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She exhaled deeply as she fastened her small gold earrings, taking one last look at herself in the full-length mirror; blinking slowly as she examined herself. She had opted for a light layer of makeup – no more than a thin, sheer layer of foundation, mascara, and a clear lip gloss – delicate and simple, to compliment the little black dress she had chosen, having seen it in a store window several weeks prior and loved it. It wasn’t anything fancy – no frills and ruffles or intricate detail, but it hugged her figure in all the right places, and she liked how it looked. She hoped Tony would too. Her palms splayed flat against the fabric as she smoothed it down, slightly tilting her head to one side, the dip in between her brows becoming prominent as she bit her lip and a pensive expression crossed her face. It really wasn’t anything fancy… maybe it was too plain. Did it show that she was making an effort? Maybe she should change into something more… more.
“Zi? Are you ready?” came Tony’s voice from the front room, making her stomach flutter and her heart race. It was her and Tony’s first real date – ever – and on Valentine’s day no less, and fuck she was nervous. In all honesty, neither of them had even remembered it was Valentine’s Day until the shops had been adorned with heart-shaped garlands and gifts, and overpriced chocolates for people to buy their significant other. But by then Tony had secured their reservation at the restaurant – a small, romantic place that he knew would be perfect for the two of them, and he would be damned if they changed their plans due to their unfortunate timing – something so typically, them. Somehow they had come to an unspoken agreement to not celebrate Valentine’s Day, as though they were by no means strangers, they were still adjusting to life together, and neither of them needed the added pressure or complication of trying to define their relationship – whatever it may be – while they were suspended in a state between familiarity and reacquaintance. And besides, who needed labels anyway? As far as they were both concerned, their hearts were tethered together by an invisible string (or not so invisible in the case of Tali David-DiNozzo), and who wanted to share the rest of their lives together, even if they had not distinctly verbalised it out loud. Why did it matter what they were, so as long as they were together?
It had been nearly two and a half months since Ziva had joined Tony and Tali in Paris, and they were for all intents and purposes, taking things slow. They had shared a few kisses, their first being on New Year’s Eve as they cuddled in the loveseat on the balcony of their apartment, watching intermittent bursts of sparkling colour against the backdrop of the navy sky. He hadn’t expected to kiss her, and though she had secretly been hoping for it for days, she hadn’t expected him to either, but nearly two weeks of being close and not kissing her, had nearly driven him crazy. They both knew it wasn’t going to go any further until they were ready, and he was very insistent on respecting her boundaries, but the urge to kiss her had been like an itch, deep within his skin that he couldn’t scratch, and he had so desperately needed to relieve it. He had glanced down at her as she had cuddled into his side, pulling the woollen blanket tighter around them – as though the heat radiated from their bodies, it still hadn’t been quite warm enough to dispel the winter chill that had circled the air. When she had briefly met his gaze, he licked his lips and for a moment had contemplated whether he was making a mistake, before he allowed his instinct and intuition to take over. It had very rarely steered him wrong when it came to Ziva. The kiss was small and sweet, and his lips hadn’t lingered for too long, not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable. As he pulled back, she had slowly batted her eyelashes at him, partly in disbelief and partly adoration, while her lips twitched into a smile. Moments later, her hand had found the nape of his neck and she had pulled him down for a longer, deeper kiss, their silhouettes aglow in a purple-pink haze, as more fireworks illuminated the sky – a sure sign that they were slowly progressing towards something.
Still, she had continued to remain in the spare bedroom of their three-bed maisonette – opposite Tali’s room and next to Tony’s – on account of not wanting them to feel like she was completely intruding in their home. Though, small touches of Ziva had begun appearing throughout the apartment – not by any of her doing. A tiny menorah had appeared on the mantelpiece of their fireplace, seemingly out of nowhere, which she had spotted the morning after Christmas, as she made her and Tony coffee. He had noticed her eyes trail to it from across the kitchen and he simply smiled at her in the knowing way he did, quietly proud of the small gesture he was able to show her. And yet, for Ziva, it was hardly small at all. She had never felt so seen and so loved the way she did with Tony – even during the moments where they were not quite a couple (not that they were entirely sure that that is what they were now.) He saw her even when she did not want to be seen; found her when she did not want to be found; and loved her when she felt she did not deserve to be loved. His thoughtfulness was a reflection not only of the man he was, but of the way he cared. More specifically, of the way he cared for her.
Over the following few weeks, more and more items had appeared of their own accord: the stack of books on the shelves in the foyer, including all of her favourites; the Middle Eastern-inspired vases in different rooms, each housing a bunch of flowers; the vanilla and jade scented candles, like the ones she had lit during their days spent… coupling in the farmhouse; and the canvas painting of orange trees – ever so reminiscent of that time and place too – hanging in their living room, and perfectly complimenting the sage green paint upon the walls.
And then, there were items that she had added: the odd couch cushion and blanket that she curled up in with a book when Tony was working late; the pair of shoes that sat by the door alongside those of the other two occupants; and the small trinkets and belongings, evidence of her residence in the abode.
Originally, her plan had been to stay in an apartment of her own, or one of the safe houses that she had just outside the city, until they were better reacquainted. That was, until, the reunion at the airport, where instead of being greeted by a Parisian stranger holding the name ‘David’ on a piece of paper, she was met, albeit unexpectedly, with her two greatest loves in the world – one bearing a small bunch of flowers in her tiny hands, and the other with a lopsided smile on his face as he filmed the entire interaction, for all of them to look back on some day. During the car ride home, despite sensing her hesitancy about the situation, he had insisted (not that she was given much of a choice in the matter) that she live with them, because they had spent enough time apart, and Tali needed her mother as much as Ziva needed Tali. And as for their situation, they would figure it out as they went. Regardless of whatever happened (or didn’t happen) between him and Ziva, the three of them were a family, no matter what.
She sighed, nodding to herself before slipping on the pair of strappy black heels she had chosen, and took another deep breath. There was no turning back now.
She spun on her heels and walked slowly to the closed bedroom door. The sound of her heartbeat in her ears eclipsed the silence in the room, as she thought of the man she loved standing on the other side, waiting for her. To this day, she hadn’t actually told him she loved him, but maybe tonight she would finally have the courage to do so. Maybe.
Her hands shook as she reached for the handle of the door, opening it just a fraction and peering through the small gap. Tony leaned against the couch cradling a bouquet of fresh red roses in his arms, and the pounding in her chest very nearly stopped altogether. She had always known he was chivalrous and romantic, but the idea of him having spent time choosing the perfect bunch for her, sent a tingle down her spine in a way she hadn’t experienced before. She allowed her eyes to wander, taking in the sight of him and his attire – dark trousers and a navy button down shirt, paired with his best dress shoes that he didn’t wear for work; and his hair perfectly styled in the way that she liked: with just enough gel to hold it in place, and yet, not so much that it would be crunchy should she run her hands through it (she would). She gulped. He had always taken pride in his appearance, having spent the majority of his time at NCIS in a suit a tie, and she couldn’t help but wonder how much of it he had done in an attempt to impress her (not that he ever really needed to, because if she was being honest, it had been love at first sight – not that she would ever tell him that). But the way he cared about how he presented himself was one of the things that made him incredibly attractive to her, along with his generosity, his charming smile, the way he could make her laugh, and a million other things that she could spend forever listing. But this version of Tony – the more mature, sophisticated, fatherly version of himself, was attractive to her in an entirely new way.
