Sunday, January 31, 2010

It's Just Paris--What Happened In Paris Option 2

This is a continuation of my last post. What if this happened instead? What if the insatiable lust they felt for each other was actually... Love? (just like i hope it is)

check it out and please comment or tweet me at @E_M_Zeray
This one is called: It's Just Paris

She entered the room, her fury about to tumble over onto her lips, and form into words…

Tony walked in behind her and she was hyper aware of him. Her anger was very obviously a displacement on passion or lust or incorrectly communicated—or hidden—emotions… Damn the time she’d spent with Ducky. That lovable man’s psycho babble was really starting to affect her…

Tony walked all the way into the room and, without a word, starting undressing. Swallowing past her misplaced anger, she cocked her head and said in her thick Israeli accent, (the one that appeared whenever she was either heavily intoxicated or extremely horny, and it was a little bit of both in this case thanks to the alcohol on the flight) “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Getting comfortable, Ziva. You might wanna do the same, seeing at how you’ll be sleeping on the couch.”

She scowled. “Why are you so…edible?”

He froze, looked up, caught in the middle of his stripping, down to his boxers, and said, “Well, I’ve always been this gorgeous, but I think you mean irritable. And I’m irritable because you bugged me the whole flight.”

But Ziva wasn’t listening. She was staring at his chest, his legs, his neck, his lips… Damn, how badly she wanted to kiss those lips. Yet, her being Ziva, she shook off the feeling and frowned. “I was mearly trying to understand those strange vampire novels you are reading. The boy loves the girl but the girl loves the hairy one?”

Tony smiled before he could help himself. Still, he ignored her, getting ready to climb into bed.

The tension in the room, with every word that Ziva wanted to say and every move Tony made that seemed to be lined with stress, could be cut with a knife. Shirtless, he closed his eyes and settled into the pillows. Paris was having an effect on him that he under no circumstances could even hope to understand.

He had spent hours on that flight with her and then another while trying to find the hotel room and get settled in. No reservations had been made so they were forced to share one room. Granted it was a spacious room, but Tony knew he had to fall asleep before her so that she would not bother him with her god-awful snoring.

Sleep drifted over him like a comforting blanket, but through the fog he heard, “Tony, we’re in Paris.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” he said sarcastically, keeping his heavy lids shut. “Now shut up and go to sleep.”

The silence had convinced him that she was moving around in her normal, or rather abnormal depending on how you looked at it, way—silent Mossad trained assassin way. But instead she was looking out the window, praying that maybe her silent hope wouldn’t become so silent anymore… But she couldn’t do it.

Tony opened his eyes slightly and noticed her staring problematically out the window. “What’s wrong?”

“Huh?” Her hair whirled around her neck as she looked back at the bed. “Oh. Nothing. Just thinking.”

“Zee-vah, you’re not a thinking kind of person.”

“I am a person, Tony. That is reason enough to think.”

He sat up, instantly knowing he would regret what he was about to say. But then his thought process changed. A single tear ran down from the fearless female agent’s eye and he realized… “You thought something was going to happened between us tonight.”

“That is the most stupid thing I have ever heard, Tony.”

“Not when it’s true.”

“I… I did not assume anything. I have nothing but platonic…” she hesitated, hoping that was the correct word.

“Nothing but platonic feelings for me?” Tony asked, trying to keep his Adam’s apple from bobbing.

Ziva closed her eyes and resisted the urge to say what she wanted to…

Without acknowledging the fact that Tony had spoken, she sat on the couch and stared at the black television screen. Her tears fell silently and a sound was made that made it appear as if Tony had relaxed back against the pillows once more, but in truth, both of them were wide awake now—caught in the fear of maybe almost admitting feelings for each other that were much, much more than friendly.

“It’s just Paris,” Tony whispered to himself. There’s a reason I want to kiss her right now. It’s just Paris: The City of Love. I’m not in love. Not at all.

