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Gibbs and Ziva, 'Zibbs', their journey together has seen mistrust, faith, loyalty, forgiveness and baseball, but what happens if both of them do not want their relationship to be labelled and Father/Daughter, what if they both want something more? Be aware that this story contains suggestive language and adult themes which are not suitable for younger readers. PLEASE REVIEW.
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If I didn't envy the punch bag then I probably would have felt sorry for it. Ziva was in full flow, her muscles following every demand she requested. In its ferociousness there was also beauty, her punches controlled and precise, the way her hips moved to add power to her intended target and the way her leg extended into her kicks, beautiful. I could have watched her forever, if it wasn't for the strong beating of my heart I could hear in my ears, indicating a potential cardiac arrest was about to occur.

- It was not just my heart rate that seemed to be rising, if the tightness in my pants is anything to go by!

I had two choices it seems, the first was to stay and release all of my current tension via the punch bag, the second was to leave and follow social etiquette rule number one; no hard-on's in public!

- I have few beliefs in this world, one of them being Rule number 39. . . there is no such thing as coincidences. If I'm here and she's here, then it is meant to be. Here goes nothing!

"I think you should find a stronger opponent"

She turned her head to look at me, I saw the punch bag swing back towards her before she did, and I inwardly winced as the punch bag caught her squarely on hip. I rushed over to her as she fell on the mat and chuckled to myself.

- It's not often I get to see Ziva on her back, it's a nice view!

The jovial banter that ensued after I helped her on to her feet, lifted my spirits, I often hear her and Tony verbally spar together, laced with sexual innuendos and suggestion. What I have learned about Ziva over the years, it is not her words you should take note of, but her actions.

I notice the punch bag is no longer serviceable and a thought goes through my mind, the idea is out of my mouth before I can stop it.

"Think you can take on a marine, Ziva?"

"Think you can take on a woman, Gibbs?"

I smile at her usual way of answering a question with another question. As I face her square on, I see her curly hair is tied back, leaving her slender neck exposed, her tank top is both practical and functional, supporting her ample cleavage, her body, all of her if toned and designed to attack at any moment, an exotic combination of Ziva's perfume, a hint of watermelon, and sweat lingers between us and fills my senses to point where it nearly overpowers me.

"Oh Ziver. . ." You are so much more than a woman!"

- Did I just say that! Holy, Mother!

I see her mind going over what I just said. I'm waiting for a slap to come across my face or for her to step back, appalled of the idea that I find her attractive. Instead I see a flicker of something I didn't expect. . .

- Was that hope? Come on Jethro, no time for wishful thinking, fix it!

"Challenge accepted! Marine Vs Ninja assassin! In the black corner, all the way from Tel Aviv, we have Ziva 'The Ninja' David! In the grey corner, all the way from Still Water, Pennsylvania, we have Jethro 'The Marine' Gibbs!"
Ziva's laugh feels my ears and I believe it is the most beautiful sound I've ever heard after my Dodge Charger.

We are both positioned on the mat, at opposite corners, in identical stances.

"Ready Ziva?"

"Don't go easy on me now!"

A smile on her lips, suggests this is a usual taunt of hers.

- Oh Ziver! If only you knew . . .

We both go towards the middle of the mat, we exchange glancing blows to get the feel of one and other's technique, it will only be light contact but we both know we won't go easy on each other. Ziva lands the first strike, her foot connects with my lower ribs, I continue to use the correct breathing technique so all I really feel is a slight sting. I land a blow to her ribs with my right when she raises her guard to avoid a blow with my left, she doesn't flinch.

- This shouldn't be turning me on!

Ziva was designed for this, her dark cherry wood eyes haven't left my face from the moment we started this bout. It is almost too intimate, the eye contact, the blows, the heavy breathing. I am starting to lose focus, Ziva has landed a lot more blows through my guard, and if I'm not careful she'll knock me out.

"Rule number 2?"

Ziva looks slightly confused for a moment, smiles with a knowing look in her eye, she knows I am trying to distract her.

"Always wear gloves at a crime scene. . ." Rule number 7?"

- That's my girl!

"Always be specific when you lie. . ." Rule number 9?"

We return a few more blows, I think for a moment I may have stumped her but she comes right back at me.

"Always carry a knife. . ." Rule number 23?

I burst out laughing.

"Never mess with a Marine's coffee. . ." if you want to live! Rule number 16?"

At this question Ziva grabs my wrist and twists it painfully in on itself and raises her eyebrows at me.

"If someone thinks they have the upper hand, break it! Rule number 12?

I don't know if it was because of that number rule in particular, or if it was years of training kicking in, but I found myself sweeping my foot it a fast aggressive motion towards both of Ziva's legs, the impact resulted in myself and Ziva falling to the mat.

"Never date a co-worker. Rules number 14?"

Ziva was using all of her techniques to re-right herself but to no avail, I weighed more than her and it was inevitable once I had her on the ground. I grabbed both of her wrists and pinned them to the mat above her head to stop her squirming beneath me.

"Bend the line, don't break it!"

I don't know if it was because of the compromising position we were both in, the way Ziva was looking at me with hope in her eyes, the pent-up frustration or the meaning behind the words we had just spoken. Whatever it was I finally gave in.

- To hell with it!

I leaned down, Ziva stilled beneath me, and I brought my mouth to her perfectly formed lips, my lips moved against hers, crushing them not out of desire but need, I wanted her because I felt if I let go of her I would be lost. As if I didn't need any encouragement, Ziva moaned beneath me, the vibration instantly made its way down below my waist, she felt my reaction and gasped. I took the parting of her lips as an invitation and forced my tongue in her mouth, her moan that followed was swallowed up by my own in response.

Our tongues massaged each other's, sparring like our whole bodies did just moments before. Ziva arched her back, forcing her body closer against mine. The added friction of her body against mine was causing a strain in my pants so restrictive that it was almost painful. It was my turn to moan in her mouth, she took that as encouragement to continue and was rocking her lower body against me.

- Holy, Mother! I think I'm going to explode!

"Oh Ziver . . ."

I said those words out loud, the words sounded almost strangled and if I was in pain, I would quite happily endure this pain again and again. I opened my eyes to see Ziva beneath me, lost in her lustful torment, and I knew in that moment I was never alone.

Her next words to me were my undoing.

"Jethro, don't stop!"

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