Title: "Falling Hard"
Author: A. Magiluna Stormwriter
Pairings: Sara/Ziva, Abby/Ziva, Dace/Sofia, Sofia/Dace/Sara
Category: a really detailed PWP
Word Count: 8099
Date: 27 May - 21 June 2006
Date in Calendar: 22 June 2006
Series: Light, Water, Muses
Summary: A glimpse into the wild side of characters new and old.
Warnings: BDSM, y'all, & girls with girls…duh? If either is against your beliefs/desires/morals, WTF are you here for?
Warnings II: This takes place in 2006. Waaaaaaay past anything else in the timeline, y'all… Why? Because Ziva demanded it. And you don't say no to Ziva unless you've got a really good reason, and a bulletproof vest… [quote from Shatterpath]
Website: ShatterStorm Productions – Light, Water, Muses
Archive: ShatterStorm Productions only…all others ask for permission & we'll see…
The Division Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and places are the property of Lifetime Television, Kedzie Productions, Viacom Productions, and Paramount. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. 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 "The Division", Lifetime Television, or any representatives of Bonnie Bedelia, Nancy McKeon, Lisa Vidal, or Tracey Needham. This site contains stories between two mature, consenting adult females.
CSI Disclaimer: "CSI: Crime Scene Investigators," the characters, and situations depicted are the property of Jerry Bruckheimer Television, Alliance Atlantis, and CBS Productions. 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 "CSI: Crime Scene Investigators," CBS, or any representatives of Jorja Fox or Louise Lombard.
NCIS Disclaimer: Author’s 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.
Author’s Disclaimer: Any original belong to ShatterStorm Productions and are the creations of A. Magiluna Stormwriter and Shatterpath. They also belong in the Light, Water, Muses universe, tho’ this is a standalone within the whole of that universe.
Author’s Notes: Where do I start? Let's see…This is all Shatterpath's fault. It's really just easier to blame it all on her, as it's usually some conversation with her that starts these damned plot ratties that spawn like whoa in my brain!
It was her idea to bring the NCIS crew into the LWM universe. There will be more on exactly how they've gotten pulled in soon. In fact, that'll probably debut either in the FSAC :: Dead of Winter 2006 or the FSAC :: Dog Days of Summer 2007. But if you ask her nicely, she might give you a hint or two… *g*
As for me? Ziva is a hot, scary, sexy little studmuffin…the shorter, darker, scarier version of Sofia Curtis. Yeah, that's all it really takes…I'm such a slut for a dominant, sexy woman… *happy sigh*
Thanks: to dz_crasher, for assistance on the English spelling-bastardization of the Hebrew word for kitten.
Dedication: To my muses. I’d be nowhere without them.
Beta/Co-Author: Shatterpath, as always. I'd be nowhere without her, too…
by A. Magiluna Stormwriter
++ Sara ++
Nervous and sweaty-damp with anticipation, I paced back and forth in the mock interrogation room, waiting to see what was going to happen. I knew Daddy had set up some sort of scene for me at the most reclusive of the House of Hearts playgrounds. This place had been mocked up to represent a variety of fetish spaces, including a third world POW camp and a variety of police interrogation rooms. It was the later that contained me now, a boring, square space painted an unobtrusive, dusky green. Nothing at all like what I worked in on a daily basis, the semi-familiar space was a blessing to my sensibilities. It would have been torture if I'd had to work at the lab and have thoughts of… everything I'd done in places like this… running through my brain all the time.
Daddy had been uncharacteristically evasive about details, wanting me to react ‘naturally' to wherever this scene headed. The only thing I could be sure of was that I'd been on edge lately, and neither Dace nor Catherine had come up with anything that could calm me. Many years had passed since this restless, dangerous feeling had plagued me and it was becoming a serious issue.
Willing myself to take a deep breath and settle down a bit, I studied the room where we'd played in the past. The flat expanse of mirrored glass held my eyes and I studied my own expression. Dammit, I did look haunted! There was no reason to feel the way I way feeling lately. I loved my packmates, and my life was good on all fronts.
What was wrong with me?
The door opened, jerking my thoughts back to the present, and I blinked at Ziva. The woman had been a fascinating enigma since the day she walked into our lives, looking for her missing partner. She strode into the room, all seriousness and precisely coiled tension, and very gently set a battered file box on the table. Butterflies were tickling awake in the pit of my stomach, fluttering all the more enthusiastically as she looked up at me, dark eyes probing. There was a sense of utter nakedness under that intense scrutiny, and couldn't help crossing my arms somewhat defensively across my chest. When she quirked a curious brow at me, I forced my arms to my sides, inwardly cursing at the flush I felt warming my cheeks.
"Dace requested my presence in this scene," she began in a low, even voice. "Because I have never done this one on one before, particularly with you, I require your assurance that you will be absolutely honest with me. Am I understood?"
"Yes, ma'am," I replied without thought, feeling my well-trained body keying up already, relieved that I could still respond like this.
"What are your safe words?"
I hesitated for a moment, debating this. I always used something from work, Grissom's and Ecklie's names. Somehow, that didn't seem appropriate today. And this wasn't Dace that I was playing with, or any of the others that I'd been privileged to work with so far. So I went with the secondary set, which was usually reserved for people like Bane or Michael. "DUI for my slow-down word and Tamales for stop," I finally whispered past the tightness in my throat.
