Ziva awakes with the first rays of the sun. She moves a mass of hair out of her eyes and blinks a couple times before registering that she is on her side in the middle of her bed without a blanket or a stitch of clothing. Somebody is pressed up against her back, and now she remembers that it is Tony, and she recalls what they did.

She rolls over to face him. His arm that had been around her waist changes positions and settles on her stomach instead. He is sound asleep, which she is glad for. She needs a moment to grasp the fact that she has fallen even more in love with him because of last night and that, even so, nothing has changed. Nothing.

They still have separate planes to catch.

They are still never going to see each other again.

She raises her fingers to his face and allows them to ghost over his cheek. When he lets out a small snore, reassuring her that he is not yet awake, she rests her entire palm against his warm skin. He subconsciously nuzzles into her hand, and for just a split second, she thinks that she might cry.

Ziva forces herself to turn onto her back and stare at nothing but the ceiling. She does hold the hand that rests on her abdomen while she becomes lost in her thoughts of dread. How much time passes like this, she does not know. At some point, though, Tony squeezes her hand, hard.

She glances over to find his eyes wide open and focused intently on her face. For a full three seconds, they hold that gaze, and then she whispers, "Hello."

"Hi." He leans down to press his swollen lips against hers. When he pulls away, he brings their joined hands to his chest. "How are you?" he asks quietly.

Ziva can hardly turn her focus away from the feel of his heartbeat beneath her flesh long enough to respond. "I am… okay."

Tony nods, seeming to get it. "I'm okay, too." He lowers his head and begins placing kisses in the valley between her breasts. When he gently cups one of them as well, her core tightens.

"What are you doing?" she asks weakly.

He draws the breast into his mouth, and her nipple quickly erects itself. His tongue swirls around it. Just as quickly as he was there, he is gone, resting his chin on her chest and peering up at her. "Making the most of our morning."

After one more hard, longing kiss, he rolls her onto her stomach. As she lies there, hands flat on the bed and cheek resting against them, she watches Tony out of the corner of her eye. He sits beside her, eyes raking over her bare backside. Observing. Processing.

Then he gathers her hair in one fist and moves it all over her shoulder. Cool air assaults her newly exposed skin. She puts her forehead down on the mattress and turns all of her senses on hyper alert so she knows what he is doing. For a few seconds, she has no idea; then he is not quite lying on top of her, but rather hovering over her. She can feel that he is already hard, and she moves her hips backward in order to bounce her ass off of his stiffness. There is nothing she wants more right now than for him to be pulsing inside of her.

"Tony," she grunts, trying to turn back over. He puts both hands on her spine to hold her where she is, then begins kissing her shoulder blades, her vertebrae. Ziva is impatient- they do not have much time- but the sensation of his soft butterfly kisses causes her to relax a little nonetheless. He seems to cover every square inch of her back; then he lightly licks from her waist down her thigh and to her ankle. He travels back up, the tongue strokes morphing into kisses. There is a dull ache in her abdomen as he nears the area between her legs, and her desire for him is such that she finds the strength to toss him off of her.

They bounce as they land in a heap on the mattress. Ziva reclines on her pillow and looks up at his flushed face. He looks energized, rejuvenated, up for anything.

And oh, they should not do this again. It is already going to be so hard when he has to leave, but all those things he said about this being their one and only chance to make memories together are echoing through her mind, and before she has made a conscious decision, she is bringing her knees into the air and spreading her legs apart.

"You know where I want you," she says hoarsely, and he does not hesitate to go there.

Ziva watches him kneel at the foot of her bed. He lowers his head so she can only see the top of it, and it registers that he is going to use his mouth. Her center is already throbbing when his tongue begins probing through her heat. He works rhythmically, opening his mouth wide against her, then closing it slowly. The tantalizing pressure of his tasting is almost more than she can bear already, but she keeps quiet and reaches down to tug on his hair. Soon, he finds her pleasure area. She gasps at his first stroke of it and pulls his head into her. As he continues working, her hips begin to rock back and forth. Tony grabs them to still her and keeps going, bringing her nearer and nearer to where she wants to be. A strangled cry rips from her throat. "Tony."

