Title: Idle Hands
Author: rysler
Pairing: Ziva/Ducky/Tim
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: 5.14 Internal Affairs
Notes: 1400 words. Thanks to geonncannon for the once-over!

Idle Hands:

"Well, that's that," Ducky said.

Tim snapped the laptop shut.

"What now?" Ziva asked.

Tim rubbed the back of his head, and said, "Gibbs said not to leave the basement."

"But we must go help Tony," Ziva said.

"Ms. David, we just proved him a killer. I don't think we'll quite be helping him if we rush over to NCIS. Besides, someone has punctured the tires of our only available car," Ducky said.

Ziva frowned.

Ducky gathered up the autopsy photographs, leaving the bare table for Ziva to lean against.

"Well, then, what do we do?" Tim asked.

"I remember being in a similar situation when I was younger--" Ducky started.

Ziva raised her hand. She leaned over the table and pulled up a bottle of scotch, and said, "I propose we get drunk."

"We can't get drunk, Ziva," Tim said.

She turned to Ducky for support. "What did you do? Back in the week."

"It was just the day, Ziva," Ducky said. "And we didn't precisely--drink." He looked pensive, and then raised both eyebrows.

"You didn't," Tim said.

"Well, those were different times, you have to understand," Ducky said.

"Not so different," Ziva said.

"So. Different," Tim said.

Ziva slid off the table and slinked to Tim. She said, "Don't tell me you haven't always wanted to try it."

"With both of you?" Tim asked.

"I could go upstairs... watch television," Ducky said.

"Gibbs doesn't have a television," Ziva said.

"Well, not in his living room, no."

Ziva and Tim turned to Ducky. Ducky folded his arms.

"He has got a point," Ziva said.

Tim covered his eyes.

"What's he doing?" Ducky asked.

"He's covering his eyes," Ziva said.

"That's what I thought."

Ziva crouched over Ducky, pushing into a folding chair. She slid his hands down his chest, and said, "I've always wanted to know what tweed felt like."

"Your conclusion?" Ducky asked.

"Rough. And yet, gentle," Ziva said. She pressed his thighs, and then moved her hands up his torso again, to cup his neck. She cradled him and kissed his face--each cheek, and then his forehead, and then his jaw. Ducky was relieved she wasn't the type to fixate just on the cock--so many assassins were trained to get it done so fast that their prey was taken by surprise--he didn't get surprised by much anymore. His heart couldn't stand it. But with enough patience, he'd be ready.

Spies were usually patient. For that he was grateful.

Tim peeked through his fingers.

"Dear boy," Ducky said, and Tim turned imperceptibly toward him. Ducky said, "Watch." He wrapped his arm around Ziva's waist, and cupped her breast. He could feel Ziva smirking by the way her back muscles shifted against his shoulder.

Tim squeaked.

Ducky beckoned. He said, "Surely a man brave enough to open himself up to Abby Scuito can handle such a mundane group."

Tim glanced at Ziva, and then stepped forward. He said, "I respect you, Ducky. I wouldn't want you to think that I didn't."

Ducky took his hand by the wrist, and squeezed. He said, "I know, Timothy. I have always loved you. And never like a son."

Tim smiled. He took Ducky's hand in both of his.

"Lovely," Ziva said. She crouched next to Ducky, her hands traveling over his body, pressing, pulling, loosening his clothes, teasing his rising cock without expecting too much, digging her fingers into his calves. She had hard hands. Ducky touched her jaw with his free hand. Her expression, intent and bright, was just as hard, touching him the same was as her squeezing fingers.

She was so masculine, and Tim, bending shly toward Ducky, leaving Ducky to raise his head the last inch to touch Tim's sweet, lax mouth, had all the femininity being a policeman was supposed to beat out of him. Ducky marveled at them both, this young generation.

Tim didn't move away from his kiss, and so he touched the front of Tim's trousers just as Ziva cupped him. Ducky stilled himself, enjoying the sensations of Ziva's stroking fingers and Tim's restless heat.

"Take off your shirt, Timothy," Ziva said.

Tim shrugged and pulled off his shirt. He looked at Ziva as Ducky touched his abdomen. Ducky said, "You're such a beautiful man."

