Just a whimsy brought on by littlesammy's LJ weekly prompt challenge, "who sprinkled you in horny dusty this morning?"
I do not own NCIS or any part thereof.
No specific time period…and I find myself wondering if Dwayne Johnson is really the Horny Fairy rather than the Tooth Fairy…Nothing to do with the story, just a random thought.
Who Sprinkled You in Horny Dust this Morning?
Crawling around behind his partner in abandoned air conditioning ducts was not one of his favorite things to do. Sure he loved following the swaying fullness of her ass but he was in pain and it was all her fault. Every bit of it. Crawling with an erection just wasn't comfortable, no matter how you tucked or adjusted.
Suddenly Ziva stopped and he pulled up just short of crashing into her; right into her fine, firm, round behind so well delineated in those tight-tight cargo pants. Said firmness now bare inches from the tip of his nose. He sighed. He couldn't take his eyes off his partner's mesmerizing fundament and against his will he found himself moving closer still. An almost uncontrollable urge came upon him to open his mouth and bite down. Just rip through the khaki material to the sleek flesh below and nibble his way up and down the golden-skinned length of her until she screamed his name.
He opened his mouth and …
"Tony!" Ziva was looking over her shoulder at him, her long, curly ponytail obscuring part of her face. .
Thank God she yelled. Probably saved his life because he'd been this close to chowing down on some prime Ziva tenderloin.
She'd reached the end of the duct they'd been traversing forEVER and now carefully stood up facing him, her crotch level with his mouth. The V formed where her legs joined her torso filled his line of sight. In self defense he forced his eyes closed. How many times every friggin' day did he chance dismemberment and/or death lusting after his beautiful and deadly partner? How many more times could he control the urge to just have at her? Especially when all too often it seemed as if she might not object, might even welcome his urges. She had urges too; he could tell.
Tired of waiting for him to stand up Ziva reached down and grabbed his jacket, pulled him upright, making sure to rub her body against his every inch of the way, her soft bra-free breasts rubbing his face tantalizingly as he passed them by. His pants growing noticeably tighter by the second.
He moaned. She smiled; enjoying his discomfort – the evil, sexy bitch.
She left her hands on his chest and gazed down, way down, then leaned closer and sniffed.
"You smell good. For a change. Who sprinkled you with horny dust today?"
Bravely, sorrowfully, he moved her hands away.
"You know and I know it's honey dust, Ziva, not horny. And no one. But thanks for saying I smell good."
Frowning, she said, "I know what honey dust is and you do not smell like honey dust. Just nice and clean, which is different for you, yes? However, you are very horny today. It is obvious."
Then she bumped him in the crotch with her hip, making his entire body spasm as it sought to perform two separate and opposite actions. The little head, the primal testosterone-driven part of him, wanted to push her up against the wall and sink his horny parts deep inside her V. The big head, where he kept what little was left of his brain, wanted to get as far away as fast as he could because imagining what she could do to his horny parts if she got mad - terrified him. Inability to decide…that was his big mistake everytime.
Seriously, he could never figure out if he wanted to love her or run from her.
Ziva looked up.
"I see a ledge, Tony. Boost me."
Still facing him she put her hands on his shoulders waiting for him to lift her.
"Oh, I'll boost you alright", he thought as he put his arms around her waist, sliding his hands down to tightly grip the full globes of that delicious, taunting ass, "and if I die today, at least I'll die with a smile on my face."