When he sensed her eyes on him, he raised his head and turned towards the door, half smirking when he noticed her pupils through the crack. His lips twitched into a smile as she opened the door further, entering the front room nervously, with a bashful smile on her face.
“Woah,” he exclaimed as his elevator eyes slowly took her in, and a blush crept up her cheeks beneath his gaze. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen her in a dress before, as he had seen her in many over the years – from an emerald green satin gown during their first undercover mission together, to a short black number right before Jimmy’s wedding, that accentuated her bronzed legs (and yes, she had caught him staring when he thought she wouldn’t notice.) But, this was the first time she had gotten dressed up solely for him – Tony – as herself, and that both excited and terrified her in equal measure. For the first time, there would be no pretence or facade; no disguise to hide behind. It was just her and him. Tony and Ziva, as nobody but themselves.
“Is it okay?” she asked, biting her lip. “You did not tell me where we are going to eat, so I had to…”
“It’s perfect,” he reassured with the biggest grin. “You’re perfect.”
Surprise crossed her face before a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She didn’t know if she would ever get used to it. It was unfamiliar territory – being showered with compliments from him, something which there had been a lot of since she had arrived in Paris. From “you look nice,” to the way the words “good morning, beautiful” would slip off his tongue as he pressed a kiss to her cheek before reaching for the coffee pot. But, she secretly hoped that she would feel this giddy forever.
“Thank you. You look,” she paused, taking a step closer to place her palm on his chest, “very handsome.” He smiled back at her, wondering if she could feel the way his heart was pounding beneath her fingertips.
He didn’t think he had ever been quite so nervous before. It was no secret to anybody that his past had been riddled with dates, having been something of a womanizer in his younger years. He had lost count of the times he had boasted about a three-day weekend full of sex, much to the annoyance of his co-workers. But that part of him was long gone and had been from the moment he realized he was hopelessly in love with Ziva – the only woman he ever wanted to build a future with. He had changed because of her, and had been willing to change for her, if it meant that they could be together and had the life he imagined – of a white picket fence house in a suburb somewhere; with one or two children that were the perfect combination of the two of them; and of waking her up in the morning with a gentle kiss on her lips and a coffee in hand, as they spent a lazy Sunday wrapped in each other. After all, he had asked her to come back to DC with him all those years ago with the intent of doing just that – beginning a relationship with her if she had wanted to. But she hadn’t then, and he wasn't entirely sure if she wanted to now, though he hoped that things would be somewhat clearer for the both of them by the end of the evening. And the fact that she hadn’t turned him down when he asked her out on a date with him, was a very good sign.
“Hey, Ziva?”
“Mhmm?” she responded as she carefully chopped vegetables, briefly looking up to find him leaning against the kitchen counter with a small smile on his face.
“Would you, uh….” he stuttered, running a hand through his hair. Why the hell was he so nervous? This was Ziva. Ziva. The woman he loved with all his heart and whom he was living with. The mother of his child. He just needed to ask her. Her nose crinkled as she smiled to herself. He was cute when he was flustered. “Would you… go on a date… with me?”
The knife froze in her hand and her eyes grew wide as she inhaled sharply, at his unexpected question. Her mouth parted slightly, ready to respond, but the words died on her tongue. Of course she wanted nothing more than to say yes, and yet the hesitancy overcame her. A date. With Tony. The love of her life. This was as close to a real relationship as they had ever been – their nearly seven days spent with their bare bodies between sheets in Israel, aside – and she would be fucked if she screwed it up. She didn’t want to be with anybody else, and they only really had one shot at this, didn’t they? And she would inevitably screw it up somehow, wouldn’t she? She screwed everything up.
He hovered with bated breath, examining her reaction. “You’re panicking,” he stated, mostly to himself as he watched her watching him. She swallowed hard, setting the knife down on the countertop and he shook his head, frantically thinking of another topic to swiftly divert the conversation.
He knew it was a risk to ask her, not because he was afraid of rejection – at least, not by her – but because she had been so frank with him about her anxiety and he didn’t want her to feel like there was any pressure or expectation for them to be something on top of that. But, he had a pocketful of regrets when it came to his decisions over Ziva – like not confessing to her how he felt sooner, and leaving her on the tarmac of Ben Guiron airport. Perhaps if he hadn’t and he had stayed in Be’er Sheva, he and Ziva would be happily married by now, Tali wouldn’t be an only child, and they would be the happiest family on earth, without all of the baggage they had yet to fully unpack.
“You know what,” he continued, “never mind, it’s too soon, we don’t have to-”
His words were cut off by the feeling of her lips on his, her brown irises sparkling as she pulled back. “I would love to.”
“Really?” he asked brightly in disbelief. “You’re not just saying that to shut me up are you?”
“No,” she chuckled, taking a step closer. Heat radiated off their bodies as she wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingertips lightly toying with the hair at the base of his neck, as his hands instinctively settled on her waist. It was a pose they had become comfortable and accustomed to, and despite having been in far closer positions, for them, there was something deeply intimate about it; perhaps because in their world of chaos and unpredictability, it resembled something close to them being a ‘normal’ couple. “It took you long enough.”
“What?’
“I have been waiting for you to ask.”
“You have?” he replied, his brows crinkling.
“Only for about a decade and a half. But, fifteen years later is better than never, I suppose,” she teased. He nearly purred as her fingers raked through his hair.
“I thought I missed my chance?”
She shook her head. “Not at all. I was only teasing you in the hopes that it would make you panic and well… ask me. But, you never missed your chance.”
He smiled, bending down to kiss her lips, and was about to deepen it when she pulled away.
“Is something wrong?”
“I am not very good…” she admitted, biting her lip.
“At kissing?” He raised his brow. “That’s like you trying to not have perfect aim when throwing Chinese stars. Not possible.” He grinned, his palms splaying against her back as he pulled her closer. She stole a kiss from him before she replied.
“No,” she said, “dating.”
“Dating?”
“Yes. I am not very good at it.”
He smirked. “Now, I find that hard to believe.”
“It is true. I have never been able to make a relat-” she cleared her throat. It was far too soon to be using that word considering they’d barely had a conversation about where they stood. “I am romantically dysfunctional.”
“Not at all. Cuddling on the couch?” he gestured to their empty spots in the living room, where the television remained paused and the blanket they had been curled under together, strewn haphazardly on the seat. “Romantic. Kissing? Very romantic.’