But it wasn’t. And he was. And so was she. For better or for worse. Mostly worse.

Btw, the little vampire piece in there is because Tony talked on the episode this fic is based on about how he's Team Edward for Twilight. Not my idea.

Comment or tweet me! Enjoy! Thanks.

Love, Alyssa

Saturday, January 30, 2010

NCIS Fan Fiction: What Happened In Paris

I do not own any characters or anything else from NCIS. This is all my own fiction.

Last week on TV's #1 Show, NCIS, Tony and Ziva let a little bit of a implication out that MAYBE something happened in Paris while they were forced to share a hotel room while picking up a witness they needed to protect and take back to DC. After several smoking glances and a few hints as to who really took the couch--they both said it was them and at the end they asked each other why they lied...--many obsessed fans decided to write their version of what they would've wanted to happen. Here is mine.

Warning, this is rated T for suggestive lanuage.

What Happened In Paris: An NCIS FanFic

He stared at the back of her neck as she opened the hotel room door—the only room available since they’d neglected to make reservations—and what he saw was beautiful. Everything about her was beautiful. Enticing. Sexy. He let his thoughts wander as he walked into the hotel room.

The romantic city view, the wine by the bed…

He thought back to the night four years ago when they shared another hotel room. Granted it was under cover… But she’d been the most exciting woman he’d seen in nothing but a smile—and she was definitely smiling. Just the thought made a sly smirk break out on his lips and he had to readjust his pants as he watched her drop her suitcase on the floor by the bed and remove her jacket.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Tony said, back to his normal self. “Who says you get the bed?” He gestured to the leather couch. “I’m the one with the bad back!”

She shrugged, a very, very small smile on her lips. “Well, you are the oldest,” she muttered.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Hey, that’s not fair. You’re young and fresh and pretty. You don’t need beauty sleep!”

“However pretty I am,” she said, stretching out the word and turning to him, “I have had a very frustrating flight and I need my sleep.” She punctuated her words by opening her suitcase and removing a pair of cobalt blue pair of silk shorts and matching cami, with little decorations of lace on both. Neither piece of clothing would conceal very much when it was on…

He stepped all the way into the room, the door closing behind him. She was taunting him.

“Those are your pjs?”

She shrugged.

Fine, his dick said, Seduction is a one person game. Let’s see how well she plays it.

But nothing of the sort happened. She went to the bathroom, showered, changed, and returned to the room. Tony was lying in the big, comfy bed, clad in a gray t-shirt and boxer shorts.

“My bed, Tony.”

“Not gonna happen, Zee-vah.”

She smirked and walked over to the bed, scooting under the covers and curling up to Tony, her leg thrown over his, her chin on his chest. “Fine. Then we will be forced to sleep like this, yes?”

Tony faltered momentarily. No stripping? No, “I’ve been watching you from afar,”?

He closed his eyes to recalculate and realized that he liked the feel of her next to him. So much in fact, that he needed more almost immediately. His recalculation was finished. He opened his eyes and…

She looked up and her chocolate eyes bore into his. With a piercing groan and a feminine sigh, their lips met and both of them saw fireworks. There was no neat, orderly discarding of clothing as they raced for the finish line. Somewhere during the wrestling match of passion involving annoying clothing, Tony faced the one-handed bra removal as his other was captured in hers and he felt no desire to remove it. But his efforts were wasted as she said the four words a man like Tony loves to hear and a woman like Ziva rarely gets to say: “It opens in front.”

Rule 12 burned in the back of her mind—the far back. Way back behind lust, passion, so much waiting… And maybe even a tiny bit of…caring? Like? …love?

The thought intruded her feel-good space and she had to concentrate hard on Tony’s mouth—which was now moving professionally and very wonderfully—against hers in order to distract herself from the impossible thought.


Tony soon discovered that Ziva was not gentle in her conquests, and that he didn’t mind one bit. He settled her body against his and tugged on her earlobe with his teeth.

