, only in the bedroom? Thirty minutes, whoever orgasms loses the game?"
Oh, his mind knew all too well she was just being snarky. His body though, distracted by having her crotch right there in his face, screamed at him to just get it over with and take her up on that offer. And in the end, he lost the fight that hadn't been fair in the first place. He raised his head, his tongue flicked across that delicate spot barely hidden underneath her sweatpants, and gotcha. She had not been expecting that.
He felt her body jerk in surprise, and a tiny yelp came out of her mouth. His arms went up in the same instant, hooked around her waist from behind, and within two heartbeats, he had her rolled off his chest and it was her flat on her back for the first time this evening, gasping under his weight. Her eyes widened a bit as she felt him pressed up to her like that all of a sudden, all willing and eager, and when she squirmed against him, she made it worse. He did allow himself a small smile then, because no, he was definitely not imagining that sudden rush of heat.
"Loser comes," he agreed, very quietly so no one except her would hear. His lips brushed her cheek, and it made her tense up ever so slightly. "But no time limit."
"A little pretentious, aren't we?" she whispered back heatedly, her fingers flexing against his abs.
"That's for you to find out, it would seem."
Her hands fell away from his chest and she stared at him, brows drawn tight into a deep frown. "What is this, Tony?"
Damn. She had to use the one question that made it hard for him to answer. "I'm not sure," he finally said. He sighed and brushed his thumb against the back of her hand. "Maybe just my juvenile way of trying to get you out of my system."
Her frown relaxed a bit at that, thoughts chasing themselves behind her eyes, and even though this was the part where he was supposed to back off and give her some space, he found himself still watching her intently.
And suddenly, she nodded sharply, just once. "Extension of the match. One round settles it, no repeat performances." She took a deep breath as she felt his body's sudden and eager response, and if he hadn't seen her own reaction to that, he would have felt like apologizing. "Shower first, though."
He raised an eyebrow, and she laughed at that, giving him a look that was... interesting, to put it mildly. His pulse began to beat even faster, and maybe a long, cold shower wasn't such a bad idea after all.
*** *** ***
He'd been looking forward to seeing her new apartment, but in the end, he couldn't even remember the color of her couch. Yes, it was fucking embarrassing, but he was too busy staring at her back as she led him to the bedroom, and with each step, thinking got harder.
Thinking. Sure.
His slacks were as tight as they could get by now, and part of him kept expecting him to wake up any minute now, like he always did before his inappropriate and very hot dreams about his partner could lead anywhere satisfying.
It turned out there was no need to worry about this. Ziva's look as she closed the bedroom door behind them was enough to make his arousal almost painful for a second. And just like that, she reached for him and kissed him, hard.
Tony moved with her, groaning into her mouth because yes, this was better than he could have imagined, and way better than he remembered. Not because his memory played tricks on him but because this was Ziva not just acting her part, and holy crap, if that was already the difference between her kisses back then and now, what else did she have in store for him?
She drew back then and started to unbutton his shirt, and that gave him a minute to catch his breath. He watched her staring at his chest while she struggled with the buttons, and she seemed so tensely in concentration now that it made him frown.
"Ziva." She raised her chin and looked at him, and the carefully guarded expression she wore made him cup her hands on his chest with his own. "Last chance to call this off."
Her eyes narrowed, and something was going on inside her head again, but Tony was too distracted by the tip of her index finger moving in slow circles on his chest to concentrate on reading her face. He took a deep breath, ready to step back and give both of them some room to think about this, but she kept her grip on his halfway unbuttoned shirt, and so he had to stick closer than was most likely good for both of them.
"That would... make me a... chicken," she finally replied, very cautiously, eyes flicking up and down while she still had a gazillion thoughts running lose behind those pretty eyes of hers.
Tony sighed at her answer. For once, he would have liked it better if he'd read her wrong. "I'd never hold that against you," he murmured, trying to get his wayward libido to back down and leave him some room to think reasonably.
