#it made me laugh in the gc and i had to steal it (with permission)

[justkindaoverhereobsessing]

just another day at the office

In which a pregnant and hormonal Ziva is in deep need of a middle-of-the-workday quickie. This is just smut, friends, zero plot at all.

Thanks to @indestinatus for some of the dialogue! 

___________________

It starts with a vague feeling of discomfort, something Ziva can’t even identify. There’s just the sense that something is amiss with her body, something in need of fixing. It makes her restless and she shifts in her seat, trying to focus on the computer work at hand. The words swim on her screen, though, and she crosses and uncrosses her legs involuntarily. She feels… twitchy.

And for some reason, she can’t stop thinking of Tony.

At very nearly five months pregnant, she has long since been excluded from fieldwork. Instead, her days are filled with more of the same—desk work, paperwork, computer work, and frequent bathroom breaks. She really, really misses not being pregnant. 

It takes nearly twenty minutes to figure out what’s wrong.

She’s never been so turned on in her life.

If not for the distraction of work and the fact that such feelings are entirely out of place in this setting, she would have realized it sooner, but it’s no matter. Now that she understands what her body is aching for, she can’t stop thinking about it. 

Every shift in her seat—and there are a lot of them—sends waves of longing through her. Every time she leans forward to type, her bra brushes slightly against her nipples, making her bite her lip to keep from making some very inappropriate noises. She ends up closing out of her email entirely, because she keeps typing her thoughts rather than what the message is meant to say; there’s little room in a professional memo for the word ‘orgasm’. 

Finally, she sends a single text to Tony when she feels like she’s about to lose her mind.

When you are finished at the crime scene, please hurry back here. 

Then she drops her head down onto her folded arms on her desk, her thoughts flipping back and forth between scolding the baby for its bad hormonal timing and wondering if she shouldn’t just fake sick and go home early to take care of herself.

This is getting almost painful.

___________________

Half an hour later, an out-of-breath Tony appears in front of her desk. “Ziva, are you okay?” he asks, panting slightly. “I got your text and replied, but you didn’t answer.”

His face is like a breath of fresh air to Ziva, who is deeply struggling by now. “Tony!” she cries in reply. “I need to talk to you. Come. Now.” 

She gets to her feet with a grimace, a hand supporting her growing belly, and brushes Tony off when he tries to help. If she’s touched right now, she might just explode.

“Are you okay?” Tony repeats, though he keeps his distance. “Are you in pain? Is the baby okay?”

“We are fine. You talk too much.”

She leads the way to the men’s bathroom, pursing her lips as the innocent friction of her legs rubbing together from walking does strange things to her state of arousal. 

She nudges Tony inside, following him in and locking the door behind them.

Tony is—understandably—a little confused and more than a little concerned by her behavior. “Ziva, what are you—”

She cuts him off with a fierce kiss.

He kisses her back, but she can tell his heart isn’t in it. He’s too busy trying to figure out what’s going on.

He figures it out real quick when Ziva starts to undo his belt buckle, though, and he breaks the kiss, backing a foot or two away. “We can’t. Not at work.”

“Why not?” Ziva demands, sexually frustrated enough that this small rejection almost makes her want to cry. 

“Well, I’m pretty sure Gibbs would be pissed, for starters. This would be like taking rule twelve and putting in a blender, honestly.” Disregarding his protests, Ziva starts to unbutton her own shirt, draping it carelessly over a stall door. 

“We are not dating. We are married,” she reminds him.

“Okay, but I’m pretty sure no-sex-in-the-office is still an implied rule.” Tony’s voice sounds distracted, though, and his eyes are glued to her chest—they widen when her bra joins her shirt up on the plastic wall.

“No one has ever specifically told us not to,” she disagrees, stepping out of her pants and panties in one go. 

“That’s the thing about implications, though, right…?”

Ziva can smell a victory, but Tony’s not completely convinced yet. Whatever, she’ll start without him.

It’s a little awkward to maneuver with her belly in the way, but she hops up onto the counter between sinks and props a foot up beside her so her legs are spread—then, she doesn’t hesitate to reach down and start sliding her fingers through the wetness she finds there. 

She lets out the smallest involuntary moan, and Tony latches onto it. “I don’t think you can be quiet enough to get away with this, Ziva.” The tent in his pants says he really doesn’t care, though.

He’s right—she is a bit of a screamer. She’s way too far gone to care right now, however. Pregnancy hormones are a bitch. “Then you had better come muffle my voice with your mouth,” Ziva decides, beginning to slide two fingers in and out of her own slick warmth. It draws another moan, and, almost looking like he’s in a trance, Tony starts to step toward her. 