“Now that was exactly what I needed,” he admitted in a whisper to her neck. “What’d you think?”

“Why? Feeling insecure, hairy butt?” Her delighted laugh made the tease fall off his shoulders.

“Not at all. I have ears. You weren’t kidding when you said you were a screamer.”

The casual teasing continued until she rolled over and fell asleep in his arms. He followed, but only after he’d contently relived the past hour in his head while staring at her beautiful sleeping face.

Harsh sunlight broke over her face as a soft snoring roused her from her sleep. A strong, tanned arm was around her waist and soft lips were on the back of her neck. Her eyes fluttered open slowly as her other senses awoke. Needs presented themselves and she gently removed herself from her lover’s grasp so she could use the restroom.

After dressing and flipping through the channels on the television—none of which she had any interesting in—she heard Tony sit up in bed. “Good morning, Zee-vah,” he said, a clear happiness in his smug voice. “You order breakfast yet?”

“I believe I’m going to try to find a cafĂ©—get some reading done.”

“Oh, come on, Ziva! It’s Paris! There are sights to see!”

She shrugged off the invitation. “I’ve seen them all already. Multiple times.”

The insecure thought rolled through Tony’s head that she’s probably been with many men in Paris, as well. Just the first part alone made him angry. He shook off the ridiculous feeling and said, “Fine. I’ll go alone.”

When he stood, Ziva glanced at his body. She wanted to moan in delight. A bright red bite mark was still on his chest. But when he exited the room, he left a sour disposition of disappointment there. And sighing to herself, Ziva left the hotel room—and it’s memories and the wonderful, wonderful feelings she’d had there—behind. She feared for good.

Please comment! I hope you like it!
Love, Alyssa

Saturday, January 16, 2010

My Muse

So two nights ago my muse was majorly picking at my brain and this was created:
NOTE: this is just a rough draft, and im not even sure this is gonna be used, but i really like it...
and i've been thinking that i need to change it around to something else, but idk. tell me what you think.

It was the picture perfect setting--they sat on the bridge, holding hands, starring at the snow falling down into the deep gulf below. The bridge was popular for first kisses, which is exactly what Madison was thinking about while she and Brian sat there, eyes lazily drifting with the white flakes and fingers whispering against each other.
"So are we gonna do this or what?" she asked, suddenly sounding much braver than she felt.
Brian smirked and turned to her, running his free hand over her stomach, down her thigh. She shuddered. "Alright. Your harness is secure. Let's jump."
She opened her eyes--hardly realizing she's closed them--and said, "I hate heights."
"Come on, Mad. It's bungee jumping. Totally safe."
Madison stood up, squeezing his hand for support. "But... Brian, it's snowing."
She looked up at him, his green-blue eyes boring into hers and suddenly he was snaking his arms around her waist, pulling her against him, and they were kissing. Madison held on for dear life, her heart in her throat. The sensation was she was falling head first into something that took her breath away, the air pounding onto her cold cheeks... When she opened her eyes, she found she actually had fallen. He'd jumped with her in his arms.
He laughed joyously as they bounced and her tinkling voice echoed the noise. His lips went down on her neck, whispering words of encouragement, and suddenly, before Madison knew it, they were on the ground, sitting in the fresh snow, harnesses tossed away, her seated in his lap. Brian returned to kissing her neck and she closed her eyes and grasped at his jacket so she could ride out the feeling.
She shivered and he pulled back.
"Was that fun?"
"Which part? The jumping or the kissing?"
A smile spread on his lips and he said, "Jumping."
"Terrifying. But you distracted me perfectly."
And then he distracted her again, so she screamed into his mouth as the bullet hit her in the back, and he yelled, for about two seconds before the other bullet him in the forehead.
Madison held onto consciousness long enough to watch Brian's mouth foam with blood, and then she died.

This is just the first draft. Please comment!
Love, Alyssa