He understands. He comes up for air, shoots her a reassuring smile, and then slips two fingers inside her. Ziva bucks against his hand, muscles contracting in an attempt to pull him in further. For a moment, Tony experiments, and then he finds an angle that causes her to wet his fingers. He continues to work, but it is not enough. "Harder," she says desperately. "Right there. There, Tony. There."

"Shh," he orders gently, raising his eyes to look at her. They are clear and unclouded. He keeps rubbing her the way she wants, holding her gaze… and then he withdraws his hand and ducks down. Ziva is about to snap at him to finish her off already, but then his tongue is on her again. He presses it to her top and flicks it rapidly downward. When he hits her sensitive bundle of nerves and increases the force he is exerting, she finally gets there.

She screams as her vision blurs and she falls slack against the mattress. Everything in her body turns to putty. Tony crawls up to her side and takes her shaking body in his arms, and she buries her face into his chest as she rides out the last of this explosive, one-of-a-kind orgasm he has given her.

"You're okay," he whispers, caressing her lower back.

"I know," she says, still curled weakly against him. She takes a couple of deep breaths before drawing away. His hand hooks around her thigh, and in one fast movement, he has pulled her on top of him.

Tony rakes his fingers through her hair- straight yesterday, but by now, it has reverted back to its natural curls. "And you're beautiful."

She is not thinking when she responds. She is looking at him, at the silly grin gracing his lips, at the flushed joy of his cheeks, and the words just come out. "So are you."

As soon as she says it, she grimaces, but he laughs fondly and pulls her down for a kiss. "Thanks," he murmurs against her mouth, "but can I be handsome instead? Or hot?"


"Which one?"

"Both." Ziva gives him another kiss, and then she sits up and shimmies down his body with the resolution to reward him. As he watches curiously, she leans over and wraps her mouth around his erection.

Tony groans loudly. "Ziva."

"Shh," she hisses against him, prompting a shudder. She very, very slowly slides down and then back up and then down again. He is so hard, so heavy, that she feels like she might choke, but she is determined to finish this. At his tip, she flicks her tongue out to trace it, and his thigh muscles clench where she is balancing her elbows on them.

As she moves back up his shaft, she kneads one of his balls, then the other. Tony says her name with so much desire that she thinks she might come again just by hearing it. However, she must focus on him right now. She continues to suck at his length, occasionally blowing a bit as a supplement, and makes sure that she pays his balls their fair share of attention. After a few minutes, she decides to utilize her touch. She transfers his cock from her mouth to her hand and pumps it, up and down, back and forth. With every passing second, more blood rushes to the area between his legs; she can tell that his arousal has increased tenfold since she began working him. Repeatedly, low, guttural sounds form deep in his throat.

"Ziva," he moans loudly as she hits a sensitive spot beneath his head, and his pelvis jolts upwards. She bites her lip in delight, then begins to rub the place that caused such a reaction. Tony throws his head back. He lifts his arms and gropes around in the air. When he finds her shoulders, he holds tight to them. Ziva leans forward to make it easier on him, still drawing his pleasure from under his head. This is obviously what gets to him the most; he looks on the verge of convulsing and his moans are getting closer together. As she picks up speed, though, trying to bring about his peak, he suddenly says, "Stop."

She startles. "What?"

"Stop," he repeats in a strangled voice. "Let me inside you first."

Ziva slowly lets him go and tilts her head at him. This is two times now that Tony has requested this; she has never been with a man so adamant about coming in her. Usually, she is dispensable to their climaxes.

"Why?" she asks, genuinely curious.

Tony motions for her to crawl into his arms, and she does. He wants to tell her something. She settles atop him, making sure they are lined up so he can enter her when the time comes.

"I need you," he whispers, lifting one hand to explore the contours of her face. "I just… I just really need you, Ziva."

Ziva worries her bottom lip. He looks like a lost little boy. She thinks about Jeanne, about Jenny, about all his pain and hers, and decides that yes, they need each other. Even if it will not last long.

"Okay," she murmurs, reaching between their bodies to dip him into her wet heat. There is a bit of shifting and situating required, but he is soon settled within her. Ziva kisses his throat. "Ready?"