“But we have work to do,” he tries feebly, one last time. 

“When in your life have you chosen your job over pleasuring a woman, Tony?” Ziva demands. “Especially a woman who is pregnant with your child. I do not know who you are or what you have done with my husband, but I need him back now… Or at least I need his cock.”

That finally convinces Tony, and he laughs, drawing close enough to stand between her legs. “Alright, alright,” he agrees. “Only because I love you. And because I know you’re in this hormonal state because of me.” As he talks, he gently moves her hand aside, replacing her fingers with his own and beginning to move them skillfully as she hisses. “And because you’re the sexiest woman in the world. But just this once, okay? We’re going to have a hard time supporting a baby if we lose our jobs over this.”

He doesn’t wait for her answer, though, instead leaning in to kiss her as he starts to work his fingers harder below. “Tony,” she protests against his lips, “I do not have it in me to withstand much foreplay today. Are you ready—”

“I’m always ready for you, sweet cheeks,” Tony purrs immediately. 

“Oh, thank god.” Ziva still whines a little when he withdraws his fingers to undo his belt and pants and shove them down with his boxers, but she doesn’t have to miss him for long. 

After just a moment, she can feel him at her entrance, hot and insistent, and he raises his hands to start gently teasing her nipples. She groans loudly enough that he laughs and shakes his head at her. “Remember,” he murmurs, leaning in to touch his forehead to hers with a teasing, affectionate smile on his face, “no yelling.” 

“I will yell if you do not fuck me now, Tony.”

“As you wish,” he answers, and one of his hands leaves her breast to position himself so he can push in with no further taunting. 

Ziva immediately groans, and Tony kisses her sharply to cut off the noise. It’s a good thing, too, because as soon as he starts to move in earnest, she finds it impossible to control her noises. Pregnancy just makes her so sensitive, and she’s pretty sure this would be a euphoric experience even if she wasn’t already so painfully aroused before he even arrived.

Unfortunately for Tony, this quickie really will have to be quick, because it barely takes Ziva thirty seconds to orgasm. She bites Tony’s lower lip—he doesn’t seem to mind—and manages to mostly stifle the cry that comes out of her throat as she comes harder than she has in ages.

There certainly are upsides to this pregnancy.

As soon as the aftershocks of her orgasm stop, though, Ziva has to push Tony away; now she’s too sensitive. He groans a little, but he immediately pulls out and gives her space. “Just using me to achieve your own ends there, Ninja?” he asks wryly, equal parts amused and sexually frustrated.

“Always,” Ziva answers with a satisfied grin, and she accepts his hand to help her slide off of the counter. “Do you want me to…” She licks her lips suggestively instead of finishing her sentence.

Tony laughs. “As much as I’d love that, it should probably wait til we get home tonight. I wouldn’t make you get on your knees in a dirty bathroom when you’re five months pregnant, love.” The mirthful affection in his tone is impossible to miss. “I’ll just… ya know. And then I’ll go back to my desk. You go ahead.”

Ziva sees the logic in this and gives him one last deep kiss for inspiration before swatting his bum and pushing him toward a stall. “Thank you, Tony,” she tells him, sincere but on the verge of laughter. 

“Thanks is all I get?” Tony asks as he waddles away, his trousers still pooled around his ankles. “You make me feel so cheap, woman.”

Ziva chuckles loudly and gets redressed as quickly as she can to the sounds of skin moving against skin and Tony’s voice emitting soft grunts.

He’s always been much better at quietness during sex than she has.

___________________

When Ziva makes it out to the bullpen, McGee and Gibbs are back at their own desks. “Where’ve you been, Ziva?” McGee asks curiously.

“I have been… doing stuff,” she answers noncommittally, moving toward her desk.

“Hi, I’m Stuff,” Tony says immediately behind her—Ziva hadn’t realized he followed her that closely out of the bathroom.

McGee’s eyerolls somehow always manage to outdo themselves, and this is no exception. “I was just fine with her explanation, Tony,” he complains.

“Get back to work, you three,” Gibbs interjects grumpily. The way he looks between Tony and Ziva leaves little doubt that he understands exactly what they just got up to, but having had a pregnant wife before himself… he doesn’t scold them. He gets it, and really, this isn’t the most ridiculous thing the David-DiNozzos have ever done in this building.

It’s just another day at the office, honestly.