Friction Burns, a ncis fanfic

Disclaimer: NCIS is the property of Belisarius Productions. I make no money off this, nor do I plan to violate the copyrights or anything else, not even Ziva David - blast it.

In the Third Season episode 'Boxed In', while trapped in a cargo container, Tony DiNozzo discovers friction burns on Ziva's knees which she refuses to explain. This is my take on how she got them.

Rated NCis-17 or M for Adult. There's nudity and consensual sex.

Friction Burns

By JMK758

The dinner party is now nothing but a pleasant memory, and as midnight comes and the next 0700 shift looms, it is time for Ziva's guests to leave. As the newest member of the team, she had invited her fellows for a home-cooked dinner in an effort to break the ice, to get to know her associates in a more relaxed, social atmosphere.

She had invited, and spent the evening getting to know, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, the taciturn head of her team; computer guru Tim McGee and Forensic Scientist Abby Sciuto, with whom she had not gotten off on the best of starts. Medical Examiner Donald 'Ducky' Mallard and his assistant Jim Palmer rounded out the guest list.

The only person she had not invited was Tony DiNozzo. Likable as he might (occasionally) be, DiNozzo is definitely a person who should be taken in small doses, and she has already had her fill today. The man is not a bad person, but he can be so obnoxious that she could not possibly think of him as a pleasant dinner guest.

Main course at an aborigine tribe's BBQ comes to mind, but if she is going to indoctrinate herself to American culture and sensitivities she cannot indulge. She is using this evening as a way of reducing stress, not adding to it.

She had left work early in the afternoon so that she would have time to get everything perfectly prepared. She had done it with Gibbs' blessing, which was itself a surprise, but she concluded he had perceived how important this evening was to her.

She wore her best outfit, a sleeveless beige top which zippers in two halves from neck to hem, and a matching skirt. She could not wear the top with any bra she had without straps showing, but she considered that no problem. She had the zipper more than halfway up, low enough to hint at being enticing, high enough to be decorous.

She enjoyed the men's responses to her attire during the evening as they ran the expected range. Her youngest guest, Jimmy Palmer, barely tore his eyes from her all evening, while Tim McGee, older and more seasoned, was somewhat more discreet with his attention. Gibbs, almost as old as the two combined, was his usual taciturn though appreciative self while Ducky, with the maturity of years, showed his appreciation with gentlemanly subtlety.

This was yet another reason she had not invited DiNozzo. She tries not to dress with even a hint of the provocative when around him, not that there is anything she has found in her wardrobe that the man does not consider provocative. She has found he simply cannot take a good thing in quiet appreciation; the man's definition of 'discreet' is a Greek emigrant.

But it is time to say goodnight. As everyone gathers coats and jackets for their return trips McGee, who lives far up north in Silver Spring, excused himself to make, as he put it, 'one last visit'.

At the stroke of midnight she stood at her door saying goodbye, Abby and each of the men in turn departing with hugs and small kisses for which the informality of the evening had set the tone. In moments she is alone, having as her final act given Gibbs her tongue-in-cheek assurance that she would be in bright and early for work; that her clean up duties would have no impact on her having a restful sleep so she would be ready for a full day's work.

She shuts the door on him and turns expectantly. No McGee. She waits a few more seconds, then thinks it might be a good idea to check on him. She gets part of the way through her living room when the bathroom door opens and he steps out. "Ziva, it was a lovely evening," he says expansively, crossing the room to her. "And you are especially lovely."

She smiles, always appreciating a compliment, especially when it seems so sincere. "Thank you, Tim. It was great to have you." Before he reaches her he extends his arms to her so she does the same, taking the final step into the friendly goodbye hug.

His arms encircle her and he kisses her, but the buss is very different from that of the other men. There is real feeling behind it and, caught momentarily by surprise, she is not sure what the proper American response is.

He had always seemed so hesitant around her, around women in general she thinks, and now he is kissing her with passion such as she had never expected from the man. His tongue licks hers sensually, but she is too surprised and uncertain to respond to the pleasure of the sensation. She knows how she would respond - in Israel - but what are American norms for this kind of situation?

In the few seconds of hesitation while she tries to figure out what to do to answer his surprising passion she is undone. His right hand, pressed to her back, traps her into his kiss. Her breasts pressed to his hard chest, she is astonished to feel his left hand slip down her back to take a firm grip of her ass.

It is at that moment, his hand clutching her ass, pressing her hips to his firmness, that she most intently regretted her overindulgent choice of wearing only a tiny blue thong because she wanted no panty lines to show. It leaves nothing between his hot, questing hand and her bare cheeks but the thin skirt.

A moment later, astonishing her with his boldness, he yanks her skirt upward, and now she does not even have that protection! His hand, burning with the fire that suffuses his entire body, clutches and molds the firm, bare flesh of her ass as he presses her forward against him and she feels his hard, insistent flesh.

Recovering from her astounded paralysis even as his hot tongue licks hers and she feels the undeniable but unwilling pleasure of her response, she realizes she has exactly three choices; the same three any woman has. With her training she could fight and quite possibly seriously injure the man. Unjustified overkill. She could apply pressure to any vulnerable point in her reach, and there are many, which would force him away. Otherwise, she could choose not to resist at all.