"I didn't catch that," she replied, eyes narrowing as she continued to study me levelly. "You need to speak up so I can hear you, or this will not happen, Sara."
Caressing blue eyes were an almost physical sensation, despite the fact that Dace wasn’t here. That power like fire and ice willed me to follow my training and I found strength in her. Clearing my throat and blinking a couple of times, I repeated the words in a louder voice. Ziva didn't react for long moments, making me squirm, before nodding slowly, but did nothing more until I sat down.
"Yellow is Gibbs, red is Todd," she said quietly, and the raw edge on that final name piqued my curiosity, making me file it away for future reference. Shaking off the sudden melancholy, Ziva moved around the table to take her own seat, across from me, and surprised me by reaching over the wooden surface to cover my hands with her own. "Sara, take a deep breath and relax," she coaxed in a low voice, supportive and comforting to my raw emotions. "We're not going to do anything you aren't comfortable with. Dace and I had a long talk about this, and Tessa provided a few worthy practice runs." A lovely smile warmed her face. "Take a moment and prepare yourself . When you're ready, meet my gaze and we'll begin. This will only stop when it's played out, or one of us uses the safe words. Yes?" After a quick squeeze of my fingers, she pulled away to lean back arrogantly into her seat.
Nodding, I leaned forward, forehead resting in my hands for a moment, feeling the lingering warmth of her touch. I closed my eyes, willing the butterflies in my stomach to go away so that this would work out the way I needed it to. A small part of me wrapped around my safe words, memorized hers by rote, kept them close until they were needed, if they were needed. I sincerely hoped it wouldn't come to that, but I wouldn't be so stupid as to ignore its necessity as I had in the past. I could trust Ziva not to go too far, right? And Daddy was expecting something out of me, as both a lover and a friend. Why else would she choose this new person in our lives to give me a new space to play in?
Maybe, just maybe, this new player could help me find a way out of this restless disassociation that plagued me.
Taking a steadying breath, I leaned back in the chair, arms resting on the table, and met her gaze openly, willingly.
++ Ziva ++
When Dace and Sofia had approached me with this little idea of theirs, I'd refused at first. Role-playing wasn't something I chose to do in my free time. There was more than enough of it when I'd worked as a Mossad agent for my father; even some once I'd become part of Gibbs' team. It was only with Abby's persistent encouragement that I finally agreed to it. That and Sara strangely reminded me of a subdued version of Abby. It was pointless to keep denying my budding attraction for my coworker, and that she used that attraction to get me to do this. Particularly in the aftermath of what happened to Tony. We had all learned a valuable lesson about not ignoring what was important to us.
I'd been participating in interrogations practically since I could walk, it seemed, but they were always business related. I'd never considered doing it for pleasure, despite deriving a certain satisfaction from a well-wrought interrogation. But to derive a sexual thrill from it? Definitely new territory for me, though not wholly unwarranted. I hadn't lied to Sara about never having done this before. Granted, Dace and Sofia had given me several trial runs with Tessa. The woman was born to submit and nearly made me melt at the sublime joy of learning this new facet of myself. From Tessa, I truly learned the pleasure of pressure.
Within context, of course.
While Sara mentally prepared herself for what was going to happen, I sifted through the items in the file box. It was simply to re-familiarize myself with the props I'd been supplied with to play out this little game. It also gave me a few moments to run the scenario through my mind again, making sure I wouldn't forget anything. Thankfully, the two blondes had gone over this with me several times and left me cue cards with some of the items.
My gaze flickered up to the two-way mirror to my left where I knew the two instigators were watching us. They were curious about the eventual outcome of our scene, both on a visceral and an emotional level. Both cared very much for Sara, and wanted to make sure she was happy and healthy as her recent agitation was worrisome to all parties. Dace believed that Sara was having a difficult time submitting to other Tops, as she would get so caught up in her tormentor. I would be the first to dominate the woman, who did not come from her pack's immediate sphere of influence.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Sara moving, leaning back in her chair with entirely false nonchalance. When she raised dark eyes to meet mine, I could see the determination to succeed shining back at me. Swallowing a competitive, triumphant smile, I slipped into character more easily than I would have thought, given the circumstances.
"I assume you know why you're here," was my opening salvo, voice modulated to the calmest end of my ‘don't fuck with me' tone.
"I have no idea," she added to the game a bit defensively. "All I know is that I got pulled away from work and escorted down here."
"Really?" My tone went incredulous. "You have no idea why you're here?" When she shook her head, I allowed a brief smile to cross my face. "I'm here on behalf of Detective Sofia Curtis." That one took her completely off guard. Excellent. "It appears that you've been doing more than just letting your eyes occasionally wander."
A blink of surprise, just the barest flicker of realization in the depths of her eyes, and Sara was lamely trying to explain, "I, um, I don't have any idea what you're talking about."
I leaned over the table, smiling genial with a sharp edge of danger. "Oh, come on, Sara, you can be honest with me. Detective Curtis is a very beautiful woman, isn't she? I'm sure she's used to having people stare at her." And then my voice hardened. "But that doesn't give you the right to make her feel uncomfortable, does it?"