“It has been years since I have been on a date.”
“So?”
“So, I am not sure I even have anything to wear.”
“Look, Ziva, you could go on this date dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie for all I care. As much as I love Tali, I just want to be alone with you, where we won’t be interrupted every thirty minutes by our daughter wanting a snack, or one of us to dress up in a tutu and play with stuffed animals. I want an evening where we can sit in a restaurant with mood lighting, and share an overpriced bottle of wine that we could have bought from the supermarket for forty euros less. I want a night where we can be just us. Tony and Ziva, and not Tony and Ziva as mom and dad.”
She softly caressed his cheek as a grin appeared on her face. He really was charmingly persuasive, not that she had needed much of it, because despite her hesitancy, she was going to say yes anyway.
“When would you like to go?”
“Saturday too soon?”
“Saturday is perfect.”
“These are for you,” he said, offering her the bouquet. “But you already know that.”
She smiled, gently taking them from him and holding them close to her face, her eyes closing as she inhaled their scent and she could only wonder by the way he was looking at her, if he somehow knew that she had never been given flowers before. He was the first for so many things. The first man to have ever bought her flowers on a date. The first man she had ever opened up to about her sister, Tali. The first and only man to have brought her the opera when it had sold out, because he knew how much it meant to her to honour her sister’s memory. The first and only man she had ever truly been in love with.
“They’re beautiful,” she commented as she lowered them, catching his eye.
“So are you.” Wow, that was cheesy, DiNozzo, he thought, flashing her a charming smile in the hope that she wouldn’t cringe at his words the way he was inside. A giggle escaped her and she rolled her eyes. Huh, so cheesy works on ninja’s. Good to know. She stood on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek, allowing her lips to linger. His skin burned beneath the feel of her lips and he wondered if she noticed the slight catch in his breath at the way it still felt strange (but amazing) to be openly affectionate with her, and have the same in return.
“I shall put these in water before we go,” she said, rhetorically, not giving him a chance to respond before she quickly walked into the kitchen and pulled the only vase that was currently unoccupied with flowers from the cabinet. He gave her a small hum of acknowledgement as she filled the vase with water and delicately placed them inside. She would arrange them tomorrow, but for the time being, it would do.
“Shall we?” he asked when she turned back to him, as he swiped his keys and wallet from the counter. A soft smile crossed her face as she walked to the entryway where he was now standing, and a sharp exhale escaped her as his warm palm found the small of her back, gently guiding her to the door.
“Are you okay?” he asked, watching as she stared at him beneath the intimate glow of the lighting in the restaurant.
It was a fairly small establishment, and she could understand why Tony had chosen it. The waiter had sat them at the back of the restaurant, where the light from the sconces cast a warm glow upon the tables decorated in white cloths, with a single stem of a flower in a vase and a small tealight, as a centerpiece. It wasn’t anything too romantic, and yet, it was far more intimate than any other dinner they had ever shared before.
Every now and then when he turned his head, she caught a glimpse of his younger self and her heart raced. If someone had told her fifteen years ago that she would be on a date in a Parisian restaurant with Tony DiNozzo, she probably would have scoffed at the idea and rolled her eyes. And yet, as she watched the way he smiled at her, she couldn’t imagine being anywhere else, nor did she want to be.
“Good,” she mumbled, her breath shaky and her eyes unable to meet his. “I am just-”
“Nervous?”
“Am I that obvious?” she laughed.
“Well, you haven’t been able to look at me since we sat down, and I haven’t seen you this flustered since you were practicing that speech for that school.”
“Oh,” she nodded, surprised he would remember such a thing. “I’m sorry, I-”
He smiled, leaning over the table and pressing a soft, slow kiss to her mouth. When he pulled away, confusion crossed her face. “What was that for?” she asked as her gaze settled on his lips.
“Relax,” he whispered, softly, “it’s just me.”
“Exactly,” she nodded, her eyes finally settling on him for the first time since they arrived. “It is you. I do not want to mess this up.”
“What makes you think you’re going to mess this up?”
“As I said the other day, it has been a very long time since I have been on a first date. What if I say the wrong thing, or…”
“Ziva,” he smiled, “listen to me. No matter how this goes, we’re still going home together. You could stab me with that fork,” he nodded to the cutlery on the table, “and this wouldn’t even come close to being in the tip ten worst dates I’ve ever had.”
“Really?” He nodded as she scrunched her nose, curious. “What is the worst date you’ve ever had?”
He laughed. He couldn’t deny that it felt somewhat strange to be talking about his dating history with her, mostly because he felt like he was being unfaithful in some way. And yet, he knew that she wasn’t asking because she was jealous or worried about him running off with someone else. They had to reason to be jealous anymore. After fifteen years, they knew almost everything about each other, and it was the only territory neither of them had ever really discussed – outside of the venting or passing comments over the years, when one (or both of them) were dating somebody, and they needed advice, a friend, or simply to yell into the metaphorical void. But if they were going to have as normal of a relationship as possible, they needed to be transparent and open, regardless of how uncomfortable it might make them.
“Oooh, let’s see. Aside from the time I took the daughter of an international arms dealer out on a breakfast date and got my car blown up by our old favourite CIA agent Bent Trent?” he began, mentally noting how Ziva’s body tensed at the memory. Was it because of Kort, or was it because of Jeanne? Either way, he would ask her some day. “I think the winner would have to be the time a woman threw up on me immediately after I kissed her. Nothing kills the moment quite like vomit on a suit.” Ziva covered her mouth, stifling her laugh. “I’m not that bad of a kisser, am I?”
“Hmm,” she hummed, the corners of her lips turning up into a smirk as they eased into the conversation with a familiarity that made her relax. A sudden surge of confidence swelled in her chest. “I may need reminding, in order to make an accurate comment.”
He smirked back, beckoning her close with his index finger, which made her heart thump erratically. She leaned across the table, his hand finding her hair. He paused for a moment, his gaze settling on her lips. Then, their mouths met, slowly at first until he deepened the kiss, and heavy breaths meddled with tongues. She resisted the urge to moan as her hand slid to his hair, for though they were mostly alone and virtually shielded from everyone and everything at the back of the restaurant, she was still mindful that they were, in fact, in public.
When they pulled apart, a smile spread across her face. “Well?”
She bit her lip, playfully, not knowing what had come over her. Perhaps it was the feeling burning in her stomach, of the way she had felt fifteen summers prior – how daring and uninhibited she had been when it came to… them. Back then, she hadn’t even thought twice about her hand slowly grazing against his thigh beneath the table, to palm his cock through the fabric of his jeans. And though they were older now, she couldn’t help but wonder if that same boldness still existed within her.
“I need another, just to be extra certain of my thoughts.”
