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RATING:  NC-17

Here be sex.  Children beware.






SPOILERS:  None
DISCLAIMER:  I don't think Aaron would like what I'm
doing to his characters here, but I'm pretty sure they
enjoyed themselves. :)
SUMMARY:  Josh and Donna relieve some of that tension.
Thanks to Jo, and also to Morgan.





An Occasion Worthy of Baked Goods
Macha




Sometimes I wish Josh were married.

Or old.

Or gay.

Or a woman.

Preferably an old, married lesbian.

Anything other than the relatively young, single,
magnetic heterosexual I have to work with every day. 
I mean, isn't it too much to ask of a hot-blooded
American female?  Seventeen hours a day of Joshua
Lyman strutting around exuding this irresistible charm
and I'm not supposed to have erotic dreams about him? 
How realistic is that?

And the worst part is, he doesn't seem to even notice
I'm a woman.

I am not egotistical.  Nor am I one of those women who
considers herself hopelessly ugly or thin or fat or,
you know, disproportional.  I'm attractive.  I'm not
Gwyneth Paltrow, but I'm attractive.  My
self-confidence took a beating, it's true, during my
ill-fated and one-sided relationship with Dr. Free
Ride, but I've since recovered.  Despite Josh's
assertions to the contrary, I have no overweaning
desire to be coupled.

My desire to be coupled with Josh, well...  Let's just
say *that* desire could be accurately described as
"fervent."  

But I am also a strong woman.  And so I go to work
every day and play my role--Josh's helpmate.  Usually
that's enough.  The man truly is brilliant, and I
delight in our ongoing battle of wits.  I know he
likes it too, this verbal foreplay we've got going on,
even if he doesn't quite recognize it for what it is.

The thing is--if Josh were truly interested in me,
he'd have done something about it before now.  His ego
is...  Well, there isn't an adjective I could employ
that would describe Josh's ego.  Suffice it to say,
self-confidence is something he possesses in
abundance.  

So if he wanted me, we'd already have had the
mind-blowing sex I just know we're capable of; this is
not an encouraging thought.  Hence, the days when I
can't help but be incredibly grumpy.

Sexual frustration is a bitch.

Today, for example, is not a good day.  Last night, I
had the most amazing dream featuring Joshua Lyman, a
shower, and a pretty damn impressive orgasm.  But I'm
supposed to work on the slaughterhouse bill with him
all day like I didn't dream about him--

I am not compartmentalizing well today.

Dreams are dreams.  They are not reality.  I
understand this; I really do.  Most days, I can wake
up, recall the dream with a fond, satisfied smile, and
let it wash down the drain with the soap bubbles in
the shower.  But Josh's performance last night--my
imagination's version of Josh, of course--was just
incredible.

And I'm having a hard time remembering that I can't
just reach out and grab--

"Donna, you wanna share with the class?" 

I jerk my head up to find the object of my musings
staring at me with that familiar smirk.  He's at his
desk, leaning back, feet propped up, and thumbing
through the report on slaughterhouse standards.

The subject matter couldn't be any less erotic, and
I'm sitting here flushed.  

"Donna?" he repeats, his grin widening.  

"Yeah?" I rasp, my voice a little lower than normal. 
I clear my throat quickly.

"You kinda zoned out there.  Everything okay?"

It would be if--

I am not going to go there.  

"Yes," I answer.  And to my amazement, I sound almost
normal.

He quirks an eyebrow, but doesn't challenge me. 
"'Kay.  I'm hungry; you want anything?"

I manage to give him an amused look.  "Reading a
report on the disgusting conditions in slaughterhouses
makes you *hungry*?" I ask dryly.

Josh tosses the report onto his desk and shrugs
carelessly.  "I'm quirky."

"Repulsive," I offer.  Would that it were true.  Maybe
I wouldn't keep having the dreams.

"I'll have you know many, many women find me quite
charming," Josh scoffs as he swings his feet off of
his desk.  "Have dinner with me."

I blink stupidly.  "What?"

"Food," Josh says, raising his eyebrows.  "You.  Me. 
A restaurant."

"I can't," I blurt.

Josh gives me a strange look.  "Why not?"