"What? I didn't--"
"Did you think you could do it and not bring it to the attention of your Daddy? Do you think she likes finding out that your eyes have been wandering? That she's not enough to keep you satisfied? That you've practically resorted to stalking to assuage your cravings?"
++ Dace ++
I stared at Ziva for a long moment, despite knowing she couldn't see me doing it. "Did she just--?"
"Yep," Sofia giggled, trying to swallow it. "‘Assuage her cravings'? Oh that's good."
Rolling my eyes at my packmate, I roughly yanked her into a headlock, grinning at the squeak of surprise as we watched Sara's reactions. This early into the game and she was already restlessly shifting in her chair. So far, my idea appeared to have been a sound one, despite the risk of the gamble. Ziva was a true wild card; funny, interesting, exotic and utterly dangerous. There was so much riding on what played out on the other side of the glass, so much time and trust and love. Hopefully, Sara would be feeling calmer once this was over.
"I am not a stalker," my sweet kitten retorted sharply to Ziva's accusation. "I don't know where you're getting that from, but it's not true."
Ziva snorted and pulled out a manila folder, tossing it to the table with a heavy slap that had the pictures spilling out. "These would tell another story, Miss Sidle."
The collection of pictures were familiar to me, as Tessa and I had spent hours pouring over them. While none had been doctored in the most extreme sense of the word, almost all had been modified. With shaking fingers, Sara leaned forward to gather the scattered glossies, leafing through them. Even seemingly innocent shots took on a new meaning in the light of these new allegations. It was a pain in the ass to get a good look at Sara like this, with her face in profile and her hair falling forward, so I flared my nostrils and dialed up my sense of smell. Curiosity mingled with her awakening arousal.
"Where the hell did you get these?" Sara accused flipping through the pictures over and over again, occasionally stopping to stroke one or another. "How long have you fuckers been following me? This isn't even legal, you know. I haven't even been arrested or read my Miranda rights. You can't hold me unless you do."
Ziva blinked placidly at her, and I found myself impressed by her flawless charade. Must be hell on perps. "If you really want me to arrest you, I can do that," she finally replied, calmly, evenly, never losing that edge of danger. "At the moment, I'm merely here at the request of Detective Curtis to warn you to stop this folly. You really are on a wild moose chase if you think it will come of anything." Ah, there it was, the mangled idiom that she seemed so good at. The thrum of Sara’s chuckle carried through the speaker and vibrated the glass. A look of self-disgust crossed Ziva's face before she suddenly sprang into action, hands slamming down on the table. "What is so funny?" The movement was so sudden, Sara jerked back in her chair, clearly startled. "Do you think this is all a game?"
"N--no, ma'am," Sara stuttered. "But -- but I'm not stalking Sofia."
With a roll of her eyes, Ziva leaned away from the table again, using her attitude to make herself more intimidating. Always an effective trick. "Of course you're not. Those pictures are lying, right? Give me a break, Sidle! How about this?" Out of the box came another folder. Flipping it open, she pointed to the pages inside. "Your fingerprints were found all over Detective Curtis' desk and locker. Even inside her locker. How do you explain that?"
Sara shook her head. "No, you don't understand. I've gotten things for Sofia from her locker many times. Left things on her desk. Coffee, soda, food… flowers." The last word was so soft, I could barely hear it with my Sentinel hearing, and I doubted even Ziva heard it clearly.
++ Sofia ++
Had Sara said something important? By Dace’s expression, she just might have, but when no information was forthcoming, I shrugged and reminded myself to ask her later.
"And what about this?" Ziva dug into the box again and pulled out my favorite blue button-down shirt, pointing to the collar where a smear of lipstick could be seen. I smirked at the sight of that reddish stain, remembering the night that Sara had put it there. It was the first time that Dace had ‘allowed' us to play without her supervision. I'd practically passed out from the sheer creative sensuality Sara had displayed.
Sara's sudden movement brought me back to the present. She jumped up to pace back and forth, running rough fingers through her hair. "I'm not stalking Sofia!" she growled. "What's it going to take for you to understand that?"
"The evidence shows that you are stalking her, Miss Sidle." Now Ziva was on her feet, standing directly in Sara's path, more intimidating that someone her size had any right to be. "So unless you can give me a good alibi against all of these allegations, I'm going to have to turn in my findings to both Detective Curtis and your Daddy. And I'm sure you understand that your Daddy will be quite displeased by this. You belong to her, Sara Sidle. That's why you wear this, isn't it?" Abruptly, the collar glinting against Sara's throat was hooked by an elegant finger, roughly pulling the taller woman down into her personal space.
The three tags of ownership and protection chimed softly as Ziva's fingers disturbed them away from Sara's skin.
As strongly as Sara flinched, I half-expected to hear one of her safe words. Without thought, I stretched out a hand to grip Dace's forearm where it rested around my neck. She needed grounding just as much as Sara did. It wouldn't do either of them any good if Dace went charging in that room without just cause. Slowly, her muscles relaxed when Sara glanced up toward the mirror for a moment, as if trying to find Dace and convey she was okay.
"I don't do anything that would jeopardize my relationship with my Daddy," she said in a low, clear voice. "Every single time I've had anything to do with Sofia outside of work, Daddy has either been there or has given me permission to play."
