For The Love Of All That Is Mova

Ziva was sitting at her desk, no case as of that day. She felt absolutely warm inside, and not just because of her wardrobe for that day. She was chatting with someone she truly cared for, and this gave her indescribably warm feelings inside. She was kicked back in her chair, with her feet up on her desk, which revealed her brown, high heeled boots with those perfectly tapered jeans. She stared intently at her phone, waiting for another text to return from the one and only, Monique Lisson. When it vibrated, an envelope-shaped icon popping up, she felt this excitement she never felt before. Upon opening it, her eyes danced across each letter, reading the text. 

Wanna do something crazy, Ziva? 


This brought confusion to her. What did she mean? She sent her a text back, asking the question. Biting her bottom lip with anticipation, she anxiously awaited a reply. She smiled a radiantly brilliant smile when the same icon popped up yet again. She read the message. 

I mean, you ever think about… doing something crazy with me?… Something… fun…. you know? ;) 

Furrowing her brows, she shook her head slightly. “No.” She said aloud, replying in text as well. Why on earth would Monique ask her a question like that? Unless…? No. It was impossible. She could not know of her feelings. She just couldn’t. It was impossible. Wasn’t it? Now, she bit her lip with nervousness. 

Perhaps u shld. 

Swallowing hard upon getting that message, Ziva was at a loss for words. What should she say back? Her thumbs nervously went to the keypad. She looked up from the electronic advice, her eyes scanning the empty squad room. Construction had done an amazing job with the rebuilding. She just wished they would have done something about those irritating orange walls. Her brown eyes darted back down to the phone. What to say? What to say? 
 
Why? 

That was all Ziva could think to say. It was a valid question, yes? Her breaths were shaky, nervous. This was completely unlike her. She knew this to be true.

Have you ever had sex over text message? 
Does that even count as sex? 

Monique, still in Columbia, chuckled at this. While it wasn’t actual sex, it can still be quite fun.

mmm… perhaps…. depends on your definition of sex. 

Ziva rolled her eyes at the phone. Her definition of sex was the kind of sex she wanted from Monique.  

My definition of sex? I don’t know… 

She paused her thumbs… shaky. She pushed the send button, not sure of what else to say. 

U dnt know what, Zee-vah? ;) 

Ziva swallowed, feeling heat rushing to her face, especially her cheeks and ears. 

I don’t know if I should, Monique. 
 

Monique saw the message and started cracking up. She definitely was going to have fun with this. 

Anyone else think she just might’ve gotten a text from Karina Lombard? ;) <3 

~ Just a little random something I wrote <3

We sat on that couch in Columbia but it felt as though we were miles apart. This tension between us was something I disliked a lot. I loved Monique and I would do anything for her. That is precisely why I did not listen to her, and stayed with her. She was cleaning her weapons. I had learned that from her. I set down the book I was reading and turned to look at her. Monique was so beautiful and I hated having her seem so angry with me. I let out an audible breath before I spoke.

“Are you mad at me?” I asked, a part of me knowing the answer.

“I am upset, yes.” She replied.

Her eyes were still on her weapons. She could not see the sadness plastered across my face and for this I was grateful. I kept my eyes down onto my lap, fiddling with my fingers a bit. She looked over to me. I felt her eyes on me.

“Ziva,” I heard her say softly.

“I am sorry.” I murmured in a low tone. “I just… I have gone much too long… without genuine happiness in my life.”

“Ziva.”

“Stop!” I insist, raising a hand at her to stop her words. “Just stop. Let me say this.”

I watched her as she nodded.

“You have no idea how hurt I was when you said those things to me. You do not realize that the only time my bed is cold is when you are not in it.” I say, pointing at her sternly. “This is my life and I want to live it happily… and-and I cannot do that if you are absent from it. Do you not know that?”

Tears were practically flowing from my eyes as this point. My emotions were all over the place, and I hated that. I felt like bursting out with tears. I had no idea how much the expression on my face broke her heart.

“Oh, Ziva.” She said so softly, her accent thickening.

A few tears reluctantly trickled down my face. She cupped my cheeks and brushed the tears away. My heart raced as she leaned in, kissing me gently, lovingly. Her every movement was deliberate and caring. I was completely captivated within that moment. My heart leaped into my throat as she lowered me back onto the couch, my legs positioned on either side of her hips.

“Let me take care of you tonight.” She whispered seductively.

My stomach tightening and I withdrew a sharp breath in response to her words. She pushed my jacket open and looked right into my eyes as she unbuttoned my shirt. I could literally feel that familiar warmth rushing through my veins and all my pleasured feelings flowing to that one place. I bit down onto my bottom lip as she opened my blouse. She bent down, kissing the flesh just below my collar bone. She kept going lower, her breath cascading across my flesh. I writhed beneath her, unable to resist her touch.

“Fuck.” I moaned out as she kissed the skin near my navel.

 I let out a tiny, desperate moan as her hands went to my belt. She unbuckled it and looked up at me, her coffee brown eyes filled with a mischief that left me bewildered by her. She kissed her way back up to my lips and kissed me for several moments before looking right into my eyes.

“I am glad you stayed.” 

“I don’t believe you.” I refuted defiantly.

She did not seem all that glad that I was staying in Columbia earlier. So I found it hard to believe her words.

“Oh? Is that so?” She asked, sounding almost daring.

“Yes.” I replied, crossing my arms.

“Let me show you just how glad I am.” 

Sitting there at that table, I looked at Ziva’s heart-shaped face; a face I had not looked  at so closely for so long. I missed her. I longed for her but she did not know what I was involved in here. As she talked about me to Chaplain Castro and Agent DiNozzo she made me seem so noble when in fact, I am nothing of the sort. My current life, so hectic… dangerous, I wanted to replace it with a potential future one. And I envisioned it with her. I looked in her eyes and we maintained that all too familiar eye contact we shared numerous times. If she know… she would never look at me the same way again, never again… would she?

Dreaming of happier time…. wishing she was here with me. But sadly, she is still in Columbia and I feel totally and utterly helpless. Would I ever see her again, hug her again, smile, laugh, have fun with her again? The fact that I did not know for certain scared me. I wanted so badly to tell her how I felt then, when she told me to leave… but no. I did not. I was too much of a coward… and I kept my mouth shut. Would I pay the price? I am now left with lonely days, just staring out the window and praying she would survive through it. I miss her so terribly my heart hurts. Is it possible to love someone so much that when they are gone, all I feel is sheer and utter pain?