Disclaimer: Of course I don’t own them, I just like to fiddle with them. Some people play with dolls… I don’t claim to speak through any official channels for the show, production company, or actors and there is no profit being made.
Author’s Notes: Honest critique welcome, but please be gentle, I’m new
“What is your problem?” Ziva asks me.
She is in my space again. All of that “Moussad” (Whoop de doo) training… she surely has to know that being in close proximity to her drives me nuts.
Hopefully she just thinks it is just pissing me off, but it gets me so hot at the same time. I scowl at her, just because I want to fuck her doesn’t mean I’d give her the satisfaction. Everyone knows I have a brutal stubborn streak, but they don’t know how deep it runs - nor should they.
“Nothing.” I retort.
“Then what the hells?”
“Hell. Just one,” I fire back at her holding up a finger, and I’m in it.…but Ha! I corrected her English. That always annoys her. Not because we correct her as much as it makes her realize she doesn’t know everything and we know she doesn’t. A little payback!
She remains inches from my face though. She’s still annoyed, but a smile creeps up her face, almost like an animal being set loose from a cage, still wary, but free - and it knows where it’s going next.
Uh oh, she just ran her tongue over her lower lip. Oh why does she have to do that? The things a glimpse of that tongue does to me…
Shit, she knows. That’s why she did it. I can see it in her eyes. She knows that when she’s this close I just want to jump her, let her flip me over and have her way with me. Well if she can’t tell from my breathing, she can certainly hear my heart ramming against my sternum. I close my eyes and try to re-center but I can still feel her soft breath on my face.
“So what’s the story Abby?” She almost purrs almost to my mouth. I feel a flush creep up my neck.
I open my eyes and stare into two pools of night.
I hear the elevator ding. “Gibbs!” I blurt out. In the blink of an eye Ziva is 4 ft away looking at an evidence bag. Grrr.
“Ziva?” He asks.
“I don’t know Gibbs. She wouldn’t tell me anything until you got here.”
She twirled the evidence in her fingers. I walk over, take it from her, and put it back in its place on the table. She smirks and I have to pause a second to remember what I was doing. This is serious damnit!
I run it down: DNA - no hits yet in CODIS. Trace – trilobal fibers in the tape - the color suggests Ford Taurus 1992-95. Fingerprints - two partials - ran them through the federal crimnal database and got a Michael Sandstrom. He has a record, assault with a deadly weapon, first successful conviction in Minnesota under the ’93 state hate crimes law covering transgendered persons for attacking a transsexual man outside a club in downtown Minneapolis while yelling “God Hates Fags”.
“He hit him with a 2x4 and stomped on his hands Gibbs,” I finished. I really want to nail this guy to the wall, I don’t care where your politics lean, no one deserves that, and what he did to petty officer Johnston was even worse…We’ve gotta get this psycho off the street.
“Good work Abbs. Ziva,” Says Gibbs and gives her the hand signal to follow.
“Of course,” I say, “this is what I do and I do it well.”
As he walks out, Ziva follows. When his back is turned she sends me a smoldering look that says she isn’t finished with me yet. It jars me back out of science mode and I can feel the heat from that gaze melting everything off me from lab coat to tattoos, into a pool around my boots. Maybe I’ll worry less about not giving her the satisfaction and more about getting some satisfaction of my own…
I entered the elevator going over the case in my head. We got the guy and he confessed. Well - while yelling homophobic epithets at Gibbs. Apparently anyone who isn’t willing to accept his idea of religious vengeance was gay, therefore beneath him and deserved to die. Too bad for him those he considered beneath him were going to throw him in prison for a very long time. Looking up at the numbers above the door I begin to run down the evidence and procedures in my head. No way this guy is going free on a technicality. The doors slide closed, but as the car starts moving downward it suddenly lurches to a stop and the much dimmer emergency lights come on. Crap, now what?
Startled by a whisper of a sound, I look down just in time to see her approach. She forces me against the back wall, grabs my wrists and pins them up above my head. With my boots on she has to tip her head up a bit to look into my face, but it doesn’t lessen her command of the situation.