With startling quickness, Ziva’s hand opened enough to shove carefully at the base of Sara’s throat, closer to collarbones than windpipe, and Sara stumbled back. With little more than a squeak of surprise and a flawless twist at the chunky silver collar, Sara was on her knees, eyes wide.
"Nice," Dace breathed in admiration, and I quirked an unconscious smile, totally caught up in the action.
++ Sara ++
Sent heavily to my knees by the hard hand at my collar, I winced slightly as dull pain blossomed from the contact with the industrial mats on the floor. The rough treatment only fueled the thrill singing in my veins. As I hadn't been privy to the play sessions between Ziva and Tessa, I had no idea what kind of Top she would be, and that very uncertainty was making me even hotter than I expected. There was no biting back the whimper of need.
Ziva chuckled darkly, jerking me closer by the collar, where I could only stare helplessly into her mysterious, dark gaze. "Like that, do you?" She purred, the words sounding even more enticing laced in her unusual accent. She heavily ran her other hand down my body, tweaking a nipple sharply, and grinned when I whined and arched into her touch. "Your Daddy certainly was right about you being an eager little slut."
"Yes, ma'am," I murmured, eyes closing to savor the sensations.
"So tell me, Sara," she continued in that same silky voice. "Pictures of you following Sofia like a shadow or a lovesick puppy, your fingerprints all over her desk and locker, and your lipstick on her collar. What could that possibly mean?"
"I want her," whispered into the room, before I realized the words were more than thought.
"Want her how? To fuck you? To replace your Daddy?"
"Yes. No!" My eyes snapped open with the intensity of my denial. "Nobody can replace my Daddy. Maybe…"
"Maybe?" Ziva prodded when I didn't continue, and twisted my nipple sharply again.
Hesitation froze my throat for a moment as I enjoyed the pleasurable pain arrowing directly into my groin. "Maybe share me?"
With a snort, Ziva twisted the collar until it momentarily dug into my throat. It was one of Daddy's favorite tricks and my cunt spasmed in reaction. "And if either of them said no?"
"I don't know," I whispered again, not really wanting to consider that option, so I moved under her touch, pulling back from her proximity.
The hand on my collar shifted and Ziva spun my discarded chair around before dropping into it to face me while I stared at her shoes. Confusion rushed through my mind, playing tricks on me. A gentle touch coaxed my chin up, but I had a terrible time meeting those knowing eyes. But Ziva forced me to do just that, gripping my chin tightly when I tried to drop my gaze. "Sara?" Her voice was more normal, not the Top role she'd been playing.
A deep, calming breath helped steady me. This wasn't worth a safe word, damn it! I met her gaze long enough to convey that, hopefully, and leaned into her touch again. "If Daddy or Sofia said no, I'd obey their wishes," I finally said honestly, hoping the two women in question actually heard and, more importantly, understood. "Daddy has invested so much in my training," my voice trailed off, the lump in my throat choking, before I added shyly, "and in me." As much as Sofia attracted me, the idea of losing Dace terrified me beyond words. But Daddy had gone to a lot of trouble to do this for me, and I felt her love as clearly as a sweet caress and felt calm wash over me. Centered once more, I leaned up toward Ziva, smiling coquettishly. "And now she's sent you to pursue me." Without thought, I bent forward to gently brush the crown of my head against her chin, arching into her like a shy kitten. When Ziva didn't react negatively, I shifted and dropped sweet little kisses along her jaw, but never dared to press a kiss to her lips without permission. "How could I possibly say no?"
The exact sequence of events in the next few seconds would remain a blur until my dying day. One moment I was nuzzling shyly at Ziva's throat and jaw line; the next found me flat on my back on the floor, Ziva straddling me with a pair of cuffs and a clip in either hand. And the devious smile that spread across her face? I was soaking wet in a heartbeat, unable to do more than whimper and make futile attempts at squirming under Ziva's surprisingly solid frame. After a few more seconds, my wrists were strapped neatly into the cuffs, which were then clipped to my collar. There was no way I was going to move from the floor without her permission or assistance, but a quick touch reassured me that I could easily reach the clip to free myself if necessary. It was one of my Daddy's favorite innovations for our play.
Ziva's low, sensual chuckle raised the hairs on my neck. "You really are a little slut, aren't you, Sara?"
"Yes, ma'am," I replied proudly, now caught up thoroughly in her charm. "It's one of the things Daddy appreciates about me."
That comment rewarded me with a sharp twist of both nipples, and I cried out in aroused shock. "Somehow I don't think your Daddy would appreciate your prideful tone, would she?"
"No, ma'am," was all I could whisper, squirming again. Damn these dominant women in my life who had such sexy voices!
Ziva stared at me, those dark eyes boring into me with a laser's intensity. I was helpless to look away, and felt very much like Darzee's wife in the wake of Nagaina's deadly flat stare. Suddenly she smirked and flicked a small knife from… Okay, I had no idea where it came from, just that it hadn't been there, and suddenly it was glinting in her grip.
++ Ziva ++
"You have far too many clothes on, Sara," I purred softly, turning the knife slightly to let the light catch and reflect off its white polished surfaces. "And with those cuffs on, you can't really strip for me, can you?" Sara shook her head, eyes wide and intent on the odd-looking ceramic blade in my hand. "I hope you don't have any sentimental attachments to this outfit?"