Tim's shoulders and neck turned pink. He rubbed his arms, and smiled at Ducky. Pleasure etched his face, but also uncertainty, and when Ducky met his eyes, Tim asked, "What do we do?"

"Well, in my day, in this sort of predicament, we focused on the lady."

Ziva's lips curled up. She asked, "On the floor, then?"

"Wait," Tim said. He put his shirt down on the concrete, and then shucked off his trousers and stretched them out, leaving on his boxers. Ziva followed his lead, leaving her blouse and her pants on the floor. She went further, though, and made both men watch as she unclasped her bra, and then pushed down her panties.

Tim swallowed.

"Oh, my," Ducky said.

Ziva stretched out on the pile of clothes on her back, and asked, "Like this?"

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Tim asked.

"Well, of course," Ziva said.

Ducky chuckled. He held onto the edge of the table to ease himself onto his knees, and bade Tim to the other side of her body. Tim knelt, and touched her breast, just as Ducky slid his hand along her inner thigh.

"Oh, yes," Ziva said. She hissed at Ducky. Ducky obligingly placed his hand between her legs. He marveled at the silkiness and the heat that welcomed his fingers, and the wetness that guided him further than he had intended to go. Ziva gasped.

Tim, goaded, kissed Ziva's lips. She cupped his face, and kept him close to her. He arched his back, one hand bracing his crouch, the other sliding over Ziva's body. He had deft timing, knowing when to tweak Ziva's nipple to time with Ducky's thrust, knowing when to back off, and tickle her stomach, so that she bit his lip and made him growl. Ducky took Tim's hips and guided him over Ziva's.

"Really, this is perhaps dangerous," Ducky said, even as he caressed Tim's ass, and Ziva, digging her fingers into Tim's neck, encouraged him.

"Please," Ziva said. "I am Mossad. I know how to handle these things."

"Always the woman's responsibility," Ducky said, smiling at her.

Tim reached between his legs and guided himself into her. "Ducky," he called.

Ducky shed his jacket and opened his trousers. He touched Tim's back. Tim thrust into Ziva, with slow, concentrated precision. Ziva reached around Tim's waist, and found Ducky's hand. Ducky met her eyes, and she smiled, her eyelids heavy with lust, and said, "Tim, I'm so close. Use your mouth."

Tim scooted backwards, into Ducky's lap, and lowered his head. Ziva groaned. Slurping, sucking sounds filled the basement. Ducky hugged Tim's waist. Ziva's hoarse cries became one sustained, pitched scream. She shoved Tim's head away from her and fell back, panting.

"Ducky," Tim said. Ducky held Tim against him, one hand on his chest, the other circling lower, over his abdomen, across one thigh, and then grabbing his cock.

"Show me, Timothy," Ducky said. "I don't know what you like."

Tim's hand covered his and their fingers moved together in short, squeezing strokes. Ducky tried to pay attention to the particular points where pressure should be applied, to the slippery head where only gliding touches were called for, but when Ziva's mouth encompassed Ducky's cock, he lost all sensibility.

"Ziva," he whispered against Tim's cheek. Tim's grip on himself tightened. Ducky freed his hand and cradled Tim's balls instead. He tried to be careful with the sensitive skin. Ziva's lips were doing the most marvelous things--Mossad training? Or just a woman with a natural gift. Ducky tried not to dwell, but as he felt himself rising, filling, he thought it'd best to warn her. "Ziva, I'm--"

She scooted back, just licking the tip of his cock, and Tim had the presence of mind to reach between his own legs and find Ducky. A poor angle, but the eagerness and Tim squirming against him was enough to provoke the orgasm. Ducky shuddered, imagining himself erupting on Ziva's lips. Tim whimpered, and wetness touched Ducky's hand. What Ducky had imagined, Tim had actually seen, and that had caused him to come. Ziva was chuckling, and licking at Tim's thighs.

Tim distangled himself, still bright red, and fastened his pants. He helped Ziva up. Ducky resumed his post in the chair, exhaling. He took off his glasses to clean them.

"Well," Ziva said, "That murdered five minutes."

"Killed, Ziva," Tim said, rolling his eyes.

Ducky said, "Right, well. Let's review the evidence again, now that we've cleared our head. Maybe we missed something..."

END