Pairing: Tony and Ziva
Warnings: Probably not safe for work.
Disclaimer: If I owned NCIS it would need to be on HBO … I am just saying.
Summary: She runs away because she is unsure of her feelings. She runs away because she knows his past, and she knows her mechanisms. What she doesn't know is that he feels the same way, and he is not going to give up so easily. ONESHOT TIVA
AN: I think I tend to write more when I am stressed … I need to be stressed more often then - though that really just sounds like no fun.
Dedication: My Jes
She is tense, because his arms are wrapped around her and she is lying on his chest, and this moment just feels entirely too right. She shouldn't be feeling this way, and she knows it. It haunts her thoughts, telling her of things she couldn't have.
So she continues to lay there silently, allowing her heart to pound its staccato rhythm against her rib cage as her fingers tighten against the bed sheet that is surrounding her. She is fighting this because she has to.
He shifts against her, tightening his grasp on her as he snuggles into the pillow that sits beneath his head, she knows that he is just on the cusps of unconsciousness. She knows that soon he will be asleep; it is the moment she has been waiting for since the end of this unexpected rendezvous. The feel of his naked thigh pressing so intimately against her equally naked side is making her think irrational thoughts, she can't allow herself to over analyze this moment. She knows what it really is.
It isn't long before his breathing has finally evened out, flowing out of him in steady streams that coat the air around them as he lets whatever dreams he is having take over his form. She allows herself to relish the feel of his strong arms around her for only a second, she promises herself that she will not get lost in this.
It is when her heart stops pounding that she makes her move, slipping away from him while tucking the blanket around him completely before collecting her scattered clothing. She might have been embarrassed at the way her bra was hanging from the bedpost, or the way her panties lay innocently on the edge of his bedside table but she is neither, because the heat of the moment that had been so strong just moments before was still lingering in her belly like a ghost of a touch she is sure she would never forget. She doesn't want to forget it, because she does not regret it even though she knows that she probably should.
She can freely admit that she enjoyed their time together tonight. From the first instant where their lips pushed together to the very end where they lay with heaved breaths and tangled limbs – it was all more than she could have hoped for. Her hoarse calls of pleasure had been proof of her enjoyment, and she can still feel his hands lingering on her hips as he spilled his essence inside of her.
She shakes herself from her memories, because now is definitely not the time to be reminiscing. She needs to get out of here, she needs to get away from him before she is effectively sucked back into this thing that neither of them are quite ready for. She just hopes that he understands, though she doesn't expect for it to be that easy. It never is.
When he shows up for work the next day his eyes are dark and lingering. His gaze is heavy, asking her questions and throwing painful accusations all at the same time. She is not quite sure what to make of it, because of everything that she had thought would happen this is not one of them. Though she also thinks that the feeling he ignites in her with just a look is something she needs to get control over, because it makes her entirely too weak.
She ignores him because it is easy, and it is safe. If she cannot see the way his eyes falter as he stares her down then she will not jump to unspoken conclusions, it is as simple as that. Her brain likes to make conjectures; she cannot allow that to happen with him.
She is thankful for the save sometime later, and she feels marginally bad that she had been hoping for something, anything really, to take her mind off of things, and that something happened to be a call out for a dead marine. It doesn't take her long to forget that though, because she is throwing herself headlong into the case in a way only a former Mossad Officer knows how. Her feelings are left behind to make way for the investigation, and she allows it.
It is times like this that she doesn't curse her upbringing, because the pain that she sometimes feels when thinking about all that she has gone through is nothing compared to what she is currently hiding from.
She really doesn't expect him to corner her, at least not so quickly, but she supposes she should have. The case isn't even close to being solved, their first and only suspect is interrogation and she had been on her way down to collect the findings from Abby when he stepped into the elevator with her and flipped the emergency switch in a way that happens so often.
She is scared of how vulnerable she feels beneath his unwavering stare. She gnaws on her lip as she looks at him with dark eyes she knows are guarded, and she doesn't speak because she can't. She knows that he has something to say, the need to speak is written all over his face though the words he wants to spill are as hidden as he can make them.
"Is this how it is going to be?" he questions, and the void in his voice causes her heart to catch in a way that surprises her at first. She isn't quite sure what is happening, but she thinks she might throw up given the chance.
"Yes," she croaks out eventually. Her lips are parched, and her throat feels dry because there is no use pretending she doesn't understand just what he is talking about when she knows exactly what it is he is insinuating. She is tired of their game, she thinks that that much is obvious.
She tries to tell herself it doesn't hurt when she flips the switch and steps off the elevator once it reaches her destination, leaving him firmly encased inside. She knows it is a lie.