She closes her eyes as she wriggles her hips, trying to find her rhythm. He takes a moment to figure out what she is doing, then matches her movements. They fall into a steady pattern. Ziva knows when he begins throbbing between her walls that she is going to come again, but, for now, is only concerned with making sure he does. When Tony's nails dig into her ass for support, she looks up; his teeth are gritted. A vein is popping out of his forehead. She lifts herself so that only his tip remains inside her, then rams back down. Her muscles clench around him, and that does it. His entire body trembles as he spurts into her. Ziva clutches his head to her shoulder as all of his limbs sag. She kisses his hair and makes soothing noises while he recovers; once he does, he palms her cheeks and pulls back to see her face. They hold a long, heavy gaze before he flips them over so he is on top. He falls out of her as they go, and she makes a sound of discontentment. Tony quickly amends the situation. She sighs in relief.

"You are amazing," he says, gyrating his hips against hers. Ziva lifts her legs and winds them around his waist, pulling him as far into her as possible. She thinks, but cannot remember anybody else who busied himself so much with making sure she was satisfied in bed. She is not even having to work right now; he is doing all the pounding and grinding, and one of his hands has drifted to her clit and begun to move in hard, fast circles. Ziva, by now, has no reservations about making noise. She moans commands and his name and, as she inches toward climax, unintelligible things. The skill of his fingers and the penetration of his length combine to cut off all of her neural networks. All she can hear is herself, all she can see and smell is him, and her last comprehensible thought before she falls over the edge is, We could do this forever.

She cries out, head thrown back in ecstasy, as she spasms. Tony wraps her in his embrace and cradles her as the tide washes over her and she waits for it to retreat. She does not yell again; she purses her lips and leans her forehead against his, quivering silently. He murmurs words of comfort right up against her mouth so that she can feel them even in the moments where her brain is not working well enough to comprehend them. Right now, with Tony, she feels safer than she ever has.

And as she descends from her high, it begins to sink in that tomorrow, she will be without him.

She does not realize that she is crying until he swipes at the area below her eyes and asks, "What's the matter?"

Tony removes himself from within her and sits up. He slips one arm around her shoulders and the other under her knees and tugs her body, still weak, into his lap. She buries her face in his chest and tries so hard to calm down. He lifts her hair, kisses her neck.

"You have to go," she manages to say without her voice wavering too much. "And I have to go."

He takes a deep, shaky breath and holds her tighter. "Yeah."

Ziva chastises herself. She knew that letting him spend the night and make love to her would make this more difficult than it already was, yet she did it anyway. And now… now, she will have to deal with the consequences.

But if she is honest with herself, she does not regret it. Not really.

"We have a couple more hours," Tony says, and she hears tears in his voice, too. "Let's not think about it yet, okay? Let's just… stay here."

She kisses his collarbone and runs her fingers over his spine. "Okay," she whispers, and they do.


The time comes when he has to leave. He gets out of her bed grudgingly and walks around the room and into the hallway while he collects his clothes. By the time she has pulled something on, he is fully dressed and waiting by the door.

Ziva walks up to him, takes his face in her hands, and gives him one last, long, sweet, pained kiss. She keeps her eyes open and he does the same; she can barely see through the film of moisture covering hers, but his blue-green orbs still get imprinted on her mind.

When he pulls away, he murmurs, "I love you."

And that should make everything worse, but this is actually not news to her. In the past twelve hours, she has figured it out. "I know," she says. "I love you, too."

Tony rubs his thumb over her cheekbone, and then one corner of his mouth quirks upward. "I'll see you," he says. "Someday."

"Someday," Ziva repeats, but knows that it is impossible.

Then he opens the door and slips into the mid-morning light. She does not follow him out.

Perhaps, under different circumstances, there would be hope. Perhaps she and Tony would have had a chance.

There is no real reason to dwell on it, though. Because whatever life they would have worked out in, it is not this one.

She goes into the other room to prepare for reality.

Okay, that's a wrap. To me, this makes sense with season six canon, even though I don't REALLY think they slept together after the season five finale. That's just me. *shrugs*

Thanks for reading, leave me a review? Pleaseee?