His smirk grew as he brought his face close to hers, their noses softly grazing each other. He lingered, his warm breath ticklish against her skin, as their chests rose and fell in synchronicity, inhaling the moment. She closed her eyes as their foreheads touched, allowing her other senses to take control. She focused her mind on his fingertips, absentmindedly caressing her scalp as his hand tangled in her hair, and the scent of his cologne – amber and sandalwood – permeating the air. Though there was a quiet hum of voices coming from the more densely populated areas of the restaurant, she willed her mind to focus on him: on the way his touch made her breath shallow, and pulse quicken. As their lips finally touched, her entire body tingled – an electric current surging through her, intensified by the taste of the sweet berries of red wine on his tongue, as it slipped into her mouth. This time, she allowed herself the freedom to moan into the kiss, no longer caring about onlookers should anyone walk past them. Because why would she when he kissed her like that?
Her hands found his hair again and she tugged lightly, a sure sign of approval. And, if it hadn’t been for the shy and timid waiter standing above them who cleared his throat, causing them to pull apart abruptly, they would have continued.
The young man was no more than twenty, and hovered awkwardly as a blush creepy up his cheeks in secondhand embarrassment. It wasn’t the first couple he had walked up to who were making out at a table, but it was certainly the most intense display of affection he had stumbled upon in his time. And while he had debated for several moments as to whether to leave them be, he knew from his limited experience that after several minutes, it was bound to make other diners uncomfortable and he had enough to deal with on Valentine’s Day, without needing to add complaints to the list.
“Monsieur? Madame?” the waister asked. “Would you like some wine for the table?”
“The best bottle of red you have, please,” Tony replied with a nod. He knew it would total at around three hundred euros, having extensively researched beforehand. Perhaps it was too extravagant, and he could have chosen something cheaper (which Ziva would surely tell him should she ever find out – the reason why he also planned on never letting her see the bill, so as not to be the recipient of her disapproving glare), but she was worth it. Too many men had let her down in the past, and if this happened to be the only date they would go on, then he wanted to do everything he could to show her how much he appreciated and cared for her.
He smiled apologetically to the waiter, guilty about the display he just witnessed. Ziva touched her fingertips to her lips, her cheeks flushing red.
“And any food for you?”
Tony hesitated. “We haven’t looked yet.”
The waiter nodded. “No problem, I will give you more time.” He turned on his heels, the cloth draped over his arm and rolled his eyes. A taller waiter, who stood behind the bar cleaning a glass, gave him a smug smile, no doubt on account of him being the unlucky sod who got to spend his evening serving the two not-quite-but-might-as-well-be lovers.
“Well,” Tony began when the waiter was far enough out of earshot, “that was..”
She cleared her throat, nodding with a smile. “Quite something.”
“And?” he asked. She raised her eyebrow. “How was the kiss?”
She laughed. “I did not need another to be sure that you are an excellent kisser.”
A chuckle escaped him. Even after all this time, she knew exactly what she was doing. He dropped his voice lower, so only she could hear. “So, we just made out at the table and made a poor guy uncomfortable for no reason?”
She shook her head. “No for no reason. I enjoy kissing you,” she grinned. “We have not kissed like that in… years, and I wanted to do it again.”
“You know I’m yours right?” he said so casually, that the air rushed from her lungs. “If you want me to kiss you like that, all you have to do is ask.”
You know I’m yours, right? She didn’t know why the admission came unexpectedly to her, as he had made it very evident over the last two months that he wasn’t interested in anybody else. And yet, it sent a feeling rushing through her that caused a beaming smile to plaster itself on her face. He was hers. Her man. The love of her life. She was the woman he wanted to be with.
They sat in relative silence when the waiter returned, red wine in a bucket of ice tucked under his arm. He popped the cork, and poured them both a glass before leaving the bucket on the table, and rolling his eyes as he walked away.
“Anyway,” he coughed, “I believe we were telling each other our worst date stories. Your turn, Miss David.”
“You already know mine,” she shrugged, as her smile turned sad. “Can it get any worse than being alone in a restaurant for three hours, waiting for the guy to show up?” Truthfully, she hadn’t thought about that date in years. She had no real reason to. To her, it was a different lifetime. Ray was serving life in prison and meant nothing to her, and if she was being entirely honest, she couldn’t be sure that he ever really had. The only man she knew for certain that she had genuinely loved, was the one currently sitting opposite her, gazing at her like she was his whole entire universe.
“God, I hate him. Like I actually hate him. He was such an asshole to you.”
“You do not need to hate him. It was a long time ago.”
“I know I don’t need to, but I do. I swear, if he ever gets out of prison, which I hope he doesn’t, the first thing I’m going to do is shoot him.”
“Well, come on now, I don’t need another boyf-” she paused, “I don’t need you going to prison too. And besides, haven’t you shot enough of my exes?”
He spluttered as he choked on his wine. “Really?” he asked, amused, raising his eyebrow. She laughed as she slowly sipped on her drink.
“Though,” she said, lowering her glass, “I have to ask. Why did you not dissuade him from proposing to me?” It was a question she had longed to ask him. Perhaps because she couldn’t understand his motives, though after what happened with Rivkin, she knew better than to second guess them. She knew that she and Tony had been… something. More than friends. Sure, they hadn’t been lovers in a traditional sense, despite their somewhat on-and-off friends with benefits scenario. But, she had learned that when it came to her, if Tony DiNozzo did (or didn’t) do something, you trusted him.
“You were happy,” he shrugged, biting his lip. “You were my best friend – you still are – and I wasn’t going to suddenly be the world’s most unsupportive prick by telling you he wasn’t good enough for you. You loved him, you wanted to be with him, and he made you happy. Your happiness was – is - all I care about.”
She gulped. He really was an incredibly good man. “He didn’t… make me happy.” Tony raised an eyebrow, contesting her remark. “I thought he did, but he didn’t. Couldn’t.” She hesitated. “He was not you.”
“What?” he asked, surprise laced in his voice.
“When I told you that story about Ray standing me up, you were understanding, of course you were. But I,” she sighed, “I wanted you to tell me that he didn’t deserve me. I wanted you to tell me that I should have called you and you would have been there. I wanted you to tell me that it should have been you on that date, and that you were the one I should be with.”
“You really needed me to tell you all of that, as if it wasn't something you already knew? We both know I would have come if you had called.”
She nodded. “I spent the whole three hours imagining that you were sitting across from me, much like you are now and that…” she bowed her head to look at the table, her fingertip gently nudging the cutlery back into place.
“I wish you had,” he said, his fingers softly reaching out to tilt her head upwards to look at him. “I wish you had called me.” She nodded as she watched him pick up his glass, and she mirrored him, taking her own in his hands. “But that’s in the past and all that matters is that we’re here together, now. And I promise that no matter what happens, I’ll always be here as your friend, co-parent,” he paused, apprehensive of defining themselves as anything more. “It’s you and me.”
“You and me,” she toasted, raising her glass to his.
“To… us?” he repeated back, clinking their glasses together before they both took a sip, their eyes locked intensely on each other’s.