"No, ma'am." The words were barely breathed, accompanied by a strong shudder that traveled the length of her supple body.
"Good. Now don't move."
Not waiting for her response, I deftly slit up the center of her shirt and peeled back the layers to reveal the lacy red bra that barely covered her breasts. Both nipples were still taut points under the lace from the earlier teasing, and I couldn't resist leaning over to suck at first one, then the other. Sara rubbed her forearms against my head in encouragement, whining and arching into my mouth.
"Ziva, please…" she begged prettily and I felt my jeans soaking up my own arousal.
"Shh, Sara," I murmured soothingly and trailed the flat of the blade along the scalloped edge of her bra. "Relax, and don't move a muscle."
Instantly there was no movement, except for the faint thrum of her heightened heartbeat beneath skin and bone. Ever so carefully, I slipped the tip of the blade between her skin and the scant material resting against it. It split easily with a minimum of pressure, and I was able to openly ogle her perky breasts. Once again, I trailed the flat of the blade along each breast and down along her sternum. Sara’s breath hitched raggedly and the tip of the insanely sharp ceramic blade just nicked her skin.
I tsked at her remorsefully, not actually worried about the tiny cut. "You moved, Sara. I told you not to."
A sharp whine of sudden surprise from the small pain reached my ears, then Sara groaned as I pressed the flat of the blade to the tiny wound, and raised it to my mouth and delicately flicked the tip of my tongue out to lap at the tiny red splash of color on the metal. There was a pinch of pain and I frowned slightly, the metallic taste of my own blood mixing with hers from the knife. The rich, dark eyes of my willing captive widened at the sight and I smirked deviously. With a quick flick of my wrist, the knife was left quivering, tip buried in the mat next to Sara's head.
It was humorous to watch how conflicted Sara was, her eyes torn between watching me and or that deadly shark tooth-like blade so close to her head. Enjoying this enormously, I let my eyes trail heavily down the length of her torso, returning repeatedly to the small drop of blood welling on her sternum. Certainly the wound was little more than a papercut, the blade was so fine, but I could see by Sara's expression that the pain was an unexpected thrill.
"Oh god," she moaned wantonly, arching up as I leaned over to gently run the flat of my tongue across the droplet of blood. As I nipped lightly against the wound, Sara's hips shot up against me so roughly, I was nearly unseated. That wouldn't do at all.
"What's the matter, chatatula [kitten]?" I purred, fingers unerringly teasing her nipples even as my own ached with need. "Little Kitten, do you need something?"
"Fuck," she whimpered and I chuckled with dark delight.
"I think I can arrange that, but first you need to answer my question," was not the answer Sara wanted and the whining illustrated that, but she nodded nonetheless. "Good girl. Now tell me the truth, Sara. Who do you wish would walk through that door right now to fuck you?"
Sara stared up at me, incoherent with her need, and I could practically see the smoke rising from her ears as her brain raced wildly. "I don't care. Daddy or Sofia… or both at once."
“Greedy slut,” I admonished leaning in to catch her nipple between my teeth, applying just enough pressure to suck the breath from her lungs. “That was no kind of answer.” Feeling reckless, and adoring the silent begging, I repeated the bite on her other nipple, before scooting down a bit to straddle her thighs and knees, and pressed a hand between her legs. "Oh my goodness," I purred, rubbing roughly. "Someone seems to have a bit of a problem. Whatever shall we do about that?"
"Please, Ziva," she whimpered. "Fuck me."
"Oh no," I replied, moving up on all fours to stare down at her. "It's not going to be that easy, Sara." I pressed a demanding kiss to her lips, knowing she could taste the blood on my tongue. It was a vacuum of sensation, the taste of her, the rough wind of our mingled breathing. Some time must have passed before I roughly tore myself away, sitting up and smiling darkly when I saw her swollen lips. Without giving her a chance to truly recover, my mouth began to leave a rough trail down her body: dark hickeys, bite marks, the red lines of my nails scraping down her sides. Reaching her jeans, I glanced up at her from beneath my lashes. Sweet god, she was a delectable tableau of barely controlled desire, the dark eyes so like my own burning hotly. I roughly bit the skin just above her waistband and leaned down to inhale deeply at the apex of her thighs. "You smell good enough to eat, Sara. Tell me, are you kosher?" I asked with an evil grin.
++ Dace ++
Watching Ziva topple my sweet Sara to the floor was poetry in motion. I was getting so damned horny just watching her work over my Basker.
"There you are!" Abby's exuberant voice jarred along my nerves after the relative silence of only our ragged breathing.
"Shh!" we both scolded and I snaked out a long arm to roughly haul her into my side.
"Catherine told me to come over here after I finished running my tests,” Abby whispered good-naturedly, her usual happy self. “What's going—" Her voice trailed off into a breathy, "oh," when grabbed her chin to point her eyes to the scene before us. A pink tongue flickered over the immaculate dark lipstick and I chuckled before returning my attention to where Ziva cuffed and clipped Sara to her collar. Shifting slightly to accommodate both women, I loosened my grip around Abby's neck and let my hand dangle just inside her shirt, fingers absently stroking against her sternum. "Are they really doing it?" she breathed.
