Unraveling by Mooncombo

Rated M

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Takes place between Broken Arrow and Enemies Foreign. Originally, this story was much different, but then the extended preview was released, and YIKES. I had to completly rewrite. Anyway, it makes sense to me that with the arrival of Ben-Gidon and the realization that Eli is coming, things might become strained between Tony and Ziva.

A gigantic thank you to Schmaltzy and Sunshine80 for their help with editing and encouragement while I wrote this story. Although, since I am out of time to get this posted before Tuesday night's episode, I didn't have time to give them a final read through. All errors are mine. Thanks, guys, you were more helpful than you know!

She's laughing right before he takes control of the situation.

He's not really sure he would be able to retrace the route from point A to point B, but he doesn't care. He sure as hell doesn't want to think too hard about what is happening between the two of them. What has been happening for a few weeks now.

He prefers to focus on the naked woman in his bed.

Well, maybe not completely naked. She's wearing his button down shirt that certainly looks much better draped across her form than it ever did on him. Arching above him with a giggle, her legs tighten against his hips as she slides slowly back and forth with an agonizingly slow rhythm. Fingers digging into her thighs, he urges her faster but she resists, still moving with deliberate care. She bites her bottom lip, hiding a smile as her eyes fall shut.

"Patience, Tony, patience," she directs with a sly smirk as she raises her hands to tangle into her own hair and lifts her hips only to sink down again.



Wandering fingers release the buttons on the shirt one at a time until the fabric is hanging off of her shoulders. Rough hands graze her stomach and her breasts; his thumbs brushing her nipples pulling a low half-whimper, half-laugh from her lips. She's losing the battle, but she hasn't surrendered.

"Are you trying to kill me?" he chokes out.

She takes her sweet time answering. Pretending to consider her response and nibbling on her index finger in mock concentration, she somehow manages to maintain an incredibly slow tempo.

"I'm punishing you, Tony," she finally replies.

"Oh, really?"

"Maybe you shouldn't have let your father think we were only co-workers."

And just before he flips them over so that he can properly show her the error of her ways, he smacks her on the ass.

She laughs.

Her eyes slide shut in that dreamy sort of way that she has, her breath coming in little pants until she tightens around him and comes apart with a sharp cry.

This time it is Tony that laughs against her mouth.

Lazy hands trace patterns along the smooth skin of her back. Sprawled face down on the cool sheets, she smiles drowsily against the pillow as he memorizes the feel of her body in a possessive way that for some reason feels better than it should. She is not fully awake when his mouth replaces his finger tips or when he finally covers her body with his own; pressing her deeper into the plush pillow topped mattress.

She's making these soft little sounds, almost humming to herself; that slight smile still playing along her mouth as he strokes in and out of her lazily. Her hips push back against him causing him to groan and he picks up the pace. She comes much more softly than before, that satisfied smile still present as she goes utterly pliant and soft beneath him. A few more strokes; harder this time, and he comes, too, collapsing against her back with a shudder.

He kisses her shoulder before rolling off her almost sleeping body. She remains sprawled on her stomach as he throws a heavy arm across her back; both of them slipping back into slumber.

A few hours later, he feigns sleep when he feels her stir beside him. He knows she is leaving - one of them always leaves - and he considers asking her to stay. Asking her to stay even if it is just for a few more hours but he can't quite force the words from his mouth.

But then he hears the beep of her cell phone. His arm is still draped across her back as she slips toward the edge of the bed and fishes for her jeans, pulling her phone from the back pocket. She slides off of the bed to pad silently to his living room, gently shutting his bedroom door behind her.

The hushed conversation taking place in the living room is most definitely not in English. He rakes a hand through his hair and attempts to squash the unease flooding his body at the sound of fluent Hebrew. He has no reason to assume the worst, but old habits die hard.

He forces himself to breathe deeply as if in slumber when she slips back into his room. She is almost silent as she slides her limbs back into her clothing. He doesn't stir when she kisses his cheek in farewell, but when she squeezes his hand he can't maintain the pretense and his fingers close around hers for a brief moment.

She sits for just a moment on the edge of the bed, tempted to climb back in and stay, but that was never part of the deal.

Her hand is on the door knob when he calls out softly, "Ziva, do I need to be concerned?"

When she answers, he almost believes her. Almost.

"No. Sleep, Tony, I will see you at the office."