"I have plans," I explain, busying myself with the
files in my lap.  I'll just go ahead and alphabetize
these so I don't have to look at--

"You have a date?" Josh asks in this faux-neutral
tone.  The same tone he uses whenever he's about to
toss some rude comment about my taste in men at me and
expect me to laugh it off.

I pin him with a glare.  "I have plans," I repeat, my
tone flat.  "And, frankly, what I do outside the
office is none of your business."

Josh stares at me.  "What you do, maybe," he answers. 
"But who you--"

"Joshua," I interrupt angrily.  "Just stop right there
unless you want to find yourself without an assistant.
 And possibly a vital body part."

Josh's mouth is hanging open, and it takes him a
minute to respond.  "I was going to say 'date.' 
Donna, I didn't mean--"

"You really did," I answer, tiredly.  I don't want to
do this right now.  The last thing I want to do is
fight with Josh.  "You always mean that.  I have
plans.  I'm leaving now.  If you need me to be in
tomorrow, call me in the morning."

"On your cell?" he mutters darkly.

I am halfway out the door, but I freeze as his
implication strikes.  

Slowly, I turn to face him, my eyes wide.  "Excuse
me?"  He can't possibly mean what I think he means.  

"In case you're not at home," he says.  He's looking
at the chalkboard behind me, and I can't read his
expression.  "I should call your cellphone."

"In case I'm not at home," I repeat softly.  I don't
know how he does it, but Josh manages to find the
perfectly wrong thing to say sometimes.  And what
makes it worse is that he has no idea how much his
words can hurt me.

"Yes."

"In case I find some gomer to fuck, is your meaning." 
I've sworn in front of Josh before, but usually in
anger.  This time, I'm just so sick of it; sick of the
way he thinks of me.  My words are angry, but my tone
is... devoid of emotion.

"Donna."  He holds up a placating hand.  "Wait a
second.  You're overreacting."

I take two steps into the office and push the door
shut behind me.  "Did it ever occur to you that maybe
it's inappropriate for you to say these things?"  I'm
trying to stay calm, I really am.  But just how much
of this am I supposed to take? 

How come he gets to take potshots at my love life, but
I'm not allowed to speak ill of Mandy or Sarah or
Joey?  Or bring up the fact that he hasn't even looked
at a women with a modicum of interest since before the
shooting?  I wouldn't make cracks about that, of
course, but I have noticed.  And I do worry.

Josh merely worries that I'll sell state secrets to
some Republican aide for a good roll in the hay.  How
can he think that lowly of me?

Josh stands and circles the edge of his desk.  "All I
asked was if I should call your cellphone.  That's
it."

"Your implication," I say, my jaw clenched, "being
that I'd--"

"Seriously," Josh reaches out, his hand settling on my
upper arm.  "I'm not implying anything.  I worry about
you."

"I'm not your little sister, Josh," I point out,
shaking my head.  

"I know that," he mutters, dropping his gaze.

I narrow my eyes, puzzled by his tone of voice; it's
not a part of the usual Josh Repertoire.  "What's that
supposed to mean?"

Josh lets go of me and backs up a step.  "Look, this
isn't the best time for this.  Maybe we should--"

"Forget it, Josh," I say, reaching for the door.  "I
have plans."

Before I can open the door, Josh is beside me.  And
then his hands are on my shoulders, pushing me back
against the door, and he's kissing me.

Joshua Lyman is kissing me.  And it is incredible.  

I should stop this.  I should ask him what the hell he
thinks he's doing.  I should really just do that foot
sweep thing they taught me at my Tae Kwan Do class,
get him on the floor, and have my way with him.

I really want to do that last one, but I can't seem to
concentrate on anything but his mouth on mine, and his
hands on me.

My own hands are splayed on his back, pulling his body
to me, and I'm on tiptoe, trying to get as close to
him as possible.  His mouth is amazing.  Talented.  

This is not an introductory kiss; this is sexual.  One
of his hands is tangled in my hair, tilting my face up
to him.  The other is roaming my back in the most
arousing way.  This is heat and anger and attraction
and... wrong.  

I can't do this to prove a point.  Not with Josh.

With a ragged groan, I manage to unclench my hands,
slide them around to his muscled chest, and push him
away.  God, I don't want to push him away.

We stand there, flushed and out of breath, and stare
at each other.

