note: Greetings, all. Now first things first, this is kinda the fault of Anne, Sophie, and... well, someone else I won't name. If you follow me on Tumblr you knew this was going to happen, and if you don't, then, Surprise! Um, a few things about this fic. You can most likely tell by the rating that this is smut. It's only my second venture into it so I'm still kinda new to all this, but I hope it's okay regardless. Also, this is set at a time where Tony and Ziva are together, and have been for a little while, but things are still kinda new to them and they're not living together or anything.

disclaimer: You know you're obsessed with NCIS when you find out your cousin watched her first episode and can't help but feel the tiniest bit proud. (okay, so a lot proud)

listening to: Blow- Deconstructed Mix, by Ke$ha.

"So d'you think they liked it?" he asks, five minutes after the team have left.

Ziva frowns and looks at him pointedly.
"They always enjoy my cooking."

"True."
He picks up the last of the empty plates and takes them through to the kitchen, dumping them haphazardly on the counter. When he walks back, he sees Ziva, cloth in hand, attempting to clean off the wine stain McGee left on her table (his usual one was far too small to accommodate eight people, so they used her sturdy, dark wooden one instead).

"I told him to use a coaster." he says with a sigh, and Ziva sends him a look that suggests he may be being hypocritical- he's not exactly a coaster enthusiast himself. She continues, however, and he uses the seconds to appreciate the view of her ass before she makes to walk away.
But, he catches her hand, and the cloth drops, and he smiles at her before kissing her, deeply. It's slow and long and heady, and though he often forgets just how easily he can get lost in her kisses, he certainly remembers right now. His tongue slips between her lips and brushes hers and she shudders slightly in the light grasp he has her in.

When they pull apart, they're both gasping for air, and as his eyes meet hers he can already see the dark lust forming there. He kisses her still-open mouth and steals the breath from her, and when she moans slightly into him he lifts her up and sets her just on the edge of the table. As they run out of air, his mouth finds her jaw and her neck instead, and his hands move to the hem of her shirt.
She's tense, as if waiting for him to touch her, but his lips seem to find a sweet spot, and upon her gasp his fingers run wild over her torso.

Her skin is hot, searingly so, and though the low back of her satin shirt told him earlier that she wasn't wearing a bra, he's still happily surprised to find no barrier when he reaches her breasts. Whilst one hand toys with her left, the other glides round to her back, and he runs his fingers along the deep-set dimples just above her butt. She groans at one thing or the other- he doesn't bother to ask-, and he plants a kiss to her lips before he slides her shirt up and off altogether.

His mouth traces down her neck and chest, and goes to the breast that hasn't already had some attention, and Ziva's hand presses into the back of his head as if keeping him there. He chuckles, albeit more huskily than he intended, but continues on a path downwards. He moves to press more kisses to her stomach, and Ziva's panting by this point. Short, sharp breathes that have no rhythm or time to them, and he can tell watching her fall apart tonight will be very similar indeed.

He's about to lift her up again and take her through to the bedroom, but before he knows what's happening, her hands are on his belt, and then the zipper's undone, and he moves to kiss her neck again when she cups him, through no material at all. An "Oh, god" escapes his lips at her scorching touch, and though he was already hard, he tightens significantly in her grasp. Her free hand manages to push both his trousers and his boxers away, and he kicks them to the side whilst she waits, patiently, hand still gripping his length relentlessly.

Though he's not sure how, he manages to toe off his shoes (on for the sake of formality of a dinner party) and socks, and he only just realizes he's still got a shirt on when Ziva gives up waiting. She runs her hands up and down him, rhythmically, and he swears under his breath when she twists him within her grip. And then, she licks her thumb and runs that from his tip down to his balls and he gasps, gutturally.
But it feels like he's getting all the treatment here, and so he shifts her back a little from the edge of the table, takes a moment to enjoy the sight- she's flushed, hair starting to come out from its neat curls and turn more wild, and her eyes are wide and dark whilst her chest heaves up and down- and takes her hands off his now painfully hard cock.