"Oh yes, you would," Ziva laughed then, and her voice was so low and velvety, it seemed to brush against his skin in lots of inappropriate places. And her mouth quirked up in a smile that was nothing but pure provocation. Her hands gripped his shirt tight, and with a quick jerk she ripped it apart, buttons flying while she leaned forward and gave a long lick across his chest. It made him groan, and just like that, snap of her fingers, the tension was back. "I do not chicken," she informed him, voice hoarse, looking up at him while her fingernails left reddish trails down his sides as she went for his belt agonizingly slow.
"Duly noted," he gasped, pulling her closer. He kissed her again, hard, messy, and it quickly got out of control, with him backing her up against the bedroom door, her hands digging into his shoulders, grabbing his hair, her body riding up against him. He grabbed her ass, pressed his thigh between hers until it felt like she was melting into him. The sensation was almost too much, and it made his head spin and his cock ache and...
Her thumb finding the sensitive nerve spot at the base of his neck and pressing it, just once, to get his attention, cleared his head in a heartbeat, and he froze, still holding her, still pressing her up against the doorframe. Slowly, he turned his head and found her looking at him, face flushed, breath coming hard. Not the common expression of second thoughts exactly, so what was wrong now?
"Feet on the ground, DiNozzo, or you lose a limb," she said quietly, blinking slowly.
Control freakishness getting the better of her, right. He laughed and let her slide down until she was standing on her own feet again, but kept his thigh were it was, taking care to let her feel every inch of where their bodies touched.
"Okay. Just for the record," he murmured. When she raised an eyebrow and kept her thumb on his neck, he finally took a step back, but didn't leave her personal space entirely. "You might have misunderstood the true objective of this little exercise, Zi-vah," he said, drawing her name out playfully. "This isn't about who's top dog. We both know you are." That actually made her grin. Her hand relaxed and slid down to his chest, and he leaned back into her. "This is supposed to be about letting your defenses down as far as they will go and still coming out on top..." He saw her roll her eyes, grinned and added "... metaphorically speaking, of course..."
"Of course."
"Can you do that?"
She met his gaze then, her expression somewhere between grim and puzzled while she seemed to think about his words. That got him good, and he was so busy taking in the raw heat that showed underneath the barely controlled anger now that he didn't spare a glance for her hands on her own shirt. When he finally did notice she was undressing, she was already standing in front of him with her blouse unbuttoned and spread open, fingers hooked behind the waistband of her pants.
"Do your worst then," she pressed through gritted teeth, chin rising up defiantly.
His eyes journeyed over her body, taking in the lovely sight she presented him, and damn, even the no-nonsense white bra without any frills or laces got him all hot and bothered again in a heartbeat. He leaned into her, his lips brushing her cheek. "Hardly my worst, dear," he murmured, and she shuddered against him as he moved his hands ever so slowly, his thumbs stroking down her bare sides, reaching her belt eventually.
"Now then. There is this one thing," he breathed against her neck, "that I've been dying to do ever since I saw you in that skimpy bikini..."
"It was... hardly spectacular enough to leave such a lasting impression..." Her voice trailed off as he opened her pants with short, precise movements, pushing them down just enough to reveal white, tight panties that matched the bra.
"Mhm." Talking seemed like such hard work all of a sudden, so he just slid down to his knees, keeping his hands on her hips, fingers spread out across her skin. His thumbs stroked her belly and moved deeper gradually, first just brushing the top of her panties, then sliding inside, finding more smooth skin. Shaved Ziva. Naughty. He raised his head to see her watching him, lips slightly parted, tongue flicking out. "Not the bikini, no," he said and kissed the soft skin just above the edge of her panties.