"What the hell was that?"  I meant for that to come
out strong, but instead I sound like a woman who's
been thoroughly kissed.  My voice is shaky and very
breathy, and I may need to sit down, because that kiss
was just...

Josh looks dazed.  I can see a smudge of my lipstick
at the corner of his mouth and feel something inside
me clench in anticipation.  I want to lick it off.

"Donna, I..." he shrugs, and he's giving me that look
he gets when he wants me to fix things.  Usually, that
means he's pissed off a Congressperson, or possibly
the religious right.  I'm not quite sure what to do
when he's sending it my way because he just had his
tongue in my mouth and his hands on my ass.

I watch him for another long moment, and it takes
every last shred of self-control I possess not to toss
him onto his desk and have my way with him.  Also to
remain standing.  Any doubts I harbored about our
sexual chemistry have been vanquished.  

But sexual chemistry isn't enough, and I don't like
this situation.  It's wrong.  He has to want *me*.  It
can't be because he doesn't want me to do this with
someone else.  I don't think he even understands that
the reason he says those things to me is that he's
jealous. 

I should clarify--I have no idea if his jealousy is
because he wants me specifically, or if it's some
alpha-male bullshit.  I have a feeling it's the
latter, and until he can figure out why he's jealous,
I can't do this.  

Whatever it is that Josh and I have--it's too
important.

Josh, please, tell me you want me.

Josh just stares at me and shakes his head slowly.  "I
don't know, Donna."

I laugh, but it's a bitter sound.  He doesn't know. 
That is just so perfect--all of my doubts are gone,
and Josh doesn't know.  After that mind-blowing kiss,
he's confused.

We should talk about this, Josh and me.  We should
have an adult, rational discussion about this thing
between us, straighten it all out before there are
hurt feelings and regrets.  I should tell him that I
think about him.  I should ask him if he thinks about
me.

But I can't do this right now.  I'm so incredibly
turned on that I don't believe I'm capable of rational
thought processes.  

"I don't, either, Josh," I answer.  I hesitate a
moment longer, but he's still just staring at me. 
"I've got plans."

I open the door and glance back at him, all but
begging him to call me back.  I can't do this alone,
Josh.  You have to want it too.

He doesn't get the message.  Either that or he ignores
it, because Josh just stands there in his doorway and
watches me leave.

***

I'm still shaking when I reach the bathroom.  From
arousal.  From anger.  Possibly some mixture of both. 

All I know is, my mind is in turnaround.  Does that
mean he's starting to realize he wants me, or has he
just made the mistake that will ruin our relationship
forever?  Should I go back and talk to him, or leave
and hope he calls me in the morning?  Do I act like
nothing happened, or do I show up on his doorstep and
demand that we try that again--No, demand that we
discuss this?  

I can't lead Josh into this--whatever this is.  Sure,
he initiated that stellar kiss...  God, I'm hot just
thinking about it.  My entire body is still buzzing
with arousal.  

Josh initiated the kiss, but that was just Josh being
Josh.  I was pissed at him.  He's a politician, and he
just, you know, redirected my anger.  What a way to
change the subject.  I could kill him.

Or jump him.  That's definitely another option.

No, I'm--

"Donna?"

I glance over my shoulder and Bonnie's standing there,
a curious look on her face.  

"Hey, girl," I say, rubbing one hand over my face. 
"Just give me a minute to change and I'll be ready." 
I'm staring at my reflection to avoid meeting her
gaze.

"You okay?" she asks, dropping her bag onto the
countertop and digging for some makeup.

"Yeah," I lie, staring at her mirrored self blankly. 
"I'm fine."

She raises her eyebrows, but doesn't comment further. 
"Okay."

I finally notice her pants--they're tight, black
leather--and my eyes widen.  "Wow."

Bonnie glances down and blushes.  "Yeah, I know.  But
I've always wanted a pair."

"No," I say, turning to face her.  "Those are totally
hot."  I'm starting to feel a little less flustered,
now that I have something else to focus on.  "And the
shirt.  Love the sparklies."

Bonnie's shirt is opaque and shimmery, affording
glimpses of her black bra underneath.  "Thanks."

I glance down at my bag, which I'd managed to remember
while storming past my desk.  I am incredibly
unimpressed by the clothes I brought, but it's too
late now.

Ginger pokes her head into the bathroom.  "Where's
this place again?"