"Mm-hmm," I muttered as Sofia distractedly rubbed her cheek against the side of my breast. "It's going mostly according to plan. What the fuck is she doing?"
The oddly white flash of knife nearly had me through the glass to beat Ziva senseless. It was only the quick intervention of the women to either side that kept me where I was, particularly Abby's throaty chuckle and comment on still wondering where that knife had been hidden. That, and the unexpectedly wanton reaction from Sara. I had to admit, it was sexy as hell to see that t-shirt being slit from her skin, same for the bra. It wasn't like I didn't make sure my Sara was well-stocked in the fetish wear I liked her in.
When the blade nicked her pale skin, I stiffened slightly, and once again, it was Abby's reaction that grounded me. "Oh my god," she squealed softly, grabbing my scarred wrist almost painfully. "I had no idea Ziva was a closet vamp, but it totally makes sense." She shuddered as I leaned in to rasp a nail up along her sternum, along the same spot where Ziva'd marked Sara. "Oh fuck me," she muttered matter-of-factly. "I think I just came. I so need to change my panties."
I snorted at that and glanced down at the odd sensation against my left breast to find Sofia doing something between a giggle and gasp. Shifting my hand, I slipped into her shirt to repeat the scrape on her, as well, and chuckled darkly when she nearly jumped clean out of her skin. "Problems, Sofie?"
"Fuck you, Candy," she muttered, squawking when I lightly tightened my grip around her neck.
"All in good time," I replied placidly, and we all moaned as Ziva plundered Sara's mouth ruthlessly. Listening to the delightfully needy moans and whimpers, I was growly with need. It didn't surprise me that I could smell the same arousal on both of my bookends. Nor did it shock me when Sofia turned slightly and nipped at the side of my breast. She knew as well as I did just what Sara was like in this state, and I could tell she wanted to go in and ravish our sweet little sub senseless. But that was for later, after she'd performed so nicely for Ziva.
"Dace?" came the plaintive moan from my blonde partner as Ziva left her marks down Sara's body.
"Need something?" I asked lightly, my tone belying my own arousal, and I scraped my finger between her breasts again. At her jerky nod, I shifted again, letting go of Abby to pull Sofia in front of me. While we were still able to watch, I unbuttoned her fly and slipped my left hand into the warm, damp material. "Mmm, no panties, Sofia?" I purred, fingertips kneading at her pubic hair, just missing her clit. "Hoping you were going to get lucky?"
She squirmed, trying to get my hand to move lower. "Fucking tease," she growled. The sound morphed into a needy keen as I brushed a fingertip across her clit, and she leaned back to grind her ass against me. Caught up by the noises from the other room, her eyes were drawn to Ziva teasing Sara once again. When Ziva bit one of Sara's nipples, I let my hand glide up under Sofia's shirt to cup her breast. Two of my fingers slid down to either side of her clit, massaging lightly.
As Ziva leaned in to sniff at Sara's crotch, Sofia moaned and licked her lips. "Bet her jeans are soaked," I murmured in Sofia's ear. "You know how she gets off on this kind of thing."
++ Sofia ++
"I don't care if she's kosher or not," I muttered in response to Ziva's question. "She tastes fucking fantastic."
"Do tell," Abby drawled suggestively, curiously, and startled me out of my lusty stupor. Well, a little anyway. No one could ignore the talented hand that was currently down my pants. Stronger than I had tried and failed.
"Oh yeah," I reminisced, glancing Abby’s way for only a moment. "Sun-warmed sarsaparilla with a hint of salted honey and cinnamon." I grinned at her mouthing 'salted honey' and cast my eyes up to my tall friend, patting her cheek. "You'll just have to trust me on this one… unless her Daddy here decides to let you have a taste yourself."
"And Daddy is gonna spank your ass for being a tease," Dace growled softly near my ear chewing at that tendon between neck and shoulder. Thankfully, through my shirt as to minimize marking. God, I took enough shit from the other detectives about this unusual friend of mine that helped in my real life too. Sensing my distraction, Dace’s fingers increased their speed and pressure against my clit, and she growled in that particular way that was hers and hers alone, "tho' that poetic description was nicely done, so I might think about reconsidering."
I whined softly, hips alternately arching into her hand and grinding back against the bulge in her jeans. Eyes returning to the other room, I realized that Sara'd been stripped of her jeans and panties. Ziva's fingers were teasing at her clit, alternately slipping into the heat of her cunt.
"Oh my, chatatula," Ziva drawled sexily as Sara whined and lifted her ass off the ground to get more contact from her. "So hot, so wet, so needy. Are you always this much of a greedy slut?"
"Yes, ma'am. Please…"
"Please what, Sara?" Ziva asked and shifted up to suck on Sara's nipple again. More of a bite than a suck, and I actually squealed a bit when Dace grabbed my same nipple and gave me a hard tweak, chuckling arrogantly. Even as I muttered dire threats that made Dace laugh, Sara wailed and tugged at her handcuffs.
"Fuck me, please!"
"Oh no, chatatula, I don't think so. Not yet." Standing, Ziva glowered Toppily at the deer-in-headlights Sara still on the floor. “Get on your hands and knees.” Scrambling, Sara did her best, her movements jerky and uncoordinated with lust. “Hurry up!”
