Author's Disclaimer: I own nothing, DPB pwns all, I am merely a fan. All I share in common with any of this is my name is Jennifer. However if anyone tried to call me Jenny, I’d attempt to kick their ass. ;)
Disclaimer: "NCIS: Naval Criminal Investigative Services," the characters, and situations depicted are the property of Belisarius Productions, Paramount Network Television Productions, Paramount Television, and CBS Television. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. This site is in no way affiliated with " NCIS: Naval Criminal Investigative Services," CBS, or any representatives of Pauley Perrette or Cote de Pablo.
They rode the lifts down to the street, passing the very expensive, very exclusive restaurant that they were skipping out of on the way down. Once on the street, Jenny led Ziva to the taxi stands, barking at the first cabbie she saw in rapid-fire French. While it was one of the languages Ziva spoke well, she chose to not to listen in, instead marveling at the turn of events in the past few days.
Or, rather she tired to think about the past few days, but all she could focus on was the kiss they had shared at the top of the Tower. In her two and a half years under the roof of NCIS she had never dared to hope, let alone dream that she might rekindle something with her old partner who was now her Director. Yet, there were times when the old Jenny would show through, for brief moments in time when they would connect on a level deeper then boss and subordinate. Ziva would be lying if she didn’t admit, at least to herself that she lived for those rare moments.
Slowly she became aware that she had climbed into the taxi and they were moving through the early evening traffic of Paris. They were heading away from the Tower and towards the fashionable artists district.
Jenny’s finger laced with Ziva’s, “You’re awful quite.” She asked in rusty Hebrew.
Ziva chuckled, a low, throaty sound. “You are sure he does not speak Hebrew?” She looked at the older woman, mirth in her dark brown eyes.
Jenny smiled, “I’m pretty sure. Question is, do I ?”
She laughed, nodding, “Yes, you still speak fairly well. Though I think I refresher is in order.” She tried to sound stern.
As Jenny chuckled, Ziva’s attention was once again caught by the scenery going past her window. “Where is your hotel? She asked, still in Hebrew.
“It’s in the Le Marais District. It’s well known for being a major Jewish part of Paris.” She blushed, “As well as being um, quite the gay hotspot.” She wasn’t sure how Ziva would take that.
“Is there a Synagogue?” She turned to look back at Jenny as she nodded.
“Several, actually; and kosher restaurants as well.
“That sounds very nice.” Ziva’s fingers squeezed Jenny’s, and she wondered just what was going on in the Israeli’s head.
Another couple of blocks and the cab pulled over, Ziva slid out as Jenny paid. As the car was pulling away, she turned to the red head, “Where is your hotel? All I see are shops.” She was still speaking in Hebrew and was surprised to see more then one passerby look up in understanding.
Jenny smiled, “I wanted to get something to eat here, in these shops, the hotel is another block down the road, is that okay?” She asked, reaching for her hand again.
Ziva smiled and nodded.
Twenty minuets later and the two women were walking back down the street. In Jenny’s left hand was a bag of baguettes, cheese and fruit, her right hand holding Ziva’s left; and in Ziva’s right hand, a bottle of red wine. Jenny smiled to herself, remembering a very similar walk with Jethro eight years before.
In no time they were approaching Jenny’s hotel, a swank affair complete with liveried doorman. They rode the gilt elevator to the top floor where Jenny’s room was located and once through the door Ziva went straight for the window, tossing the jacket on a chair.
“Jenny, my God, the view…..” Her voice trailed off as she took in the view of the EiffelTower, lit up and sparkling as though the sun were shining off a million brilliant diamonds.
Jenny shut the door, locking it and slipped out of her shoes before padding across the room, setting the bag on the coffee table. Her arms slid around the taller woman before her. “It’s something, isn’t it? I don’t know how Jethro got a room with a view this good.” She rested her cheek against Ziva’s bare shoulder.
Ziva shuddered, turning slowly in the other woman’s arms. “Perhaps we should send him a fruit basket?” She asked mischief in her voice.
Jenny giggled, “Perhaps.” She stood up on tiptoe, kissing Ziva slowly.
Ziva moaned against her lips, when they finally broke the kiss, she was smiling.
“I can not believe I am standing here, with you. It is like a dream.” The smile the broke across the Israeli’s face was beautiful. She leaned down, kissing Jenny again, this time there was more passion behind it. She began walking Jenny backwards towards the living room.
Jenny gasped when she felt the sofa behind her knees, she sat suddenly and Ziva wasted no time in pulling her skirt up and straddling the shorter woman’s lap. She took Jenny’s face in her hands, “Is this too much, do you wish me to slow?” Her breath was slightly labored and her voice husky.