It is the briefest of moments that happens only a few days later, but the feelings have not changed for her so it feels like something much more than it is. She is still scared of what he might do because he seems ready to step, and she is also sorrowful because things should not have turned out like this. She wishes, not for the first time, that she had been stronger so that she could have resisted temptation. They would not be in this mess if she had been able to keep to herself for a bit longer, if she had channeled her lust in a different way than with him.
He is looking at her with the same eyes that he did that night, and she feels the way her body reacts to him, ready in ways she doesn't want to admit. The heat of his gaze is sweltering, and she feels the need to shed a few layers of clothes because her abdomen has been pooling with arousal since he stepped into the room, and her lips begin to quiver with her need.
She needs to get out of here, but she can't bring herself to move. She has already lost this battle once before, and it is clear now that she will not be able to fight it every again.
The second time that she ends up in his bed it is a little more planned than the first. Their intentions had been clear from the start this go around, nonetheless the same feelings course through her as she waits for him to fall asleep.
It takes longer than the first time, and his fingers are curled around her shoulder as though he is afraid to let her go. She doesn't think too much about it though, this is what it is, and she cannot change that. Tony doesn't do relationships, and she is not supposed to do feelings. This could never workout between them for these two reasons alone.
The fact that there are several emotions swirling within the pit of her stomach as she sneaks out of his house a second time is something that she ignores. She does not think about the fact that because she has changed he might have too, because that is dangerous territory that she will not allow herself to delve into.
The next time she sees him the fire in his eyes burns with something she can only call hatred. She thinks that it is better this way, because if he hated her he wouldn't go after her. She momentarily forgot about 'angry sex' because she is too absorbed in the pain of thinking he can feel such a negative emotion towards her.
His lips are hard against hers as he pulls her into the stairwell behind the break room. She gasps loudly in surprise as his hands grip her in a way that feels far too possessive to be true.
He wastes no time in plundering her mouth with his tongue when her lips fall open in shock, and she thought she was the sneaky one in this relationship, but she can't stop the way her heart is currently fluttering in her throat because of his sudden attack. She thinks she taught him well, just before she fully succumbs to his onslaught.
It isn't long before he pulls away from her, a promise in his eyes that she knows he will fulfill. She shivers in anticipation, and even though she doesn't know what this will mean for them she knows that she will gladly follow him wherever he may take her.
When he leaves her standing in the hall with swollen lips she is breathless and confused. She wonders if what just occurred was somehow payback, if he was just giving her a taste of her own medicine.
When she goes home that night she feels cold, because it seemed that it was Tony's turn to ignore her. After she had finally came back from the hallway he hadn't looked at her once, she loathes to admit how much that hurt.
She has just changed her clothes when a harsh knock sounds from her door. She is tired, and she has to practically drag herself over to answer it. When she recognizes her visitor her body feels more awake then it should, that makes her nervous.
The promise she had seen earlier is in his eyes once more, and he is claiming her lips in a kiss so tender she thinks she might cry. He slowly adds more pressure, the passion quickly creeping up her spine as he swirls his tongue in her mouth just as his fingers dip beneath her sweats, resting against the small of her back as he taps a rhythm against her skin.
He is slow in his movements, and she swears it takes hours for him to back her into her bedroom, and make his way over to her bed. The mattress is pressing incessantly against the backs of her knees as he presses his body against her. His body is gentle beneath the hardened muscles he possesses, and she finds herself eagerly curling against it even as he pushes her onto the bed.
He is pulling her tank top from her body when she feels her chest seize in a painful way that has her clutching at his shoulders. It is in that moment she realizes she can't let him go, that no matter how many times she has to walk away she will always come back to him. She wonders if he feels the same way.
His tongue had been tracing heated trails down her neck during her thoughts, and it is only when his lips clamp around her nipple with scorching heat that she is brought back to this moment. She feels herself open up to him in more ways than one, and she cradles him between her thighs as she wishes the barriers that stand in between them were gone.
Her toes nudge at the waistband of his pants, while his fingers curl around the edge of her sweatpants. He rids her of her clothes first, the look of awe on his features causes her to wonder because he has seen everything before, and still he looks as though he is losing himself in her. She knows that that cannot be possible.
When he frees himself of his own clothing he steps back towards her, the heat of his body reaching out to wrap around her own as he pushes his way inside of her body with a cherished gentleness that makes her feel things she has been trying to hold back. He is going slow now, and it is such a far cry from the furious thrusts she had been met with both times prior but she relishes it all the same.
This feels different in a way, though she can only chalk it up to her earlier realization that she is addicted to this man.