Within a breath she is crushing her lips to mine and I gasp and moan into her. Our mouths fight for the upper hand, then her tongue slides between my lips and curls behind my teeth. I still and let her explore. Penetrating deep into my mouth she finds all of my secret places and makes me imagine what that mouth could do to my clit. She’s getting me so wet…
She straddles my leg and presses into me. My thigh flexes involuntarily against her, into her heat. My skirt is short enough that it’s my skin on her cargo pants. Oh yeah, she wants me too.
Taking my wrists with one hand she uses the other to ignite an electrical storm through me by plucking at my nipple through my shirt. My body arches against her touch but her grip on my wrists holds me in place. She pinches a little too hard. I squeak, and I want more. I want whatever she’ll give me.
She bites my bottom lip, and mumbles, “should we take this somewhere?”
“No,” I say firmly, she pulls back an inch and a brief look of dismay crosses her face, but I add, “Right here, right now.”
A growl comes from deep inside her and her teeth clamp down on the web tattooed along my neck as she pinches my nipple even harder. I hear a sound come out of me echo through the metal car, but I don’t care. I grind my hips into her, needing her touch, needing release.
Her hand leaves my breast and moves down to my thigh. She drags her nails up under my skirt to my hip leaving blazing trails in their wake. When she finds my Happy Bunny panties she pauses. She lets go of my wrists. Her accented voice is husky when she says in my ear, “I want taste you.” How long have I ached to hear her say that? A ridge of sweat rises from the base of my skull down my back. Mutely I nod.
Before I know it she takes me down and her weight is pressing me into the elevator floor. She kisses me again, her tongue and teeth punishing my lips. My hands find the skin of her back and I rake her skin so raw she arches and grinds hard into me, letting out a slow throaty sigh. Moving down she nips through my shirt and sucks any skin she finds. Pulling the hem of my shirt up she marks the flesh of my side with a bite.
Tangling my fists in her hair I try to lead her to my center, but she’ll have none of it. She’s not done torturing me.
Her tongue traces a line across to my belly button, which she probes, as her hand moves slowly up my inner thigh. I am saturated for her and she lets out a feral noise when she finds this. Gripping Happy Bunny she pulls down and dives under my skirt. Every muscle in my body flexes as her mouth clamps over my clit. My thighs squeeze together and my hips thrust toward her. Her fingers tease my opening as her tongue circles and laps; causing so much pressure in my chest I can’t breath.
When she pushes inside me another noise escapes and I buck, but she knows how to hold on. She rides with me, her fingers plunging faster and harder as her tongue puts more and more pressure on my clit, until all of my muscles freeze and I scream OH FUCK ME OH GOD - YES
The waves crash over me and the low light becomes even more hazy as my muscles spasm their delight. I feel her sigh and I relax, my thighs setting her free. Smiling up at me she slowly slides out and I quiver. She crawls up, lays next to me and holds me as my muscles turn to mush. I gather my senses one by one.
“We’re not done yet,” I say firmly, letting her know I will take her too…soon… when I get my bones back.
She helps me up and says something in Hebrew into my ear. Her voice and that language makes my skin prickle, it gives me gooseflesh. In response to my questioning look she locks my gaze, brings her fingers to her mouth and sucks me off of them.
I grab the rail for support and she smiles.
No, we’re not done yet.
The next morning…
“Did you get caught?” McGee asks.
I freeze, but just keep looking into the scope, “Huh?” I ask.
“The elevator was out last night just after you left. Did you get stuck in there? Everyone had to take the stairs,” McGee says.
“Oh, that’s terrible,” Says Ziva nonchalantly, I look up but she’s not looking at me. She is however rearranging my evidence bags. Grrr. She continues, “I’m sure the exercise didn’t hurt anyone though.” Fixing me with those black eyes she says, “Exercise is a good thing, yes?”
“Yes,” I say to her brightly, trying not to betray the lust still burning in me from last night, “And no,” I say to McGee turning and pointing at him, “It must’ve broken down just after we left…I left… me… no one else.”