He felt her shudder, and as he moved his lips across her skin, her breathing quickened and he felt her squirm, trying to move with him. His hands kept her steady though while his thumbs pushed the edge of her panties down gradually. His lips followed the path he exposed, touching her skin ever so softly, his tongue flicking out every now and then, tasting her. And when his thumb finally slid between her thighs, teasing, touching, she drew in a sharp breath and her hand dug hard into his shoulder all of a sudden.
"Back off, Tony!" she gasped, almost doubling over.
He swallowed hard, resting his forehead briefly against her belly. Felt her muscles flutter in excitement. Wanted to taste her so bad right now. "Can you... ask for something less difficult?" he finally managed to get out, feeling her heat like a living thing against his skin.
Her hand relaxed at that, sliding to the back of his head and moving through his hair. "Back off," she murmured softly, "and lose some clothes."
Oh. Right. That was easier. In theory.
He pressed his lips to her soft skin once more and then got back to his feet, carefully moving backwards to where he knew her bed was, not letting her out of his sight while he lost his shoes and pants.
She copied his movements, removing her own clothes in sync with him. She slid out of her own pants more easily than he had managed, but her gaze was sticking to him just like he was watching her move, and yes, he could tell that she liked what she saw.
Her gaze left his face, slid down his shoulders and chest, then came to rest lower. "That looks... uncomfortable..." she remarked wryly, nodding at him. Sucked at her lower lip, distracted for a second.
"Does it now?" he grinned, glancing down at his eager cock. When she didn't reply, just continued to look at him, he reached down, taking himself into his hand and stroking slowly. "Mhm. Doesn't feel uncomfortable." He sat down on the edge of her bed, leaning back, and she followed him and came over until her knees touched his thigh.
"Really?" The soft chuckle in her voice sent an anticipatory shiver down his spine. "Let me have a closer look then," she breathed, and while his mind stumbled over all the possibilities that statement offered, she simply spread her legs and climbed onto his lap, her right hand sliding over his own.
He took in a sharp breath, but let her take over the movement without a second's hesitation while his hands went to her hips and he drew her closer.
"You're right," she hissed, stroking him slowly, and her breath came in short, quick gasps by now, too. "Doesn't feel uncomfortable at all..."
He groaned. Dirty talk. Fucking brilliant. With this sort of thing going on, he'd barely last through two minutes of foreplay...
Tony bit his lip and watched her own lips part as she wrapped one arm around his neck and rose to her knees, still holding him tightly and already pushing him to where he wanted to be so badly. And no, there wouldn't be much of foreplay, it seemed. She was so hot and wet around him already that it made his vision blur for a moment, and he grabbed her ass, tried to pull her that last bit closer. There was the tiniest bit of resistance in her stance, and he shuddered, mouth pressed against the curve of her neck.
"What?" he pressed through gritted teeth, not managing anything more intelligible. His mind started to run in panicked circles, screaming against the insides of his skull. Pleasedonthavesecondthoughtsnowohgodpleasedont...
"Nothing," she replied, her voice just as tightly drawn as his. The muscles in her thighs began to tremble, and his cock twitched in reaction. "You are just... bigger than I expected..."
He laughed, a short bark, rich with lust and frustration, and he buried his face deeper into her neck, trying to mask the effort it took to not just push her down and bury himself into her as deeply as possible. "Thanks... I guess...?"
And then a few of his brain cells came back online and he noticed just what she had said. His head shot up and his mouth widened into what Kate had used to call his sleazy grin.
"You 'expected'?" She glared at him angrily, brows drawing together at his obvious glee. "So you WERE think---"
And that was all he got out because she leaned forward then and kissed him hard to shut him up, oh so effectively. And while he was still reeling from that, he felt her breathe out and relax in his arms, and she slid down on him, just like that, and god, yes. So that's what it was like.
His head spun, exploding with tastes and touches, overwhelming his senses. He kissed her back hard, buried himself into her mouth, into her body, grabbed her ass and helped her move faster.