The pace he sets is one that has her crying out for more in no time. He is giving her just enough to have her crawling towards the edge of completion, but she is begging him to move faster. Her toes are nudging against his thighs as she thrusts against him harshly. He does not cede to her requests, and her actions are met with a firm hand against her hips that still her movements.
She whines when he slips from inside of her, and she practically sobs in relief when he slides back in. His surging length is so hot inside of her, and she is so swollen that each penetration nearly causes her to feel pain, but it is so wonderfully delicious that she knows it is really only pleasure that is searing her veins. His thumb rubs against her hip in a gentle swipe, and she feels her heat rising because if he were to move that thumb just a few inches to the left it would be pressed against her clit, that is what she wants.
Her thighs are clenching tighter as her feelings build, and she is so vocal about her appreciation for what he is doing that he can't help but to speed up his pace the tiniest of fractions. His pelvis hits her clit, catching and rubbing against it with each downward motion that she can't help the way her nails embed themselves into his bicep as she sighs her pleasure in gusts of wind that caress his skin. He seems to like that, because his hips begin to jut against hers in a way she had been begging him to do since the beginning, and when his own breath falls harshly against flesh and it cause her to press against him further.
Through the haze of her mind she vaguely takes in his slackened jaw, and tight eyes that are so dark with pleasure that she has to moan because it causes her body to tighten. He is nearly gone and that thought pleases her. Her gut squeezes deliciously as her muscles tighten around him in a way that nearly causes him to stop moving. All this makes him choke out her name, and that is all that it takes for her to go tumbling over.
Never before has sex happened in such a slow pace for her, it had always been a rapid race to the finish that left her panting in exertion. Not this, this had literally stolen the breath right out of her, and she sucks in air though she feels like her lungs have collapsed.
In the aftermath of one of the most powerful orgasms she has ever had the pleasure of achieving she feels him let go, it is something that she will always remember because his body tenses against her tightly before relaxing completely in a way that screams of complete and utter trust. It takes her a few seconds to realize that he had actually said something when he came, and it takes her even longer to decipher the words. When she does she is frantically pushing against his chest as she attempts to squirm away. This can't be happening, not to her, not now.
"Move," she eventually hisses, her tone completely deadly as she goes slack against him. This time she is completely aware of the way her fingers are curling into him, she wants to inflict as much pain as possible, and she hopes that the bite of her nails will make him shirk away.
"Never," he replies petulantly, and he is doing his best to ignore the harm she is inflicting on his chest that she can't help but to release him. He just doesn't understand what this means, she thinks if he did he wouldn't be so quick to sleep with her again.
There is silence that surrounds them, and they don't dare to speak s they stare into one another's eyes. So much is said without actually speaking, and she feels panic swell within as she realizes his intent. This is what she wanted, but it is so wrong all the same. It wasn't supposed to go this way, because this was never supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to return her feelings; that was why she had made sure to leave each morning before he awoke. Tony did one night stands, and she had tried her hardest to make it feel like that for him.
"This cannot happen again," she pleads, and the bitter taste that sits upon her tongue causes her physical harm. Her heart feels cut somehow, and she doesn't understand how something that was never given a chance can be so painful.
"And why not?" his question is so simple, and she wonders if he is only fighting with her on this because that is who they are, and fighting is what they do. They could bicker till the sun goes down, and she thinks he might just be arguing now for the sake of arguing. She plans to set him straight.
"I will only hurt you," she says in a voice that is soft, and she thinks that this is the first time that she doesn't actually mean that she would physically harm him. That part scares her more than she had initially realized.
"You can't know that," he whispers into her hair, and she is not completely oblivious to the fact that he is still inside of her body.
She doesn't want to hurt him, but some things are inevitable, he has said so himself. She can still remember that day, because that had been the start of her hope. "I know myself, and I know of what I am capable of," she whispered, and she has to turn away from him because this conversation was suddenly too real to be in such an open state. She wants to hide.
"And I know that you are capable of loving me," he whispers, and she has to turn back to him because he wasn't supposed to know that. No one was supposed to know. "Because I am capable of loving you too."
His words are softer than ever before, and they register on some layer of her mind because her heart picks up its pace as something warm spreads throughout her body. She doesn't think about that for too long because her lips are on hers again, and she thinks this might just be his way of telling her to say screw the consequences. Sometimes pain comes hand in hand with love, and she thinks that maybe they really were inevitable.
She cares too much about him to simply give up hope, and she thinks that just maybe they are finally on the wave length after all of these years.
This is what came to me after a late night of studying, and panicking over finals that I really shouldn't be panicking over. I couldn't sleep, and a story grabbed hold of my consciousness and forced me to write it. This is the outcome; I hope that you enjoyed it, because I really enjoyed writing it.
Reviews are always welcome.