"Adam's Morgan."  Bonnie waves her in.  "Show us the
outfit!"

Ginger grins and walks towards us in the exaggerated
swagger of a runway model.  She's wearing a light
blue, clingy sundress, which really sets off her hair.
 "You like?" she asks, twirling around and striking a
pose.

I push all lingering thoughts of Josh out of my mind
(even while my body continues to urge me to drag him
into the nearest room with a working lock) and laugh
at Ginger's antics.  "You are an insane person."  

"Yeah," she shrugs, "but I look hot."

Bonnie winks at Ginger, then they both turn to me. 
"What's in the bag, Donna?"

I sigh.  "A really lame outfit."  See?  I can do this.
 I am not obsessing over that kiss.  I am going to go
out with my friends, shake my groove thing, and maybe
even find myself a hot young grad student to take
home--Oh, who am I kidding?

I want to take Josh home.

But since that's not going to happen...

I pull out my clothes and change quickly.  Then I give
myself a critical once-over in the mirror.  Tight,
black, scoop-neck top that doesn't quite reach my
navel, and a fairly plain black skirt.  But it's a
short skirt.  It only reaches about halfway to my
knees, leaving a lot of leg bare.  I slip my feet into
big, clunky sandals--thank God I remembered to paint
my toenails; they're electric blue--and turn to face
Bonnie and Ginger.  

"Well?"

Ginger grins as she takes in my ensemble.  "Very
nice!"

Bonnie tilts her head sideways.  "Damn, you need a
tan."

"Shut up," I protest, laughing.  I do look incredibly
pale with all this black on, but it works.  Josh likes
my alabaster skin.

The three of us do a quick make up check, then grab
our bags and head out.  It feels wrong--decadent--to
be wearing this in the White House, even for the scant
amount of time it takes us to reach the doors.  I'm
incredibly self-conscious, which is probably why I'm
glancing around like a kid stealing a candy bar.  And
then I see Josh.

He's standing at the end of the hall, and it looks
like he stopped midstride.  His eyes are wide as he
stares at us.  

Stares at me.

I'm tired of being Sexually-Frustrated Girl.  I'm
tired of watching Josh flip through a folder and
wondering what else he could be doing with those
hands.  I'm tired of waking up alone and having my
first thoughts be of him.  

If that kiss is any indication, Josh may just be
getting a clue about this thing between us.  Maybe
he'll see me as more than the woman who runs his
office.  Maybe catching a glimpse of me as an
undeniably sexual person will, you know, jump start
something in that incredibly smart yet astoundingly
stupid brain of his.  

Maybe seeing me in this outfit will give him a little
something to think about, anyway.

I'm not self-conscious anymore.  I can feel it--my
entire body can feel his hungry eyes on me.  My stride
lengthens, my hips get into the action, and I hold his
gaze as long as I can.  Just before I pass out of
sight, I raise my hand and waggle my fingers at him.

***

It's nice, sometimes, to be reminded that men find me
attractive.

The club scene can be pretty grotesque, of course. 
Single people liquoring themselves up in the hopes
they'll stumble home with The Right Person.  Fat
chance.  I stopped shopping for men at bars years ago.
 
Take a wild guess where I met Dr. Free Ride.

But the clubs can be fun anyway, if you ignore the
undercurrent of desperation.  At the very least, I can
replace thoughts of Josh with thoughts of the hot
club-boys all around me, right?

I wish.  First of all, the hot club-boys are all 21;
anyone over 25 has that silent neediness seeping from
their pores.  Second, Josh is pretty much all I can
think of, even at the club.  

I mean--that kiss?  It's been two hours and I'm
*still* tingling in all the right places.

Don't get me wrong, and I'm having a good time.  It's
loud and dark and hot in here, and I'm not the world's
best dancer, but I can hold my own.  Ginger, Bonnie
and I have been on the packed dance floor, grooving to
the music since we got here.  We pause only to wind
our way through the crowd at the bar and refresh
ourselves with alcoholic beverages.

It's just that usually, I close my eyes and let the
music take over, moving easily.  Tonight, I have other
things on my mind.  I have other things I would rather
be doing with my body.