Screw the match. Screw it, really, because all the satisfaction he ever needed was happening RIGHT now, and just how it was supposed to be, and god, this woman was a treat. If he ever needed to pick a way to end his life, this was the way to go, with Ziva in his arms, and why again hadn't they done this sooner?
She moved harder against him, seemed to know just how she had to twist to get the most out of the movement, and he couldn't help but groan helplessly at the heat it made rise in him. And of course, she noticed that, too, and a small smirk made the corners of her mouth curl up. Her gaze slid over his chest, restless while she worked him hard... touching his body again and again, licking, sucking, tasting him. So hot. Really enjoying him, but rarely meeting his eyes.
It felt strange, to say the least, when all of a sudden Tony realized that this wasn't as personal for her as he had thought it might be.
His mind, easily distracted, flashed back on a dozen different moments where she had shown him how well she spoke the male body language. From day one, she'd never had a problem with touching him, had always managed to play him with just a little inappropriate touch at the right moment, with a wink of her eye or a twist of her hip. Her concept of personal space varied so greatly from that of the typical American female, and yet he had never stopped to think that it might be because she had grown up as a soldier, someone who would use whatever advantage came to mind. As one of the boys. And the boys knew damn well how to just fuck for pleasure.
His arms came up before he had even finished the thought, one wrapping around her waist, the other going around her back, hand clamping down on her shoulder hard, both stilling her movement effectively and breaking her concentration.
"Ziva," he murmured, and her head whipped up, eyes wide all of a sudden. She tried to fall back into her easy rhythm but he wouldn't let her, kept his arms tight around her while she struggled with her trained reflexes that were most likely urging her now to just hurt him to get out of the sudden trap.
It took a few heartbeats until she settled down, and when she did, she was suddenly very still against him. He loosened the grip on her shoulder and raised the hand to her heated face instead, touching her cheek until she was listening.
And a dozen things to say ran through his mind, all of them not right, and so he found himself opening his mouth and closing it again while Ziva watched his face, a frown drawing her brows together and her sweet body tensing up against his.
"You gonna continue with this strategy, Agent David?" he finally asked quietly and was surprised by how flat his own voice sounded.
Her eyes widened and he felt her pulse speed up against his fingertips. Busted.
The silence stretched between them, and the longer it grew, the more his body ached to just screw the ego thing and plunge back deeper into her. Because that's what this whole thing had been about after all, right?
"I'm... not sure what you..." she finally replied softly, her eyes flicking to his shoulder, and he knew then that she had gotten his meaning perfectly.
"You want me to spell this out?" he pressed through gritted teeth, feeling the first pangs of a nasty anger rise in his gut. "Fine." He leaned forward until his face was almost touching hers, and since his hand was still cupping her cheek, she had no choice this time but to meet his eyes. "I would prefer to not just fuck your body."
He felt the rush of heat to her cheeks long before they actually turned pink, and for a second, he felt childishly satisfied at that. Then she blinked and shook her head.
"This is rich," she chuckled, and his stomach plummeted. "You of all people prefer to have sex with an emotional attachment?"
'Only with you,' he was tempted to say, but the words refused to cross his lips, and he swallowed hard. He'll be damned if he handed her spare ammo for the already smoking gun.
"You know, I think this may have been one of my less brilliant ideas," he finally said, grabbing her waist.
"Hey!" she yelped indignantly as he pushed her off his lap and to her feet. "HEY!"
"In fact, it was one of the Really Dumb Ideas, so you better pack up that cute little behind of yours and go home before this gets..."
"Tony," she interrupted him, her voice a strange mixture of amusement and baffled curiosity. "This is my apartment."
"Right. Right." He raised a hand to rub his suddenly tired eyes, and the muscles in his jaw clenched up tight. "So I'll be the one packing up then."
His pants went back on faster than they had gone down because this was not good, not good at all, and the sooner he was out of here, the sooner he could smack his fist into a wall. He bent down to pick up his shirt, frowning at the missing buttons, but not inclined to stop and look for them now.
