UPDATE 4.30.2010 - I am continuing this story so that the first 6 chapters are Part I and the rest is Part II. Additional notes at the beginning of Chapter 7.

Warning-sex ahead! This is a series of snap shots of our heroes doing naughty things, but not all of it is fluffy. RATED M for a reason.

This chapter takes place after Gibbs leaves for Mexico.

Disclaimer: Not mine, of course.

The first time he goes to her, he does not know the reason. But she does. She's been down this road before.

She opens the door in response to his hesitant knock. Hair dampened from the rain, he looks like a lost little boy. She gives him a slight smile and softly murmurs, "Are you lost, DiNozzo?"

He doesn't return her smile but whispers back, "He left."

Her face grows serious and she offers her hand to him.

"I know, Tony."

She doesn't wait for him to respond, but grabs his hand and pulls him inside her apartment. Leading him to her couch, she motions for him to sit while she silently pads to the bathroom to grab a towel for his wet hair. His eyes follow her movements, but he does not speak. She keeps her own silence as she moves to stand in front of him. Rather than hand over the towel, Ziva kneels on the couch next to him and lightly rubs the terrycloth fabric over his damp head.

Tony's eyes drift closed and enjoys her touch for another minute before lightly grasping her wrist. He doesn't say a word but tugs her into his embrace. Half sprawled across his lap, she rests her cheek against his chest while he buries his face in the crook of her neck.

His fingers trace a lazy pattern along the ridge of her spine. She shivers. She knows what happens next just as surely as she knows realization has not yet dawned for Tony. But she's played this game before and knows the rules.

His arms tighten briefly around her small frame. Twisting in his arms, she adjusts her position so that she is straddling his lap. She looks at his face and he meets her gaze, pain and sorrow and something else entirely- something resembling desire- burn in those green eyes.

She presses a kiss to his chin. He doesn't stop her.

Next, she brushes her smooth lips against his, teasing him with the tip of her tongue. He still doesn't stop her.

Taking his lack of resistance for the permission that it is, she continues to explore him with her mouth and her hands. Pulling his shirt from his pants she slides her small hands along the skin at his waist. The muscles of his stomach clench as she teasingly scrapes her fingernails along sensitive flesh. Grasping the hem of his shirt she pulls the garment form his body and he allows his head to fall back along the cushions of her couch with a sigh.

She kisses a damp path along his collar bone and up his neck. His breathing quickens. She sits back on his lap and finds him studying her with a strange expression on his face. But he still does not stop her.

Only when she slides off of his lap to kneel between his legs, her hands reaching for the button on his jeans- only then does he stop her.

Grabbing her wrist, he effectively stills her movement. Her mouth drops open and her head snaps up in surprise. He's changing the rules of the game.

He doesn't speak for a moment but holds her confused gaze with his own.

"Stop."

"What's the matter?"

He's not sure what pains him more: the realization that she is about to service him or the fact that she doesn't understand that her behavior is odd.

"You are not a courtesan, Ziva. I need you with me." Staring into her face he sees confusion and something resembling vulnerability clouding her features.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean," she whispers.

"Yes, you do. How many times have you done this? How many times have you used seduction as distraction? How often was this expected of you?" His voice holds no accusation, but rather sadness. She hasn't given him enough credit for his observational ability.

She assumes his questions are rhetorical and remains silent and unsure of what to do next. He lifts her so that she is once more straddling his legs. Pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth he whispers, "Be here with me, Ziva."

She nods and that is all the permission he needs. Trapping her face between his hands, his mouth finds hers and his tongue dips between her lips. He teases and nips at her. Still reeling from his revelation, she feels the power shift as he takes command of the situation.

Her head tips back has his tongue teases a path along her neck. His hands pull at her shirt and before she knows it, his deft fingers unclasp her bra. Pushing her off his lap she stands, somewhat stunned, between his legs as he slides her pants down her legs. He quickly sheds his own jeans before settling back on the couch with her once more in his lap.

He wants to push himself inside of her, foreplay be damned, but this is Ziva and he doesn't want any regret.

Her breathing has quickened and her eyes have gained a slightly wild flare and he wants to sear this image into his brain. Running his hands along her arms, her skin breaks out in goose bumps and she shivers. His thumbs lightly graze her nipples as his fingers travel north and her eye lids droop with a soft sigh.

Her hands begin their own exploration, only to stop short when her attention is shattered by a finger slipping between her legs. A sharp intake of her breath and her head falls back only to fall forward once again as his fingers scrape against the bundle of nerves that craves his touch.

Her breath is coming in short little pants, an occasional sigh or whimper escaping lips that are pressed against his neck and he smiles to himself because later he will remind her that she called herself a screamer and that he has it on good authority that she is not.

Her legs begin to shake and he can feel the beginning of her orgasm start. A few more strokes is all it would take, but he wants to feel her around him. He pulls his hand away and she cries out in desperation. Grasping her hips, he lifts her and buries himself deeply inside of her body.

She begins to rock her hips, but he grabs her to keep still. Pulling back, she searches his face in confusion. Chocolate eyes meet hazel and he wants to say the words, but he doesn't have to. He simply places his hand on her cheek and presses the most exquisitely gentle kiss on her lips, then pulls her tightly against his chest.

She wraps her arms around his shoulders, a tiny sob escaping her lips as she once again buries her face into his neck. Lifting his hips slightly, he grinds up against her.

He moves so slowly and deliberately that she wants to cry. His hands on her hips, he rocks her hard against his pelvis and once again her legs begin to shake. His hand slips between their joined bodies, his finger brushing the nerves that cause her gasp and shake above him. One more stroke and a thrust of his hips - hard - and she cries out and collapses against him.

He does not wait for the tremors to ease before his flips her onto her back and once more presses himself inside of her. She wraps her arms and legs around him, a soft satisfied smile on her face. It's not long before he follows her to bliss and collapses heavily on top of her.

Slowly, he becomes aware of his body crushing hers, but when he moves to roll off of her, she holds him tighter.

"Not, yet," she whispers in his ear and he smiles against her temple.

Eventually, he will gather her in his arms and carry to her to the bedroom. He will make love to her again in the early morning hours before dawn. Before he leaves in the morning, he will press his forehead against hers and simply kiss her cheek. He can't articulate all of the things he wants to say to her, but he doesn't have to.

She already knows.

Thank you for reading. More to come. Reviews are always welcomed and appreciated.