Jenny smiled wrapping her arms around Ziva’s body, “Slower? Never.” She pulled Ziva’s body hard against hers, smiling at the moan that escapes Ziva. Her hands moved up her back, pulling Ziva’s hair down from its messy updo; black hair spilled down olive skin and Ziva shuddered. Next Jenny’s right hand roamed around to Ziva’s front, cupping her left breast through the thin silk of her dress. She was rewarded with Ziva breaking the kiss and arching her body forward into Jenny’s hand, her thumb rubbing over the hard peak causing Ziva to moan and writhe in her lap. Smiling, Jenny leaned down, capturing the hard peak in her mouth, suckling it through the silk of her dress.
Jenny grinned, a hand slipping up along Ziva’s thigh under her dress, her lips moving from one breast to the other. Jenny’s hand slid all the way up, and she pulled back in surprise as her fingers encountered nothing but wetness.
“Commando, Ziva?” She arched an eyebrow in amusement.
Ziva actually blushed, “I was worried my underwear would show.” She squirmed in the older woman’s lap, trying to bring herself in contact with Jenny’s fingers.
Jenny gave a wide smile, “My very own assassin, wrapped in black silk and nothing else.” She leaned forward, suckling a taught nipple back into her mouth as her fingers resumed their ministrations against Ziva’s neither regions.
Ziva’s hands came up to Jenny’s shoulders, holding herself as she let her head fall back; black hair pooling behind her. Her hips settled on a rhythm with Jenny’s fingers.
“Mummmmmm you’re still a breast woman,” She purred, one of her hands sliding down to tweak one of Jenny’s nipples through her tux blouse.
Jenny gave a quiet husk of appreciation, “Of course.” She allowed a finger to slip up, inside Ziva pressing down hard as she withdrew it. She gave a feral grin of pleasure at the squeak that escaped the Mossad Officer.
“Revealing your weakness, Officer David?” Jenny raised an eyebrow as she began to stroke Ziva with more purpose.
Ziva moaned in response, her eyes beginning to glaze over, her mouth opened as if to say something, but no words came out.
Jenny brought her slick fingers up to her clit, circling the engorged nerves in an always changing rhythm.
Ziva whimpered, “Jenny, please….”
Her Hebrew was back, and much thicker, Jenny smiled in pleasure. She carefully maneuvered Ziva’s legs before flipping the young woman onto her back on the sofa.
Ziva lay panting along the cushions, glaring up at the redhead, “You only managed that because I was distracted.” She was literally pouting as Jenny pushed her dress up to pool in her lap.
Jenny chuckled, “I promise I won’t tell Gibbs.”
Before Ziva could fire off an appropriate retort, Jenny’s mouth was between her legs and Ziva’s whole body arched off the sofa in pleasure. Her fingers dug into the overstuffed fabric as she threw one leg over the back of the sofa, the other pushing off the floor.
Jenny’s hands ran up over her hips, fingers splaying in a possessive manner.
Ziva writhed under Jenny, the cool silk sliding like ice across her flushed skin. Soon she went from panting to mewling to outright moaning.
Jenny’s lips made wet thirsty sounds as she continued to make love to Ziva. She removed one of her hands, bringing it down and began to slide first one, then two fingers up into the woman beneath her.
“More, Jenny, more.” She was begging in Hebrew, thrusting her hips like a wanton into Jenny’s face.
She slid a third finger into Ziva, pushing as hard as she dared. It had been so long, she worried about hurting the younger woman.
“Do not worry about me, just fuck me!” Ziva growled and then gave a shocked gasp as her hips began to buck of their own accord, a sign of her coming orgasm.
Jenny smiled and her lips worked in earnest now suckling Ziva’s clit as her fingers surged in and out; her wetness dripping down Jenny’s wrist.
Three more hard thrusts and Ziva’s body contracted up before falling back to the cushions and she began thrashing, head thrown back in a long cry of release.
Jenny’s mouth didn’t stop, lips working every ounce she could get out of Ziva, her fingers thrust up as far into her as she could go. The feel of Ziva clenching down on her was powerful and she smiled as outwardly the younger woman began to calm while her inner muscles still fluttered around Jenny’s fingers.
Slowly Jenny began to suckle and clean every drop the coated Ziva’s lips and thighs. She then carefully pulled her fingers from Ziva and sat up between her thighs.
Ziva was panting and covered in a light sheen of sweat. She swallowed hard as she watched Jenny suck her fingers clean through half-lidded eyes; though her eyes widened as once she was done, she leaned down and began kissing her way up Ziva’s belly. Once she came in contact with the skirt of Ziva’s dress she skipped up to Ziva’s mouth, claiming it in a bruising kiss. Her hands traveled up into Ziva’s hair, pulling her face almost brutally to hers. When they finally broke for air, Ziva was gasping.
“J----Jenny……That was……amazing.” She whimpered as Jenny pulled away, removing her thigh from between her legs where a lovely heat was already pooling again.
Jenny smirked, “Sorry, baby, but I can’t afford to ruin these pants; you know how hard it is to get that stuff out of satin.”