"Tony!"
Her voice sounded strange, and when he turned to look at her, she was watching him, looking so lost all of a sudden that it made him wonder how they had gotten to this point. He waited patiently while Ziva tried to say something, but it seemed that just like him a few moments earlier, she had trouble finding the words that didn't feel all wrong.
"What just happened?" she finally asked, confused. Naked, lovely, wisp of a girl with the most beautiful breasts, hair all messed up and lips swollen from kissing him.
He sighed, rubbing his eyes again. "I have no idea."
She nodded, slowly, still at a loss for words, and fuck his pride, it needed to be asked aloud.
"Do you want me to go?"
Her face showed a rollercoaster of emotions then, all of them strong, none strong enough to win. She met his eyes and looked away again, once, twice. Shook her head eventually, her shoulders stiff, hands balled into fists. "No," she whispered, looking as if razorblades had just grazed her lips.
He couldn't help it then. That one word brought him back to her like he was being pulled on strings, and he couldn't say anything, just wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. And she surrendered then, falling into his embrace, arms coming up around his waist while he pressed his face into her hair and drank in her scent.
He learned a lot about Ziva David during the next hours. He learned that she liked to lick his lips and suck on his neck, and that she managed to do this without leaving any traces. That there was a good deal of laughter involved when Ziva made love. That the back of her neck was a highly rewarding spot for both of them. That she did like to be on top, but sometimes she liked it even better when he pressed her down into the sheets, when he grabbed her hair and pulled her head back and bit her neck, even though he wasn't as good at not leaving any marks, and god, yes, he did learn that he almost lost it every time she dug her fingernails hard into his back or thigh. Thankfully, she only did that when she was really distracted herself, so she never noticed the effect it had on him.
He also learned that, contrary to her teasing statements that had enriched his fantasy life quite a bit over the years, the soldier she'd been trained to be rarely made a sound, not even in the most intimate moments. Just a little gasp every now and then, so soft, so hot, so intriguing that it managed to snap him out of his own lust every time, made him want to hear it again and again. And so he started paying attention. Learned to read her body. All the little shivers, the ticklish spots, and the minute reactions. What made her close her eyes and throw her head back and bite her lip. Learned what he needed to do to make her gasp in that way that drove him nuts. And eventually, much to his own surprise, he learned what made her come.
His own body tensed when she started to lose control, screamed at him to go for it himself, and this was the moment where he would have, usually. But this time, he just couldn't stop watching her, with her eyelids fluttering like panicked butterflies, her lips parting, her soft mouth making even softer sounds. He soaked it all up, drank it in, just couldn't get enough of her shaking and trembling and even the hand digging into his arm so hard it hurt.
He held her long after her body had quieted, still busy taking in the turmoil in her features. Memorizing this, all of this, because, idiot that he was, he'd stick to their agreement, of course, and never go there again.
When she eventually opened her eyes to look at him, she stared at him with something close to shock. "I... lost," she finally murmured.
He raised his left hand, touching her surprised face and weaving his fingers into her hair, his thumb stroking her cheekbone absentmindedly. "Yeah," he replied just as quietly, and then he leaned forward, touching his lips to the side of her mouth softly, almost managing to disguise it as a brotherly peck on the cheek. "But I have never seen it happen with that much grace."
He felt her tense up in his arms, and he knew she was close to pushing him away. So he remained very, very still, just resting his head lightly against hers, fingers wrapped into her hair. And then, for the briefest of moments, he felt her relax against his chest.
And he smiled and said, "You owe me a shirt." Which made her laugh.
*** *** ***
"... but when you take a closer look at the angle, it's all wrong. There is no way a left-handed person could leave a mark on this place exactly like that!" Abby stated excitedly, and Tony could see her bouncing with barely contained energy.
"So someone planted it there?" Ziva's voice at his side, too close for comfort, and bam, there went his concentration again. She did that to him so easily lately. "He was framed!"