She does not want to hurt Tim, and she is suddenly realizing that his bold, aggressive move is having an effect upon her far different from any attack. Her firm breasts, unrestrained by a bra and pressed to his chest, grow more sensitive by the moment; and much further down where her skirt had been tugged away, where only the small triangle of her thong separates her from the hard shaft of him pressed against his pants, she is starting to feel very definite responses and she decides that, if he is making his American move, she is enjoying it.

His hot mouth locked on hers, his taller body bending her back slightly off balance, he holds her up with his right arm while his left hand slips off her bare cheeks to the front of her body, his fingers tugging the raised hem of her skirt further up out of his way. She tries to keep silent, not wanting to let him know what he is doing to her, that she is not inclined to fight him at all, that she has decided to be very willing if this is how he is going to play his move on her.

She feels no danger. Not only is she eminently capable of protecting herself but he clearly is not interested in hurting her. He is a man very desirous of a woman, and after many weeks he is making his move. And as long as he behaves himself, she is very much inclined to allow him. He will lead, she shall follow.

But when his fingertips brush before her up and along the heating, moistening material of her skimpy thong, stroking one intensely sensitive spot that sends flares of lust through her, she moans into his open mouth and knows she is undone.

He pets her through the moistening material, his fingers stroking up and down her most sensitive flesh through the thin silken thong as she breathes more sharply against him.

He has passed the limit and she, by not resisting, violently or otherwise, has clearly shown him her decision. True, she could change her mind, but for this moment she is quite content and happy to let him lead this where, without a 'no' from her, it is clearly going to go.

She takes a half step to one side to allow his fingers more freedom, feeling with the thrilling sensations her increasing heat and wetness. She moans again into his mouth tiny cries of mounting passion.

Her body having completely given her away, she stops even in her thoughts resisting this handsome man she had thought about more times than she would dare reveal. Her hands stop looking for a way to break the contact and start their own exploration.

She had thought about him, but always with the restrained secrecy of the workplace and discretion of a fellow Agent. But he is making his move, going to take her, to move her far beyond that point where resistance - if even for show - means anything. She quits any thought of pretending that she is not a very willing participant in her own surprising seduction - or would this be a capture?

Their hot tongues stroke, duel with increasing passion as she reaches down the front of his body, forcing her hips back even while shifting them upward, reaching with her most intimate flesh for his questing hand as she reaches between them to clutch his firm passion.

No longer trapping her against him, he brings his right hand up between them and his fingers grip the small zipper of her blouse. He yanks down hard, forcefully, the material between them parting in two, falling away from her bare breasts with shocking suddenness and he pushes it off her shoulders. She lets it fall down her arms to the floor and her bare flesh is completely exposed to his eyes, to his hands, to his...

She presses her body against him, clings to him with her free arm as his shirt and his hard body beneath mash her sensitive breasts. His hand pressed to her bare back keeps her trapped against him. As their bodies move in mounting frenzy his chest slips along hers, her breasts carry her pleasure and it drives from her all thoughts except of him.

She kisses him, her mouth returning fire for fire, his chest against her sensitive breasts driving her mad as she clutches and strokes his hard member tenting his pants, her mouth watering in her need to taste him.

He turns about, taking her with him and backs her against the wall, pins her body with his own. His left hand continues plying her sensitive flesh through the silken thong even as his right comes up to cup her bare breast. She can see in his burning eyes that he revels in her breasts' firmness and mounting heat. As he fondles her, his hand molding her breasts, not neglecting either, the sensations flare through her body, make her cry out into his mouth her undisguised passion.

As he continues stroking the now very wet thong his thumb teases her left nipple, already long erect and aching for him, and the sensations tear through her as she clings to him, her kiss going from broiling to volcanic. She finally manages to grasp the small tab of his zipper, pull it down and snake her hand in, pushing and pulling material aside until she finds his hard and hot delight. Her hand cups and strokes him as she kisses him with passion gone from volcanic to nova. With her free hand she rips at his clothes. If they come loose, fine; if not, she yanks at them until they tear, rips at him with mad strength, rends the clothes loudly from his body, anything to get them out of her way.

In all this their mad kiss does not end. Though pinned to the wall and 'assaulted' by his hands on her breasts and vagina, her breath comes in higher and higher pitched moans and cries. She is a most willing victim of this mad seduction, returning as much as she gets.

All restraint abandoned, she rips at his clothes until they are out of her way and she gets to the hard, hot body beneath. She heard material tear, a lot of it, but cares nothing for anything that prevents her from reaching her prize.

Suddenly he pulls her away from the wall and before she can react he turns, trips her and bears her down on her bare knees on the carpet. He is behind her and pushes her forward. She barely catches herself in time on her hands, she is 'down on all fours' as Americans say, onto the carpet. He is kneeling behind her, throwing her skirt up again over her hips to her waist.

She feels his strong hands at her right hip. He grabs the small blue thong and pulls hard and it breaks with a snap and he yanks the other half down her left leg to her knee. "TIM!" she cries, outraged at his force but his hand firm on her bare back holds her down.