Even when an incredibly cute, well-built man dances up
to me, I can't get my mind off of Josh.  I'm bumping
and grinding with this guy, and I'm remembering how
Josh's body felt pressed up against mine.  This man
leans over and tells me his name, and I can hear Josh
calling me "Donnatella."  Brett--the dancer--pulls me
closer with a hand on my hip, but there's no spark. 
No tingle like when Josh touches me.

Bonnie and Ginger and giving me encouraging looks
behind Brett's back, and I just smile and nod.  I can
feel Brett's eyes traveling my body, and I just wish
it were Josh.  Watching me.

Eventually, it's too much.

The man is getting grabby, the smoke is making my eyes
sting, and the alcohol is just making me tired.

I excuse myself and dance over to Ginger and Bonnie,
yelling my plans in their ears.  They're sad to see me
to go, but they understand.  

Bonnie drove, so I stand outside the club for a couple
minutes waiting for a cab.  The trip home is
relatively quiet, although my ears are still ringing a
little from the music.

When I get to my place, I give Winnie a scratch behind
the ears.  Clover is ignoring me, as always.  My
roommate--surprise, surprise--is staying at her
boyfriend's apartment.  I'm pretty sure I'll be
looking for a single when our lease comes up for
renewal in a couple months.  

My body is weary, but my mind is abuzz; I couldn't
sleep now if I tried.  Besides which, if I crash
without washing my hair, my pillow will reek of smoke
for days.

The shower, unfortunately, reminds me of my erotic
dream about Josh.  Not that I ever need much prompting
to recall the more pleasant details of my nighttime
fantasies.  Still, the shower plus the amazing kiss
and the look on his face when he watched me leave...
It's too much to expect any woman to deal with
gracefully.

I jump out of the shower before I can lose myself in
fantasyland.  I can't control my subconscious, but
I'll be damned if I'll bring myself off while thinking
about my boss.  Who is most assuredly not at home
longing for me.

I'm not going to be that woman.

I am, however, reaching unprecedented levels of sexual
frustration, some of which I vent on my hair while
brushing out the few tangles.  I towel off and pad
naked into my bedroom.  I grab the first things in my
drawer, which turn out to be a pair of dark blue
panties, grey pajama bottoms that are almost too big
for me, and a clingy green tank top.  

Yeah, I'm irresistible.

I don't bother with slippers, even though the hardwood
floors are chilly.  Instead, I jump from area rug to
area rug like a child until I reach the kitchen. 
After inhaling a glass of water, I refill my glass and
sip the second glass more slowly.

And then there's a knock at the door.

I freeze.  

It can't possibly be Josh.  There's no way.

Wishful thinking does not ever work.

Considering my neighborhood, I should probably be in
the corner, panicked and dialing 911.  Instead, I
stand there like an idiot, the water glass halfway to
my lips and listen for--

"Donnatella Moss!"

I blink at the door.  The man who gave me a
heart-stopping kiss several hours ago is right on the
other side.

Joshua Lyman is here.

***

Joshua Lyman is here, and the man looks incredibly
hot.  He's wearing this pair of jeans that are so
broken in that they mold to certain, impressive parts
of his body.  His amazing body.  And he's got that
thin, dark brown sweater on, the one that just hints
at the sculpted arms beneath.

He looks positively delicious.

I, on the other hand, look like an idiot.  

As evidenced by the fact that Josh just stands there
in the doorway and stares at me.  At my chest,
actually.  I can only imagine what he's thinking about
my ill-fitting, mismatched makeshift pajamas.  But
still, the intensity of his gaze is making me flush. 

"What do you want, Josh?"  That was supposed to sound
tired.  Possibly disinterested.  Instead, I sounded
seductive; seduced.

Which I am not, I should point out.  I refuse to
admit--I refuse to *believe* that the mere sight of
Joshua Lyman in those jeans is enough to get me
aroused.  Life couldn't possibly be that cruel.

Josh raises his eyes to mine, and I can't help but
notice that his pupils are dilated.  Must be the lack
of light in the entryway--I keep forgetting to change
the damn lightbulb.

"I wanted--"  He clears his throat and tries again. 
"I wanted to apologize."

I give him my best skeptical look.  "At 12:47 in the
morning?"

The corner of his mouth quirks, and he's giving me
that half-smirk that makes me want to lick it off. 
"Seemed as good a time as any."