As she lowered her glass, he felt the confession on the tip of his tongue. “I love you, Ziva.” The words slipped from his lips with ease, as if he had said them to her every single day since they met. Of course, he hoped they wouldn’t come as a shock to her, because after all this time, he thought he made it perfectly clear to her how he felt, even if he hadn’t actually said it. And yet, he waited anxiously for her reaction. Perhaps it was too soon to tell her.
She froze, her eyes growing wide and her mouth parting in surprise at the unexpected declaration. Then, the corners of her mouth twitched before the widest grin crossed her face and her cheeks flushed scarlet.
“I love you too,” she replied. She knew her cheeks would ache tomorrow, but the giddy feeling inside her was worth it. He made her feel like a teenager again. A hopelessly in love, teenager.
“You do? Really?” he asked, beaming.
She giggled. “Yes, of course I do. How could you even question that?”
“Well, you know, we’ve never actually said it to each other.”
“I did not think it needed to be said,” she replied, raising an eyebrow. “Actions speak as loud as words.”
He smiled. “Like the fact we have a six and a half year old daughter?”
“Would you say that she was conceived out of anything other than love?”
Flashes of their sweat-laden skin intertwined together beneath white sheets, for the fifth or sixth time during his stay, flickered across his eyes. The sound of her moaning in his ear as she climaxed on top of him, seeped into his consciousness. As did the vivid memory of him pulling her into a tear-soaked kiss afterward, while he held her in his arms, the two of them all too aware of what it meant. In the restaurant, the look on Ziva’s face as she gazed at him, told him that she was remembering the same.
“No,” he shook his head. “Unless heartbreak counts.”
A wave of guilt washed over her as she remembered his vulnerability in the orchard when he had asked her to stay, out of nothing but love for her, and she had broken his heart in unimaginable ways.
“For a heart has to be broken,” she stated, “it has to be whole.”
“And I was looking at my whole heart seven and half years ago, and asking her to stay with me.” He reached his hand out to cup her face, the pad of his thumb softly wiping a tear that slipped from her eye. “For the record, I don’t regret a second of it.”
“Not even…?”
“Especially not that. Tali may have been a surprise, but she wasn’t a mistake, Ziva. She’s the best thing to have ever happened to me… to us, and I would go right back to Be’er Sheva and have my heart broken by you all over again, if that’s what it meant.”
“I do not want to break your heart again, Tony.”
“I know,” he nodded. And he did. “I don’t want to break yours either. You’ve been hurt by too many people, and I don’t ever want to be the source of that pain.”
She gave him a small smile. “You may not have a choice in that,” she replied, her fingertips reaching out to gently stroke his jaw. “Sometimes the people we love have good, well-meant intentions but still end up hurting us.” Were they still talking about them, or was she talking about herself?
“I can’t promise that we won’t have bad days when we’re angry or upset, or close to hating each other,” he said, earnestly, “but I can promise that I won’t intentionally do anything to hurt you. I would never do anything to disrespect you or our daughter.”
“Is that why you have not been with anyone?”
He pulled back, lowering his hand, surprised by her bluntness.
“How did you-”
“Adam was keeping tabs on you. Not to invade your privacy, but simply for my own peace of mind, to make sure that you and Tali were safe. It was too risky for me to do it by myself for too long. He wasn’t watching you constantly, but every few months he would report back to me about you, and sometimes show me photos he took from a distance, like ones of you at the park, or somewhere else you had chosen to take her. But, in all that time, he never mentioned you being with another woman.”
“You think he would have told you that, even if I had?”
She nodded. “I do. I know you love me, Tony, but Adam did too. Granted, I did not reciprocate those feelings, and he had always known that you are the one who has my heart. But, he also knew that I would want to know something like that, as it would have changed things.”
“Like you deciding to come to Paris?”
“No,” she shook her head. “Tali would have still been here. Even if you did not want to be with me, I would not have wanted to stay apart from her any longer.”
“Well, you have nothing to worry about because I do want to be with you,” he paused. “But in answer to your question, yes. It’s the reason I haven’t been with anyone else since I found out about Tali. Knowing you were out there… it would have felt like I was being unfaithful to you.”
“But we were not ever really together . I did not expect you to be celibate.”
“I know. But no matter what happens, you’re still the mother of my daughter. Even the idea of sleeping with somebody else just felt… wrong. And it would have been the biggest insult to Tali, considering how much we talked about you, constantly. Though you weren’t here, in a lot of ways it felt like you were, and it… as I said, it would have felt like I was cheating on you, somehow. And I might be many things, but I’m not a cheater.” He paused. “Tali has always been my main priority.”
“I know that, and you are the most wonderful father to her. But I would not have blamed you if you had been with someone else,” she admitted. “I was half anticipating it – to come back to you in a relationship. You did not know how long I would be gone or if I would ever come back and… well, you have needs. Companionship. Sex. ”
“I had a father that put his needs over me when I was a kid. Don’t get me wrong, he’s made up for it since. He’s a wonderful grandpa to Tali, but I was never going to follow in his footsteps. You remember how strained our relationship was for many years. I wouldn’t ever want to put Tali through what I went through as a kid – wondering if she was palmed off on the nanny because her father wanted to screw some random woman he met. She knows that she does and always will come first, no matter what.” His lips twitched. “Besides, I don’t want to sleep with anyone but you – literally and figuratively.” He bit his lip. “While we’re on the topic, why are you still sleeping in the spare room?”
“You know why.”
“I know you said you don’t want to encroach on mine and Tali’s space, but that’s not a good enough reason, Ziva. It’s your home too. You’re not encroaching on anything.”
“We agreed to take things slow, yes? One day at a time?”
“I’ve spent too long on my own and my bed feels gigantic without you. We don’t have to do anything, Ziva. I just… call me crazy, but I just want to share a bed with the woman I love, even if all we do is sleep. Please?”
I just want to share a bed with the woman I love.
“Tali has never seen you share a bed with anybody. And you said sometimes she wakes up and comes in during the night?”
“So, don’t sleep naked and you’ll be fine,” he joked.
“You really want me to sleep with you, don’t you?’
“Yes,” he replied, perhaps a little too quickly, earning himself a giggle, “in every way that ‘sleep with you’ can be interpreted. But one thing at a time. Right now, I just want to wake up with you beside me, and not have the momentary seconds of panic every single morning until I hear the coffee pot buzzing, wondering if I’d made it all up in my head, or you’ve done a runner.”
Her eyes flickered between his gaze on his lips and his eyes, as she contemplated his words, before leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his mouth. It had been months and it wasn’t like they hadn’t ever shared a bed before… or more. Their daughter was proof of that. And truthfully, after years of sleeping alone, she was tired of it too, and desperately aching for his touch in ways she never had before.
“Okay,” she nodded.
“Okay, what ?”
“Okay, I will share your bed… with you. ” She slowly dragged her index finger down his chest, before toying with the buttons on his shirt and bringing her lips close to his ear. He shivered as he felt her breath on his skin, and he had to remind himself to breathe, too. “What do you say we get out of here?”