He presses harder and she is forced onto her forearms as with his knees he nudges hers wide apart. She did not expect this, having thought of him as a bedroom man, but rather than fight she shifts her hips, raising herself when she feels his hard flesh touch her into better position to receive him. An instant later her hands leave their bracing grip on her carpet and she falls chest first onto the carpet, both hands clamped over her mouth to restrain her shriek.

He is larger than she had thought, longer than she is prepared for, harder than she had expected and more forceful and demanding than she had imagined. He fills her almost beyond her limits and stays buried deeply within her for several seconds, letting her get used to him. He fills her almost to the point of pain, but all she feels is delight. When she feels him start to withdraw she clutches him as tightly as she can, not willing to ever let him go.

There are no words for them. He pulls out of her vice-like grip and forces himself into her tightness with such power she is pushed forward and has to grip the carpet to brace herself with one hand, while the other covers another scream of mind-searing passion.

She had described herself to Tony recently as a 'Screamer' but that word does not cover the depth. When she feels this much pleasure, this much joy, this much sheer orgasmic delight she never tries to contain herself - except with her hands clamped tightly over her mouth.

He grips her hips to steady her and forces himself into her again to fill her completely. He drives all sense from her and she gives herself over fully to the experience, to his power within her.

His hands come up under her, cup her hanging breasts, gently molding her flesh almost in counterpoint to his near savage thrusts. She braces herself to take him as his fingers tease her flesh and his hot palms pet her ultra-sensitive nipples, searing her with pleasure. He thrusts into her again, her body pounded forward and she thinks she will go out of her mind.

The sensations and his fervor, so vastly unlike her inchoate picture of her partner, take the experience far beyond anything she had imagined with him. There are times for gentleness, times for wild passion, but this is her time for overwhelming power, for the obliteration of all restraint and she gives herself over ecstatically to the fullest enjoyment of his astonishing fire.

She cries out again and again, screaming her lust with every brutal assault as he pounds into her so hard she is pushed inch by inch on her knees along the carpet.

She matches his rhythm, driving back to meet his brutal thrusts and is over and again driven forward on her knees. She meets him even while lost in the overpowering sensations. His hands on her breasts, his body filling hers almost beyond endurance, so excite her that each hard thrust is met with a sharp scream of pleasure as her body tries to clutch him into herself, of its own volition unwilling to let him go.

Even as he slams into her, driving her forward on now burning knees, that minor pain is overwhelmed by the ecstasy that fills her every time he does.

He has to keep moving up to keep contact with her, but it does not impede his near-brutal thrusts. There is no control in him, no restraint, no mercy; nor would she tolerate any if he did back away from this savage conquest of her body.

She screams every time he fills her, barely able to muffle the cries. She is going to relish him, take every bit of his strength and his body, remember every second of this and fervently pray for a repeat. The feel of him thrusting so mightily into her as he drives her along the carpet on knees she cannot even care are burning slams every thought from her save for the boundless joy of his every hard thrust, of his filling her almost beyond her endurance as she gives herself completely over to him and in turn takes everything he has from him.

His hands on her breasts, cupping and molding her sensitive flesh, his palms tickling her nipples just the way she always loved and had never revealed to him, bring her beyond her broiling flesh to a rapid sear and she thrusts back into him harder and harder, trying to communicate with her screams and her body how much she needs this, how close she is, how his hands on her breasts are driving her insane, how his long thickness and his rubbing her sensitive clitoris with his cock are-

One last powerful thrust slams into her and she drops her hands, pushes herself up and shrieks, the shrill scream going on and on as her body clutches him in mindless ecstasy. She feels him fill her with bursts of cream as hot as her own and her body thrashes as though she is being electrocuted and everything in her universe explodes as her orgasm drives that mad shriek.

She wakes mere seconds later, laying flat upon the carpet, his body covering hers like a hot and heavy blanket. When her thoughts start again she feels him move slightly within her tightness with their every breath, and every movement sends flares of unendurable bliss through her.

She forces her leaden arms to move, presses the carpet and he gets off her, slips out of her - a regretted loss but she knows he will be back again, she will make certain of that - she forces herself to roll over onto her back, her languid body objecting to every inch of the effort.

Gasping, feeling her heated passion flowing down her bare legs, she is breathing so hard she can barely tell which labored breath is hers and which is his. "Tim," she pants, "that ... was - wild."

She has not been so happy to lie still in what seems like years. She lies, eyes closed, just trying to get her breath, to slow her still pounding heart. "I never imagined..."

She feels his hands on the backs of her knees, raising them and spreading her legs. She opens her eyes, seeing him kneeling between her raised knees but coming down to her, his still hard penis pointing between her widely spread thighs as though targeting her.

"Tim. Oh my God!" She stares down between their bodies as his rod disappears below her pubes. She is, barely able to move. He could not be still so huge, so hard!

She feels his touch at her most sensitive lips. She tries to raise her hands, but she feels the head of him slip between her wet labia, and it sends a flare of ecstasy through her body even as she tries to protest that "You cannot possibly be ready to go-" his hard thrust tears her shriek from her lips "AGAIN!"