I am not yet ready to forgive his remarks from
earlier.  Hell, I haven't even let him in the
apartment yet; I'm blocking the opening with my body,
my hand still on the doorknob.  I shift my weight,
thrusting my hip out in what *would* be a sexy
position, were my pajama pants not dipping dangerously
low.  "Surprised to find me at home?" I ask, my tone
sharp.

Josh shrugs.  "Relieved," he offers.

I snap out of the pose and glare at him.  "I can't
believe you.  Did you honestly think I would--"

"Donnatella," he interrupts.  He speaks so softly that
I barely hear him, but he's using this silk over
gravel tone and I shut up immediately.  I've never
heard him use that voice before, and it's unbearably
sexy.  I am practically salivating as he continues. 
"I'm relieved you're here," he says, taking a step
towards me, "because I wasn't sure how much longer I
could wait."

Perhaps the lust has finally addled my mind, but now
I'm confused.  He's relieved because he just couldn't
wait to apologize?  Does this sound like Josh Lyman
behavior?  

I shake my head at him.  "What are you talking about,
Josh?  You hate apologizing."

"I do," he grins, stepping closer.  "Are you going to
let me in?"

I can smell him, he's so close to me.  My breathing
speeds up, and rather than let him see what he's doing
to me, I release the door and turn away.  Retreating
to the kitchen, I rescue my abandoned water glass and
take a long swallow.  I'm parched, suddenly.

I put the glass into the sink and turn, startled to
find Josh right in front of me.  It's strange to be
this close to him in my bare feet; I'm usually looking
at him straight on, but I've got to tilt my head back
tonight.  

Josh stares down at me.  "That tank top..."  He stops
and shakes his head, his gaze dropping down my body
again.  Which is unfortunate, because my nipples are
hard.  A fact that Josh is unlikely to miss,
considering he's staring directly at my breasts.

Josh gets this slow, lopsided smile on his face as he
meets my eyes again.  I've never seen this look on his
face before; I have no idea what's running through
that crafty little mind of his.

"What?" I ask.  Whisper.  His eyes are quite
mesmerizing.  If I didn't know better, I'd think--

Josh is kissing me.

Holy shit, Josh is kissing me again.

I've been caught in this constant state of arousal
since the kiss in his office, and the touch of his
lips, the feel of his tongue against mine, it's almost
overwhelming.  My lower back is pressed up against the
edge of the counter, and it would probably be painful
if I could spare the energy to pay attention.

But I am far too busy kissing Josh.

I'm not quite sure how it happened, but one of my
hands is tangled in his unruly hair, and the other is
clutching at the skin of his back, underneath his
sweater and his t-shirt.  Josh isn't idle, either; my
tank top is riding up as his hand smooths over my
spine.  He's cupping my jaw too, his fingers
whispering along my neck.

This is too good.

It's just really too good.  I must be asleep.  I must
be dreaming.  Because Josh is crushing me to him, his
mouth moving over mine with stunning urgency.  And he
is already hard.

I let out a completely undignified whimper and press
my hips to him, my hand snaking down to his ass to
increase the pressure.  Josh moans, and his hand
slides to the back of my neck, tilting my head for
better access.  

I'm lightheaded.  I swear, I'm not getting enough
oxygen to my brain.  I should really pull away and
take a breath, but damn this man has a talented mouth.

With a ragged groan, Josh releases me.  But he doesn't
move away, so we are inches apart, staring at each
other, his erection pressed low against my belly.  It
is surreal.  I'm half-expecting to be wrenched to
consciousness by the insistent buzzing of my alarm
clock.

Instead, the sound of Josh's harsh breathing
penetrates my lust-induced haze.  And then it hits me:
he wants me.

Joshua Lyman wants me.

I am amazed.  I really am--the dear, daft man finally
got a clue.

Suddenly, I'm beaming at him like a complete lunatic. 
I half-expect him to bolt for the door.

But Josh brings his hands to my face, gently tilting
my head so he can press a delicate kiss to my
forehead.  Then he pulls back and smirks at me.  "Told
you I didn't want to apologize."

I roll my eyes.  "Stubborn idiot.  I thought you said
you came here to apologize?"  I'm amazed at us.  I'm
amazed that we're standing here, halfway to sex and
still arguing as if nothing's changed.

Maybe nothing has, really.  We've always had this...
*thing*, we just never chose to acknowledge it.  Until
now.