“We haven’t even eaten yet.”
“We have food at home,” she paused, “and maybe I am hungry for something else right now.”
She retreated slightly, biting her lip.
“Ziva-”
“I know you are tired of going at a slug’s pace, Tony. And honestly, so am I.”
“ Snail. Snail’s pace,” he corrected. “Are you sure you’re ready for this? I mean, it’s only been three months…”
“And we were naked together less than eight weeks after we met,” she raised her eyebrow. “Your point?”
He laughed. “My point is this… that is a massive step.”
“One we have taken before.”
“But not like this.”
She sighed. “Since when did sex become such a big deal for you?"
He swallowed. "Since it stopped being just sex with you." Her eyes widened slightly, as he continued. “It might not be how you remember. It’s been a while.”
“It has been a long time for me, too… not since we…” she paused. “I am not expecting it to be mind-blowing.”
“Wow,” he laughed, “have a little faith in me, would you?”
She rolled her eyes. “I know it will likely be different for both of us. But I want us to be together that way. I do not want just a couple of kisses here and there. I want a relationship… with you.”
“So do I,” he smiled. “God, I’ve wanted it for so long.”
“I know,” she whispered, kissing him softly. “And I do not want us to wait anymore.”
“Well then,” he replied, “let's pay for this wine and get the hell out of here.’
“You have to let me-”
His cock inadvertently twitched in his trousers at the feeling of her hand digging in his front pocket to retrieve the house keys, and he hoped she wouldn’t notice (she did) as he smirked at her eagerness.
She giggled as she pulled them free, turning towards the door. The glow of the street lamp from across the road was the only source of light as she went to unlock it, the keyhole suddenly being obscured in the shadow of Tony’s tall frame as he shifted to stand behind her.
His fingers tickled as he moved her hair to one side, exposing the skin of her neck to him. He dipped his head, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the crook of her neck, observing the way goosebumps raised on her skin. A small sigh escaped her as her body relaxed beneath his lips, and her eyes fluttered shut. He slipped his arms around her waist as he slowly trailed kisses up to the sensitive spot beneath her ear.
The keys hovered against the metal as she clenched her fingers around them, forcing herself to open her eyes.
“Tony-” His name fell from her lips as more of a whisper, to which he smirked.
“Hmmm?” he mumbled against her skin, making no attempt to stop what he was doing. A moan almost escaped her, as his lips grazed her jawline.
“That is not helpful.”
“I respectfully disagree.” His lips returned to her neck as she inserted the key and turned the lock, though his mouth momentarily detached from her skin as she turned the handle and pushed the door open. His hand splayed gently across the small of her back, not wanting to break contact completely as they stepped across the threshold and shut the door behind them. She turned back to lock it from the inside and got as far as inserting the keys when she felt his strong, gentle hands on her hips. A sharp breath escaped her as he spun her around, pinning her back against the doorframe. Flashes of fourteen summers prior came in quick succession – of Tony pinning her against the wall of her first apartment in DC, his eyes dark with desire as he dropped to his knees, wanting to discover every way she could say his name as he explored her with his tongue, and she came undone above him. Her pulse quickened at the memory, despite knowing the present-day Tony was unlikely to make such a move (at least, she didn’t anticipate him doing so), for though there were two decades of comfort and familiarity between them, they were, perhaps, more sexually inhibited than their younger counterparts… for now.
He removed his hands from her waist and brought them to the sides of her face, cupping it in his hands before he slowly slipped them back, to tangle in her hair. She could taste her heartbeat in her mouth, already feeling naked beneath his gaze as his eyes gradually trailed over her, from head to toe. She willed herself to breathe, grinning wider than she ever had done before as he leaned in, his lips lightly grazing her own.
Her stomach fluttered at the contact, the touch so delicate she wondered if it even happened at all, until he repeated the movement, this time firmly pressing his lips into hers. She lightly raked her hands through his hair, her fingertips softly clenching around the spiky strands as his tongue slipped into her mouth. The slight tugging of her hair as he pressed his body firmly against his, caused her to moan, her hands sliding down his neck to his chest as she hurriedly worked to undo the first few buttons of his shirt.
“Ziva,” he said, soft and low as he broke their kiss, “we’re not even in the apartment yet.”
“And whose fault is that?” she replied with a smirk, stealing another kiss as her cool fingertips danced over the skin peeking out of the open fabric.
Kiss. “We should-” Kiss.
He momentarily pulled his lips from hers, just long enough to lock the door and retrieved the keys, before grabbing her by the hand, and dragging her in a haste up the winding stairs to their apartment. When they reached their door, he felt her press a kiss to his back through his shirt as he hurriedly unlocked their front door, barely having time to think after they crossed the threshold and slamming it shut behind them, before she pushed him back against the wall and worked at the remaining closed buttons on his shirt.
As she went to slide it off his shoulders, he gently grabbed her wrists. She froze in surprise, gulping, before he kissed her. “Slow down,” he whispered, softly, “slow.” Her brain turned foggy as he closed the distance between them.
“I thought after nearly three months, you would be eager?”
“I am,” he replied, “but eager doesn’t mean fast. ” He dipped his head, lightly sucking at the pulse point on her neck, her body melting into him as he dragged his lips softly, and almost excruciatingly slowly, across her collarbone. She gasped as he spun them around in one smooth move, pinning her against the wall, and his hands caressing her curves, admiring the way she fit perfectly in his hands. She closed her eyes as his lips dropped close to her ear, her fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt to steady herself, afraid the sound of his sultry, sexy voice would be enough to cause her knees to buckle. A fire burned in her abdomen as he whispered, seductively. “We have all night.” His words were followed by a soft kiss beneath her ear, and her fingers clenched even tighter. God, he would be the undoing of her.
When she opened her eyes, she found him gazing at her lovingly, with a lopsided smile on his face. She didn’t think either of them had ever smiled quite so much in their lives as they had during the course of the evening. But perhaps that was how you knew when you were truly in love. “All… night” she drawled, in a way that made his pants uncomfortably tight. She glanced down to his chest as she allowed her index finger to trace a vertical line, the length of his bare torso, stopping right before the waistband of his trousers. “Hmm,” she hummed, satisfied.
He swallowed as she tugged on the fabric of his shirt and guided them to his — their — bedroom. The glow of the streetlamp illuminated the room just enough that he could make out the soft smile on her face, as her hands trailed beneath the cotton and pulled it off his shoulders. When his chest was finally exposed to her, she licked her lips, pressing a kiss just above his heart; the navy fabric draped haphazardly around his arms as they came to rest on her hips. She tilted her head up to catch Tony’s gaze, drowning in his pools of laurel green as she tugged the shirt off his arms and threw it to the side, without breaking their eye contact.