Ziva gave a predatory smile as she clambered up off the sofa, pulling her dress off as she stood before following Jenny into the bedroom. In the moonlit room she watched as the older woman peeled the clinging fabric down off her hips and thighs before stepping out of it. Next came the deeply plunging blouse and dressed in only a white lace demi bra and a pair of white satin skin tight boy shorts she turned to gauge Ziva’s reaction.
Ziva slowly walked around Jenny, taking in the curves that had slightly rounded since the last time she’d seen her like this. Ziva’s fingers trailed over the changes, taking stock of several new scars and she stopped as she stood in front of her. Her hands slid around, cupping Jenny’s ass and pulling her body hard against Ziva’s.
“You are even more beautiful then the last time I saw you like this.” She reviled in the feel of Jenny’s hard nipples through the satin of her bra, pressed against her breasts. Her fingers splayed over her firm rump as she ground her damp pussy against Jen’s. “And you still enjoy boyish underwear as well.” Her voice was a low purr of approval.
Jenny moaned. “You know me Ziva; I’m a creature of habit.”
Ziva maneuvered her towards the bed before falling to her knees in front of the redhead. She laid a chaste kiss on her damp mound through the silk. “Does this mean that when you stand on the catwalk, watching the bullpen, this is what you’re wearing under your suit?” She rested her cheek against the damp silk, giving a gentle nip to Jenny’s inner thigh.
The older woman moaned, both from Ziva’s words and her love bite.
“Yes.” It was a soft sigh of admission.
“Muuuummmmmmmmmm, good……I’d hate to think I’d been fantasizing about you in the wrong underwear all these years.” She moved her mouth to suckle Jenny through the wet fabric and Jenny fell back on the bed, whimpering.
Ziva stood up, quickly peeling Jenny’s underwear down and off her body before clambering up and over her. Sitting astride the older woman, she slipped a hand under her, deftly unclasping her bra before pulling it off to admire the moonlight on Jenny’s pale body.
“I see you can still remove a bra one-handed.” Jenny panted softly.
Ziva smiled, “I am a woman of many talents.”
“Yes, I know.” She bucked her hips up under Ziva, aiming for any friction she could find.
Ziva’s grin was feral as she leaned down over Jenny, her hair pooling around their faces, blocking out mush of the light. “Tell me, Jenny, are you still a hard, fast fuck?” She licked her lips in anticipation. “Or, has time mellowed you?” One eyebrow rose.
Jenny’s body bucked up under her as Jenny’s hands came up to her shoulders. For a moment the two women wrestled until once again, Ziva had Jenny pinned. “Ah, I see you’re still my feisty little one.” She nipped Jenny’s ear and her Hebrew was back and Jenny could have wept with joy, because she knew what that meant.
Ziva began to kiss her, going from zero to mach 3 in no time. Ziva’s body began to thrust against hers and Jenny threw a leg across Ziva’s back, grinding her hips up into the Israeli.
Ziva was content with this for a time, until Jenny was whimpering incoherently under her. She gently slid off the older woman, cradling Jenny’s body against hers. Her hand slid down Jenny fingers sliding easily into the red, wet curls at her apex. She began to croon gently to her in Hebrew, “Sssshush little one, relax, it will come. Soon.” She smiled as Jenny whimpered in reply, she still understood.
“Yes, I remember, you like it hard and fast, and when you come, so very gentle.” She feathered kisses across Jenny’s fevered face.
Jenny was beyond speech, her body was nothing but an instrument, and Ziva was an expert player. Soon her whole body was undulating up to meet Ziva’s hand and she was suckling her ear.
“That’s right, little one,” Three fingers sliding in and out, dragging hard on her inner walls. “Fuck my hand; remember the strap-on we used to have? Remember how I used to give you blow jobs?”
That was all it took, Jenny was screaming, tears sliding down her face as Ziva held her body tight against her own, fingers never ceasing.
Slowly Jenny’s breathing returned to normal, Ziva still holding her gently. She started to roll over, curling into herself. “Ziva, I----I’m sorry….”
Ziva’s eyebrows pulled together, “W—why?” She suddenly sounded much younger then her years.
“I---I didn’t---“ She swallowed, unsure.
Suddenly Ziva understood, “Do not be silly, little one,” She used the old pet name hoping to relax her lover. “It has been a long time, no? I should apologize for what I just said.” She actually flushed.
Jenny rolled back over and pulled the younger woman to her, “I have missed you so much, baby.” She closed her eyes, kissing Ziva.
It was a slow, gentle kiss; neither woman trying to dominate the other. When they finally pulled apart they were both smiling as they cuddled together. Finally Jenny pulled the blankets up around them and the watched the play of the streetlights along the ceiling.
“I think perhaps, we owe Gibbs much more then a fruit basket.” Ziva said after a moment.
Jenny just threw her arms around her and giggled madly.