'He had wanted her—wanted this—for so long. It had started out as his typical playboy lust and he wasn't quite sure when it had changed. But he could tell by her expression that she had wanted the same thing for nearly as long.' TIVA, post Judgement Day.

AN: I own nothing.

Oneironauts: Chapter 1

Tony was lying awake on his cot. He was thinking, something he seemed to be doing a lot of ever since he had been assigned to the USS Reagan.

But he was surprised when he found himself so distracted he had not heard the door open or close.

He sat up. "Ziva?"

"Hello, Tony."

Ziva stood before him, in the middle of the small cabin. She wasn't smiling nor had any other expression that acknowledged the peculiarity of her sudden presence there.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you," she said simply. Her voice was steady and her accent especially melodious to his ears.

Ziva was looking at him intently and did not break her gaze as she unzipped her jacket and let it fall to the floor.

"How did you get here?"

She did not answer, but merely crossed her arms over her chest and pulled her shirt off over her head.

Tony stared, not knowing what to say. He finally recognized what the look in her eyes was: subtle seductiveness. Each article she took off, the harder Tony found it to bring up why she was undressing.

She kicked of her shoes and socks. Then she unbuttoned her cargo pants and stepped out of them once they slid from her hips to the floor.

He expected her to stop, but she continued to reach behind her and unclasp her bra as she neared his cot. Once she was right in front of him, she tucked her thumbs in the sides of her thong and wriggled it off as well.

Before he could stop her, Ziva reached for his blanket and flung it off him. It was no secret at NCIS that Tony slept in the buff, something she must have been planning on, as she then straddled his lap and put her hands on his shoulders.

Tony still hadn't regained his speech. He had thought of similar situations with Ziva before, but it actually happening, without the hypotheticals, was another story.

She was still looking into his eyes with her alluring dark ones when she finally broke the silence.

"Are you afraid of me, Tony?" she said amusedly.

He actually chuckled and half-smiled as if it were any other situation than this. "You know I am, Ziva."

Her mouth twitched slyly. "Well, you don't have to be," she said before leaning in to kiss him.

Tony now laid his hands on her waist to bring her with him as he lay back on his cot. The kiss soon became more fervent and hungry, Tony's hands roaming her curves and Ziva pressing her body against his.

She kissed his neck and up to his ear. "Tony," she purred, grinding into him.

His body tensed in response but couldn't speak. Ziva ground once more against him and repeated his name. He squeezed her ass, keeping her flush against him. He gave a low groan.

Ziva raised her head to look at him, her eyes blurry with want. Taking queue, Tony let her go so she could raise herself and slide onto him. Tony grasped her thighs. She was sitting up now, her hands stroking his chest, allowing him to get a good view of her.

She was as beautiful as ever, her confidence apparent in her posture. The hair he couldn't help but love draped her shoulders and framed her face. He reached up to tuck some of it behind her ear, letting his hand run through it. Then he grazed his knuckles across her cheek, her chin, her lips…

He had wanted her—wanted this—for so long. It had started out as his typical playboy lust and he wasn't quite sure when it had changed. But he could tell by her expression that she had wanted the same thing for nearly as long.

A small smile graced her face as he grinned back. Their gaze on each other was intense and communicating more than words could. It seemed like a lot of their communication at NCIS had been nonverbal. What they said never was nearly as full as their shared looks. And now it was just as true. Neither of them spoke words of love or lust, but their eyes told of both.

Ziva had been steadily picking up pace, yet still making sure to milk every stroke. As she reached her peak her head lolled back and she shut her eyes. Although not easily winded, her breathing was labored. Tony watched her, her reaction adding to his own excitement. Finally, it was when she gasped his name that he, too, came, not knowing that so much satisfaction could come from her saying it.

She lay next to him, on her side (and he on his back), with not much room for them both on the cot. The arm of his she was not resting on was stroking her face again.

"I missed you, Ziva."

"Why do you think I came?"

"You knew I'd miss you?"

"Of course you would, Tony. And I had to come back…come back for you."

Her dark lashes drooped, making Tony realize how tired he was as well. But he didn't want to sleep; he wanted to stay up with Ziva. His eyes shut once, twice, three times.

The fourth time, he jerked himself awake. But Ziva had vanished from his arms. She was gone; her clothes were gone. And even though he could still remember the feel of her, he knew that she had never been there except in his dreams.