Slowly, and in a way that was almost painful on account of the heat building in his body, her fingers worked at the buckle of his belt, the metal clanking as it came undone. She tugged it free and it joined his shirt on the floor, as his hands came to the nape of her neck to pull her up for a kiss, desperate and passionate. He guided his lips back to her neck and a breathy sigh escaped her when his hands moved to her back, finding the zipper of her dress and carefully sliding it down.
He lifted his head, his fingers caressing the exposed skin of her neck, and sliding them beneath the black fabric hugging her shoulders, to pull the garment down until a greater area of skin on her collarbone was accessible to him. The dress dropped to her waist, leaving her upper body clothed in nothing but her black lacy bra, her breath hitching and her eyes fleetingly fluttering shut when he dipped his head to place an open-mouthed kiss between her cleavage. She felt the wetness begin to pool between her legs when he repeated the motion, his hands gliding over her body until they reached the clasp of her bra. He lifted his head for several seconds, catching her eyes and partially lifting his brow, silently asking for consent. When she nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, he unclasped and licked his lips, delicately sliding the straps off her shoulders and down her arms, letting it fall to the floor beneath them. Her skin was ablaze beneath his touch, and she fought the urge to cover herself as her breasts were finally exposed to him. “God,” he breathed, all other vocabulary getting lost in his brain as he admired her. So perfect. Coyly, she stood in front of him as his eyes danced over her. It had been a long time since she had been naked in front of him, and though she knew he would be nothing but gentle and kind to her body and to her, there was something about the way he was staring at her — his eyes dark and lips pink, like he wanted nothing more than to devour every inch of her — that made her feel incredibly vulnerable. It was a contrasting feeling to that of the once extremely confident version of herself in her younger years; the version of herself who had indulged her deepest fantasies during one very hot and wild summer, blindfolding him and allowing her tongue to explore every inch of his cock, before repeatedly riding him to his climax.
Her heart palpitated and she sucked in a breath as he reached out his index finger to trace the curve of her breasts, and the dip in her cleavage. He lightly tapped the pad of his finger on a small mole, and kissed it, before his mouth covered her nipple. “Oh,” she moaned quietly as he sucked it like a lollipop, revelling in the feeling of her in his mouth, and peppering kisses around the skin. One hand found the curve of his ass as the tip of his tongue licked his way to the opposite breast, her hands gripping onto the waistband of his trousers as her body shuddered, her knees threatening to give way beneath her.
He smiled against her skin, trailing kisses back to her mouth before hungrily capturing her lips and leading her back onto the bed. When her back was flat against the mattress, he pulled their lips apart much to her dismay, and hovered over her, before rising to his feet and standing at the edge of the bed. Slowly, he pulled her free from her dress inch by inch, placing kisses across every new section of skin that was gradually revealed to him, like unwrapping the world’s most delicious candy that he had been waiting years in anticipation to indulge in.
A shaky sigh slipped through the partial opening of her mouth as he dropped to his knees and kissed his way across her feet, sliding them out from her heels and tossing the shoes to one side. God, she had forgotten how attentive of a lover he was; how he remembered every small detail that turned her on. He knew her body so intimately, in a way that none of her previous lovers ever did. Perhaps it was because she felt infinitely safe with Tony, that with him and only him (and perhaps because of their history, too), she could be the most authentic version of herself. She allowed every wild part of her to come undone beneath his touch, freeing every moan and was not ashamed to ask for what she wanted, to give her the most pleasure imaginable. And Tony being Tony, had always been happy to oblige. Not only because he adored the shamelessly sexy side of her that took control, but more importantly, he wanted to know everything that made her chest rise and a fall erratically, and where exactly to place his tongue in order to have her toes curling, and her hands gripping bed sheets, because he loved watching her fall apart beneath him. He made love to her. And very few things made him more satisfied than having her scream his name, knowing he was responsible for an orgasm that had her eyes rolling back into her head and physically exhausted from her body trembling non-stop for minutes.
The sound of her heartbeat in her ears merged with her breathing as his hands caressed her tanned legs, stopping at her knees and gently pushing them apart. He smirked, eyeing the wet patch of her panties and quickly glanced up at her, before he dragged his lips across the tattoo on her inner thigh. A moan slipped free when he lightly nipped it with his teeth, before soothing it with his tongue. He shifted himself to a more comfortable position as he settled himself properly between her legs, pressing a kiss to her core over the fabric of her underwear. “ Fuck ,” she strained out. His tongue teased her through the black lace, already soaked and dripping with her juices, and he hummed in satisfaction at how little he had to do to turn her on — something he took as the highest compliment.
His warm breath felt like fire on her already burning skin as he exhaled, hooking his fingers under the waistband of her panties and gliding them down to her ankles. His eyes sparkled as he took in the sight of her, so aroused and aching for him. It had been years since they had been like this, and yet he had every part of her deeply ingrained into his memory. What she liked. What made her squirm beneath him. Where he needed to suck and how to move his tongue to make her climax until her legs quivered.
He spread her thighs even further, as wide as they would go, so he had a better view of her sex. She nearly yelped as the tip of his tongue darted out, tracing the shape of her folds, so lightly, but with enough pressure to have her hand flying to his hair, in expectation of where his tongue would be moving to next. After all, she needed something to grip onto when he made her see stars.
He carefully parted her folds, the pad of his thumb lightly brushing over her clit which made her jolt. A devilish grin appeared on his face as he looked up at her from between her legs, and she swallowed as his eye contact remained steady, his tongue meeting her nub and sucking at it. “ Shit,” she cursed as his tongue circled her core, varying in pressure and pattern until she started to writhe beneath him. When she did, his palms settled on her abdomen to hold her steady. He was going to make her come, and he wanted her to feel every second of it.
He removed his lips from her sex in order to insert his finger, curling it in a come hither motion to stroke her g-spot. He lightly chuckled as she nearly kicked him in the head when her legs jerked unexpectedly, as he found just the right rhythm that he knew would have beads of sweat prickling at her skin. She was half tempted to breathe out a “sorry” to him, but the word died on her tongue when she tilted her head back, reveling in the sheer pleasure surging through her; a feeling only intensified when his lips returned to suck at her clit, every movement and motion working in harmony to slowly bring her to the edge. A tingle began deep inside her, creeping across her stomach and down her legs until she was entirely unaware of the sound of her moaning and panting, the feeling building up like a wave, threatening to crash over her and sweep her out to sea. She tugged his hair, gently pushing his head down as he dipped his tongue further into her slit.
“Tony… ”
His name fell off her tongue in the most erotic manner he had ever heard, as her legs began to tremble. “ Oh god, ” she moaned, almost breathless. "Y-yes..."
Strands of hair clung to clammy skin as she arched her back, silently pleading for more, her hips bucking in response. Her fingers tightened in his hair and the others gripped the soft white bedsheets as she muttered to herself in an amalgamation of languages. Her clit throbbed beneath Tony's mouth as he continued to suck, and she panted hard as she tumbled off the edge, her juices gushing onto his tongue.