Dace breathed a growl across my neck, making the fine hairs stand up and my nerves to burn like ice. So damn scary, and so damn hot…
A squawk of surprise from Ziva made me grin, as Sara's face was suddenly buried in her crotch. It was reassuring to see the strong façade crack as the Israeli woman briefly closed her eyes, expression gone stark and hungry, grabbing Sara’s hair with rough fingers. I knew Sara was in trouble now, even as I grabbed at Dace’s hips for support from my knees growing shaky. Sure enough, Ziva angrily wrenched Sara’s head back, putting the taller brunette back on her knees with a hiss of pain and pleasure. It took awhile to get Sara to a place where pain released her from the tight bonds she kept on herself, but her expression said it all. "Did you ask for that?" Ziva snarled, expression fierce, face close to Sara’s, all fire and intimidation. They were good together.
"No, ma'am." The words were having trouble getting through to my brain, both from Sara’s low tone and my overpowering arousal turning my spine to hot lightening. "Let -- let me make it up to you?"
"Ziva won't know what hit her," Dace chuckled, shifting to plunge a couple fingers into my clenching cunt. ‘Bout damn time! "Come on, Sofie, let go."
That was all the invitation I needed and grunted softly, bucking into her hand until orgasm broke over me in a blinding wave. The glass of the two-way mirror was cool against my forehead and hand, my panting painting swaths of short-lived hazes of steam. With effort, I focused on the action in the other room again, trying to ignore Dace’s quiescent hand, curled protectively around my crotch. Ziva was sprawled back in the wooden chair, pants strewn on the table, and had one hand tangled in Sara's hair. Her head was thrown back and she groaned as Sara's head bobbed expertly between her legs.
"Come on, Ziva," Abby muttered from my right, startling me into remembering she was even there. A quick glance showed her hand moving furiously under her short skirt, her carefully made-up face scrunched up in lusty concentration. "Quit fucking around! I want you to come first."
Smirking, I curled my hand around Dace’s, only the fabric of my pants separating our skins. While she might seem to be relaxed, I could feel the small tension and tremors in her hand, echoing up her arm, through the slender body pressed into mine. “Put your hands on my shoulders,” I instructed quietly, biting back a hiss of overstimulation as her hand retreated from the warmth of my pants and the sexual tingle in the wake of her touch. Wriggling my hands behind me, between our bodies, I found the button fly and tugged it open. Growling and tightening up her grip, Dace breathed hotly against my neck and I just chuckled. "Easy, Dace," I breathed, knowing that she could hear me clearly. “You just watch the show and let me take care of you. Just gonna take the edge off until you can get her to do it properly.” The familiar strap on was firm and soft against my fingers, it always weirded me out how realistic the thing felt, and I toyed with the length of it. As the gelatinous layer around the hard core rippled against Dace’s clit, she began to breathe harder, body shivering.
Both of us froze for a moment, startled as Ziva made a terrific noise, almost like she was in pain, pulling hard enough at Sara’s hair to get her to cry out for mercy.
“Nice,” Dace growled in a deceptively matter-of-fact tone, and I took up the stroking of the toy once again. After so long, I knew Dace's libido well enough to be able to coax a pretty strong orgasm out of her, solely by the tone of her growling. Wiggling my ass into her crotch and jerking the phallus with a bit more force, I heard that terrifying tone rumble through Dace’s voice. It was something out of a horror movie as the monster tore the life from its victim. Time had taught me to appreciate that sound, the primitive release in my animal-like friend and lover.
Drawing out Dace’s release with my fingers, I continued to grind against her and tease her clit as Ziva wailed in what I guessed was Hebrew, followed closely by Abby's orgasmic squeals.
As they caught their breath, we watched Sara nuzzle Ziva into a second orgasm, all the while squirming wantonly. I knew that sweet little wiggle of Sara's quite well, had brought it on several times while playing. It was time to get more involved.
++ Abby ++
A second serrated flutter of ecstasy made me clench my teeth as Ziva ranted in what must be her native tongue. It had taken a damn long time for me to admit how she revved my motor, but I was deeply in that carnal groove now. Seeing her all flushed and relaxed, winding down from the throes of orgasm, hearing her sexy voice in that fluid language…
I was a mess.
The Blonde Squad came to my rescue, ducking under my arms to bodily haul my shaking self out one door and into the next. Oh, the way that room smelled… heavenly. Sara shrank to the floor like a puppy expecting to get berated, or worse, while Ziva struggled to sit up. One wore a startled, hungry look that was aimed at my human crutches. The other wore an equally hungry look, combined with concern, aimed directly at…me. Oh my.
"Abby?" Her voice was even huskier than I'd expected, cracking alarmingly, making me smile at the unexpected charm of it. "Are you all right? What did you two do to her?"
Glancing at Dace when she shifted slightly, I saw her roll her eyes. "Helped her in here," she deadpanned and gave me a swift smack on the ass that made me squeak and flush.
Ziva slid from the table and shook herself out, striding over with intent, not the least self-conscious about the fact that she was half-naked. This woman really did wreak some serious havoc with my sensibilities. All arrogance and pride and danger. Be still my heart!
