Better then Good

When she stops to think about it Ziva realizes she can’t remember how they go here. Not that she’s thinking about it with Abby wrapped around her, one of the other woman’s hands tangled in her hair, Abby’s lips tracing a slow path of fire down her neck. Ziva can’t remember the steps they took to get from rivals, to friends, to this moment here in Ziva’s apartment, on Ziva’s bed. She remembers the rum only when she kisses Abby full on the mouth and tastes the sweet potent alcohol on the other’s lips, and lets her tongue run inside Abby’s mouth savoring it. Abby kisses her until Ziva can’t breathe, can’t think, doesn’t want to do anything but just lie there and kiss Abby, possibly forever. In the real world, where they both live and work, one is a forensic expert the other a spy and special agent, but right now they’re just two girls, two women, kissing together on a bed, bodies pressed so close it’s almost painful.
Abby’s free hand is running down Ziva’s body and sides and Ziva wants to take that hand and tell Abby she wants this to be slow, wants to remember it. Then Abby’s hand finds one of her breasts, her long fingers finding one of Ziva’s nipples through her shirt and bra and Ziva’s arching off the bed forgetting to say anything at all. Her own hands go to Abby, almost frantic to ridding the goth woman of her shirt and bra. Ziva finds her hands made almost clumsy by the things Abby is doing with her own hands and lips. Abby manages to get one leg between Ziva’s and just presses lightly up causing Ziva to gasp because even with the wonderful things Abby’s been doing she hasn’t really realized how aroused she’s become. Ziva’s hands move down tracing over Abby’s belly, flirting with her thighs trying to touch her where she knows Abby wants to be touched. They’re at an awkward angle though, and Ziva can’t quite reach Abby to take off her pants or even unbutton them and she realizes Abby isn’t going to be able to reach her either. She breaks the kiss they’ve been amerced in, pushing very gently against Abby’s shoulders.
“We can’t. Not at this angle.”
She’s breathless and vaguely incoherent and Abby laughs, her hair down, falling across her face, topless and panting. They scoot around on the bed frantically trying to take off what little clothes they’re still wearing and with anyone else it would have totally ruined the mood but when Abby grabs her by the ankle and pulls her flat on to her back then kisses her, Ziva finds her self arching up against the other woman totally captivated by the feel of smooth skin against smooth skin.
Sex is never like this for Ziva, she uses it as a tool, just one more way of gaining power over someone, or at her own pleasure and covenants, but never like this. Never just because it’s fun and she wants to touch and be touched by the other person with no particular goals in mind. They rock together, her and Abby, in a tangle of limbs and curves, clever hands and sloppy open-mouthed kisses. There is nothing calculated or planned about this, nothing elegant and practiced either, this is the first time and they don’t know each other’s bodies yet. Afterwards as they lay there curled around each other, both sweaty, satisfied and exhausted Ziva thinks it wasn’t the best sex she’s ever had, then realizes it doesn’t have to be, because having it be Abby who is touching her and being able to touch Abby makes it good. Better then good, Abby makes it perfect.