She collpased back against the mattress, her chest rising and falling erratically as her arm came to rest on her foreheard. Holy shit.
He grinned as he came to hover above her, before bending down to kiss her deeply, the taste of herself lingering on his tongue. Her fingertips fumbled with the zipper of his pants, yanking it down with urgency. In one quick motion, and without breaking their kiss, he flipped them over, tresses of her brunette hair cascading around their faces as she straddled him, momentarily pulling her lips away to release her giggle.
“I forgot how good you were at that,” she whispered, planting another kiss on his lips.
“The flip, or the thing with my tongue?” he asked, grinning.
“Both,” she breathed, missing the contact of their lips. She captured them again, tongues meeting seconds later, as her hands travelled down his torso and across his stomach, towards his groin. He muttered a strained “fuck” between kisses when her fingers slipped inside his boxers, palming his length in her hand.
“Keep that up and this won’t last much longer,” he laughed. Though they did have all night, because for the first time since her return they were entirely child-free for the whole weekend, his cock was extremely aware of how long it had been since they’d been together, the urge to satisfy his need – for her – growing tenfold by the second.
She rolled her eyes, sliding her hands to his shoulders as she dipped her head to kiss his neck. His breathing laboured when she sucked in a way that was sure to leave a mark – not that he cared in the slightest because he would wear it proudly, even if it did invite a lot of questions by their daughter, and his co-workers. The blood rushed from his head when her lips moved to his collarbone, retreating only to hook her fingers beneath the waistband of his pants, and tug on them. With little success, she attempted to shimmy them off his hips and nearly sighed in frustration, until he smiled, helping her remove them the rest of the way, along with his boxers.
When they joined the other items of clothes on the floor, she swallowed, glancing down at his cock, and absentmindedly licked her lips as she admired how aroused he was already. He stretched his arm towards the bedside drawer, before her hand reached out to stop him.
“No, don’t,” she spoke softly with a smile, knowing exactly what he was attempting to retrieve; the thing he’d hidden there several days after they had kissed… just in case.
“Ziva-”
She dropped her lips close to his ear, and his heart pounded at the feeling of her breath on his skin. “I want to feel you. All of you.”
“Is that wise? I mean, the last time we did that–”
“I’m covered.” He raised an eyebrow, quizzically. “You bought those several days after we kissed,” she smirked, “and I took… similar precautions. Just in case.” He chuckled. Of course she was as prepared for this as he was. She dropped her head, lightly grazing his lips with her own. “Please,” she whispered.
His heart lurched as the request fell from her mouth, a replica of the last time she had asked…
He was tempted to protest and yet, as he watched her gazing at him with love and adoration, he could do nothing except pull her down for a kiss; barely able to blink before she rolled her hips against his, and he groaned at the friction. Her lips parted just a fraction as their eyes locked, and she slowly sank down onto him, his length filling her entirely.
“ Jesus, Ziva, ” he breathed, her walls were warm and aching for him, as she slowly rocked her hips back and forth. He watched her nipples harden, as his hands roamed her curves, indulging in the pleasure of their bodies being connected, skin-on-skin for the first time in years. Neither could have imagined how good the friction and the feeling would have felt, and it took everything in him to not reach his climax too soon, wanting it to last as long as possible – for himself, and for her.
Their hands intertwined, fingers interlacing as she moved faster, grinding her pelvis against his, as he softly thrusted to match her movements. Her fingers tightened around his as she applied more pressure, a guttural groan escaping him.
Her hands came to rest on his torso as she arched her body, tilting back as far as she could.
“God, yes." He wasn't sure which of them had moaned as it mixed with their heavy breaths, but Ziva gasped at the change in angle of his cock inside her, as he sat up, and her legs came to wrap around his waist. His hands splayed across her bare back as she moved on top of him, varying the pattern and direction of her hips, gradually increasing in speed as the tingle began deep in her abdomen. He kissed across her chest, taking each of her nipples into his mouth and sucking lightly, before capturing her lips, as she pushed them both further to the edge. He wrapped his arms around her, his fingers stroking her back as her breasts pressed against his chest.
“Ziva,” he moaned, as his length throbbed inside her, his body excruciatingly close to euphoria. “I’m-“
“I know,” she whispered against his lips as she continued to rock against him. His cock pulsated as they matched one another's rhythm, intertwined with long, slow kisses. He dropped his lips to her shoulder as he thrusted deeply, her walls clenching around him. He groaned as he exploded inside her, their movements slowly stilling as they simultaneously drowned in pleasure.
She dropped her forehead to his shoulder and closed her eyes, as he pressed a kiss to her clammy skin. They remained wrapped in each other as minutes passed, as they regained their strength.
“Holy shit,” he whispered, still breathless, as she slid off his length and collapsed on the bed beside him. He lay back, his arm lazily draped above his head. Several seconds of comfortable silence passed between them before a giggle escaped her as she turned her head to look at him.
"Well, that was-“
“Quite something,” he repeated, echoing her words from earlier in the evening. Her giggle grew into a hearty chuckle as she buried her face in his torso, her cheeks flushing scarlet as she pulled the bedsheets around them. She pressed a kiss to his chest before he sat with his back resting against the headboard, and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. Goosepimples raised on her skin as his fingertips absentmindedly stroked her bare arm as she cuddled into him, her back firmy against her chest, before his hand found hers and he interlaced their fingers.
“Out of practice my ass,” she commented, tilting her head back slightly. He smirked, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.
“It’s true, I am. I googled how to do that.”
She rolled her eyes. “You have never needed Google to help you. You know your way around just fine.”
“Just fine? Wow… do I need to do that thing I did to you again? It's not much of a report card.”
“Room for improvement?”
He dropped his lips close to her ear. “Really?” he asked, his voice low and sultry. “You were wet before I even tasted you. Surely that says something about my… skills.”
She smirked. “Are you looking for an A+?”
“At this point I’ll settle for it being better than just fine,” he laughed.
“You know I am only teasing, yes? That was…” she paused, “rather spectacular. Better than the last time.”
“I should hope so. The last time we did that, we were saying goodbye.”
She leaned up to kiss him. “No more goodbyes. No matter what. Even if things get hard and complicated. I do not ever want to leave you again.”
“Me neither. Walking away from you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I don’t think I could do it again.”
“For both our sakes, I hope you never have to,” she paused, biting her lip as her expression turned serious. “I love you.”
“I know,” he smiled, softly stroking her hair with his free hand. “I love you too.”
“Out of interest…” she began, her fingertips tracing circles on the inside of his thigh, the bold and daring question on the tip of her tongue. “Do you have it in you for round two?”
She didn’t know why she felt so shy asking, and yet, another blush crept across her cheeks.
He smirked. “Ziva, we’re child free all weekend. We have so much time to make up for that I have about ten rounds in me.”
She laughed, stealing a kiss. “Good,” she nodded, whispering against his lips. “So do I.”