There was a moment of hesitation just out of reach, where the boiling dark eyes flickered from one blonde to the other. One elegant hand stretched out toward me, as if to make sure I was all right. With some silent signal, Dace and Sofia slipped away, draping my captured arms over the shoulders of this exotic woman who made me so damn hot. When Ziva didn’t cringe away or threaten to shoot me, I leaned back against the door in deference to my still-shaking knees and dropped my arms to her waist to pull her close.
"Abby?" she asked curiously, the husky tone making me quiver.
"Do you know how fucking hot that was?" Escaped me in typical blunt fashion, and the dark brows arched up. Ah well, there was no point in playing coy anymore. "Made me want to do this." And with that scant warning, I leaned in closer, willing her to meet me halfway. Didn’t quite work that way, as she remained unresponsive for a moment, her mouth soft and tempting against mine. But don’t let it be said that Ziva David isn’t a smart girl, and an adaptable one. After that brief hesitation, she softened, and I was treated to the longest, most meltingly sexy kiss I could ever imagine.
Oxygen finally made me pull back, and she stared at me blankly. "Abby?" she asked again, as if she didn't know anything else to say.
"I came three times watching you, Ziva," I whispered, giving into the temptation to touch her further, sliding my hands over the curve of waist and hips. "The dominating thing, the attitude, the knife, ohmygod the knife! I had no idea you would sex play with knives and blood. I came when I saw that, and nobody touched me, not even me. And the Hebrew? I don't know what you said, but fuck it was hot!"
“I was speaking in Hebrew?”
Chuckling at her confusion, I leaned in again, gratified that she met me halfway this time, and we got to know one another better.
A whimpering from behind us finally got our attention and we turned to watch Sara suckling at Dace's fingers like a starving dog. A grin split my face, remembering where those fingers had been, and Dace leaned over to sharply slap Sara's ass, making her squirm and whine even more. "Are you being an impatient slut? Maybe I should just send you home without any relief, hmm?" Sara's eyes got big and she stilled immediately, ducking her head as though expecting a blow. My throaty chuckle brought Dace’s gaze to mine. "Sara, go see if Abby has anything she needs cleaning off."
The brunette immediately crawled over and sat back on her heels to look at me expectantly. Shrugging with the pleasurable unexpectedness of this whole surreal scene, I offered her my right hand and watched Ziva's face as Sara sucked and licked my fingers clean of my own lubrication from earlier. Ziva stroked Sara's hair almost fondly and I found myself a little jealous that she was getting that treatment instead of me. Yeah, I so needed to make sure that Ziva understood what I wanted beyond any chance of some stupid misunderstanding. We’d gotten off on the wrong foot and now we needed to get back on track and…
"Come here, Sara," Dace called softly, derailing my thoughts and Sara instantly let go of my fingers with a smile and crawled back over by her two blonde lovers. "Do you want it?" Sara nodded eagerly. "Do you deserve it?" Ah, looked like that was a trick question, as Sara hesitated, hunching down even further into her subservient pose at Dace’s boots.
“Only… if you think I do, Daddy,” she whispered, voice tense with need.
Looming fiercely over the cowering woman, Dace’s voice dropped into a low, dangerous range that made the hairs on my body stand up and everyone in the room go very, very still. “I think,” she began slowly. “I think that I will make you wait, make you marinate, make you think about these sexy women, make you think about how you ache like a junkie, that hole between your legs like a furnace, a bottomless pit, you need it, need it like air, like water, like food.”
Okay, it wasn’t just Sara that was dripping now. Even Sofia’s startled, hungry expression echoed Ziva’s and, I was quite sure, my own. Sara keened softly, creping forward, chin on the mat, ass waggling in the empty air, kissing Dace’s boots, stroking the leather with shaking fingers.
With false nonchalance, one didn’t have to have enhanced senses to know how riled up she was, Dace looked back at Sofia. “Dunno, Sofie. Should I?” Clearly startled from her carnal haze, Sofia actually jumped in surprise, blinking idiotically for a minute. Chuckling in delight, Dace picked up the foot that Sara had been worshipping to set it heavily on the bowed neck, pinning her to the floor. “That was a damn nice scene, Ziva. Would you two like to stay and help reward Sara for a job well done?" The boot pressed down, making Sara squeak and moan. “In my own good, goddamn time.”
The broad grin that split my face was not at all feigned. "Hell yeah! Just tell me what to do!"
All of us froze at Ziva’s sharp tone. Was she having second thoughts about all this? Blazing brown eyes pinned me, and I went weak at the knees. Seriously, every muscle in my body went semi-liquid. Damn, but I was in the best kind of trouble. “We need to talk. You, me, privacy.”
Before I could say something potentially stupid, Dace chuckled and dug into her pocket for a set of keys. “There’s a couch next door, or a nicely furnished room two doors down.” The keys were snatched out of midair but my sexy agent and I marveled at her skills. “If you stay, you’ll get a show. I’m not done with this slut yet.”
Some low, sensual sound echoed up from the depths and I would have collapsed if not for her sturdy, slender frame wrapped around me. “We can take care of ourselves, you concentrate on your baby there.” Once more, she turned to me, a slow grin making me dizzy. “I want to see how hard it is to get you out of those boots. All of those buckles are making me crazy!”
There were far worse ways to begin a relationship than lust, respect and laughter.
We were off to a good start.