"OR he was trying to make it look like he was framed," Tony replied, squinting at the image up on the plasma because that was all he had to help him stay focused right now. "If someone had planted the mark after the explosion, which is the only timing that makes sense, it would not have been covered by debris, right?"
"And the Very Special Agent gets five bonus points!" Abby grinned and raised her hand.
Tony gave her a high five, then turned back to the plasma in one smooth move and punched his fist to Ziva's shoulder. "Hee. Loser."
It was rare to have a room falling this quiet so fast without Gibbs being involved in it, and he grimaced. Bad, bad, bad idea, and yes, she was gonna slap him silly any minute now. Like, now.
Except that she didn't.
That made Tony turn around eventually, shoulders hunched and ready to jump at the slightest movement. He saw Ziva standing very straight beside him, chin up high, staring at the screen intently and being very busy with not meeting his eyes. He tried for an apologetic smile, and even though she only saw it out of the corner of her eye, it made her cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink.
The silence stretched, until he heard Abby murmur "Did... he just...?"
"Yeah. And she didn't..." came McGee's equally stunned reply.
"Why is he still alive, McGee?"
"Because he's right, and can we please get back to the case now, Abby?" Ziva hissed then, still keeping her gaze fixed on the screen. Her hands tightened into fists, and Tony had to suppress the urge to take a step back, just in case.
Abby and McGee continued to stare at them open-mouthed, and so Ziva finally added, "He... was probably referring to a... a... sparring match we had, which ended rather..."
Her words made him flinch once more. They also made lots of random images of that night come back, and he took a deep breath and tried to concentrate. 'Pissed off Ziva, remember, DiNozzo? Get your priorities straight.' He fumbled for a phrase that would leave both their bases covered but before he could think of anything remotely apology-like, Abby un-froze and stormed forward.
"Ooh!" she cried out, grabbing Ziva by the shoulders and spinning her around. Then her brows drew together until she stared at her friend in best Sciuto interrogation mode. "Spill it. What sort of dirty tricks did he use on you?"
Ziva's eyes widened in confusion and surprise, and her cheeks turned an even darker shade of pink. "Uhm. None, actually." She glanced at him, and he tried his best to keep his own face blank.
Abby's eyebrows shot up in disbelief, and McGee wasn't far behind, it seemed. His expression made the sudden urge rise in Tony to just slink out of the lab unnoticed and hide somewhere in a, say, storage locker until this whole discussion was over.
"We're talking about Tony here, Ziva," Abby said gravely, hands still on Ziva's shoulders. "He doesn't come without trickery."
"Gee, thanks, Abby..."
"It's true."
"Well..." Ziva looked at him again, forehead creased in thought, her expression the tiniest bit wistful for a second. Then she shook her head. "Not this time, Abby. I simply let my guard down at an inappropriate moment."
"Ah. Well, then you be sure to use some really dirty ones on him next time!" Abby said, patting Ziva's shoulder encouragingly and turning back to her equipment.
"Next time?" They both echoed Abby's words perfectly, and it made them glance at each other and then back at the lab goth.
"Hellooo? Return match, never heard of that?" Abby rolled her eyes at their stupefied expressions. "Och! You guys have no idea about how to conduct a proper duel!"
Ziva's look turned very thoughtful all of a sudden, and bam, she'd done it again. All higher brain functions gone, just like that. Snap of her fingers. Tony held her gaze, his mouth very dry all of a sudden, and even surrounded by chirping, cold, and highly un-erotic lab equipment, all he could think of now was Ziva coming in his arms.
"Hey, anytime she's up for that," he heard himself say, raising his hands. He winced at his own words and tried to get his face back under control, but there was no chance in hell to manage that, because she looked at him now and dammit, he could see what was going on behind her eyes right now, oh yes.
And then one corner of her mouth quirked up ever so slightly. "Thank you, Abby. You may have given me something to work with here."
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