He undoes the button on her jeans slowly, the backs of his hands brushing her stomach, and he pulls down the zipper in a similar manner. Then, he steps closer, and his arms go around her again, kissing her deeply whilst his fingers link through her back belt loops. His thumbs brush her dimples again before he lifts her up slightly, and when she gets what he's doing and lifts her butt off the table, he slides the jeans off, catching her panties intentionally as he goes.
The smell of her hits him immediately, and it sends his mind spinning, but he somehow regains enough composure to keep her pants moving until they reach her calves- the material's tight to her skin, and she's still wearing her shoes, and he's not stopping now to try and get her fully undressed because neither of them have the patience for that.

She's tense, breathing heavily, and waiting as he drags his fingers down the valley of her breasts. He stops to toy with them again but keeps moving quickly after because he's not sure how much longer it'll be before her gasps and moans undo him completely.
When he parts her thighs he finds her hot and wet and more than ready, and though he thumbs her clit for a little while, his nerves feel on fire enough as it is and they've hardly begun.

His mouth finds that sweet spot from earlier again, and he occupies himself with that whilst he waits for her to be just the tiniest bit distracted. And when she half-gasps half-moans at both his hand and his lips, and arches her head so he can devour her more easily, he stops, grasps her hips, pulls her to him, and slides in.
Her head falls onto his shoulder at the sudden shocked movement, and he hears her swear, loud and dragged-out in his ear. He pulls back and rolls his hips again and her hands are gripping at his shoulders almost painfully now. She claws at the buttons on his shirt unexpectedly, tearing it open and running her hands over his skin, and at any other time it'd be a distraction.

But he doesn't even notice, he just moves, again and again and again, until he's short of breath and Ziva's near-howling in pleasure amongst hitches of breath. He pulls her closer to him, so she's hardly sitting on the table at all, and she peels herself off his shoulders to sit back somewhat, hands propping her up tentatively from their spots just behind her ass. He pulls out so his tip is at her entrance again, grasping her lower thighs tight for balance. And she shuts her eyes in anticipation, making quiet keening sounds with every breath whilst he takes his sweet time in moving.
Then, he slams back into her and her arms tremble while she groans, as if it's an effort to keep her sitting up much longer. Her moans and gasps and words have turned indecipherable and he's crying out now, too, and though he thrusts into her repeatedly, he's rapidly losing control and so is she. She's matching him now, hips coming up to meet him as his own pull back and forth over and over again, and her muscles are tightening madly around him; he knows she's as close as he is.
His control lasts enough to reach down and press against her clit as he moves, and that's all it takes. She cries out, her arms giving up and leaving her sprawled out on the dark wood, and he takes one look at her expression, eyes squeezed shut but the rest somehow full of ecstasy, and when her muscles clench round him, he's gone too.

They fall apart together, and though she's got the advantage of the table, he has no such help, and he leans against her for all he's worth. Gasping for air, their eyes meet, and his lips quirk into a wicked grin at her satisfied look. Not only is it the sated smile, but he takes in the contrast of olive skin to deep dark wood, to her hair fanning out round her, to her pert little boobs sitting on her rapidly rising and falling chest, rather a distraction. He pulls out of her and they both hiss somewhat, and then his legs go out. He sits, head resting against the table leg, and his eyes roam what of Ziva he can see- toned, tan calves, and those troublesome heels, and he sees them swing as she makes to stand. When she does, unsteadily, he looks up at her, practically naked and very much ruffled, and he has to admit the view's marvellous from down there.

And then, she bends down, to unbuckle her shoes and kick them off, and then pull off her jeans and panties in one move. She sighs, seemingly content to be rid of everything, and looks to him as she outstretches a hand. He takes it, stands just as shakily as she did, and they slowly pad, barefoot, through to the bedroom.

"I'm never going to be able to look at that table in the same way again, you know."

He laughs, still short of breath, and pulls her to him then plants a chaste kiss on her lips.
"Maybe that was the point."

With a wink, he lies down on the bed, and tugs on her arm. She falls on top of him with a yelp, but quickly gets settled, and kisses him yet again.

He decides there and then, whilst her lips are pressed tightly against his, that when they move in together, he'll make sure the table's pride of place in their dining room. And there's nothing she can do to stop him.

I hope that wasn't too bad, haha.