Josh smooths a hand up my back and I shiver.  He grins
and leans in to feather small kisses on my neck.  My
hands clench fistfuls of his sweater, and I'm quite
glad the counter's there, because my legs are
trembling.

"I said," Josh breathes into my neck, "that I *wanted*
to apologize.  Past tense."

I manage to snort in an entirely unsexy manner, and
Josh chuckles into the delicate skin underneath my
jaw.  I shift my weight, seeking some pressure to
relieve the tension building inside of me.  "And now?"
I say, more to distract myself than from any real
interest in his answer.  I mean, it's quite obvious
what he wants at this point.

Without warning, Josh's hands sweep down my body,
latching around my thighs to lift me onto the counter.
My legs part, instinctively wrapping around his hips.
I would be embarrassed by the fact that I whimper
when I feel his erection brushing against my sex, but
Josh makes this incredible little moaning noise of his
own.  I guess we're even.

After a moment, Josh meets my gaze.  "If you don't
know what I want right now, then maybe I haven't been
explicit enough."

I shiver in his arms.  It's ridiculous what this man
can do to me with the raise of an eyebrow.  But I will
not be bested.

"Maybe you haven't," I say, then drop one hand to the
cold tile and scoot my body forward, precariously
close to the edge.  Which, coincidentally, brings our
bodies together abruptly.  It's Josh's turn to
shudder, and I give him a self-satisfied smirk.  

It takes Josh a moment to recover, and then his hands
are hot on the skin of my lower back, pushing the
material of the tank top ever higher.  "I haven't
what?" he rasps, lapping at my collarbone.  

I link my ankles together and lean back to give him
room to work his magic.  My hands land on his
impressive biceps and it's not even an effort to sound
breathless when I answer him.  "Maybe you haven't been
explicit enough."

Josh's tongue veers dangerously close to the edge of
my tank top, and I arch my back expectantly.  Then he
backs off, fixing me with that insufferably sexy
smirk.  "Well," he says.  "I'll have to do my best to
remedy the situation then, don't you think?"

Oh, god, I definitely think.  

I can't force my voice to cooperate, but Josh seems to
understand when I yank his mouth to mine and kiss him
for all I'm worth.  He responds instantly, grinding
his erection into me.  My hands find the hem of his
sweater and yank clumsily.  We separate for a second
while he tugs it over his head and tosses it aside,
then we're kissing again.

I can reach more skin now, and Josh pulls away a bit,
his hands landing on my breasts.  I think I may have
torn his t-shirt just then trying to pull it roughly
up his body; Josh is too busy to help.  He's rolling
my nipples between his fingers, and it feels so
amazing.  I'm squirming on the countertop.

For the love of god, we have entirely too many clothes
on right now.  I tear my mouth away from Josh,
panting.  He meets my eyes and smiles, then his gaze
drops to my breasts.  It is unbearably erotic,
watching him watch me with that incredibly aroused
look on his face.  

"First step," he says, and I'm momentarily confused. 
He's trying to talk to me right now?  He has his hands
on my breasts and he expects me to be able to converse
coherently?  I'm relieved when he moves one hand to
the bottom of my tank top.  "Off," he says succinctly.

I grin at him.  "You first," I counter, my fingers
still twisted into his damn undershirt.  I want him as
close to naked as possible.  And I want it
immediately.

Josh relents, releasing me and removing his shirt.  I
actually moan at the sight.  This man's biceps can
reduce me to monosyllables.  And his chest...  And
that flat stomach with the line of hair disappearing
into his jeans.

Where do I even start?

Josh lets me look without comment, his hands
gravitating to my hips.

I clutch at the muscles in his upper arms and fight an
almost overwhelming urge to bite his muscular
shoulder.  He is hot and smooth and I can't get enough
of touching him.  I catch Josh's eye and slowly lick
my lips.  His mouth drops open in the most appealing
way, but I'm headed further south.

I want to kiss his scar.  I want to thank his body for
not giving up.

My eyes sting with tears as I lean forward, pressing a
delicate kiss to each end.  One hand drops from his
arm to caress the mottled entry wound beside the
surgical scar and Josh hisses.  

I jerk away from him, horrified.  "Did I hurt you?"

"No," Josh assures me, reaching for my hands and
tangling our fingers together.  "It's just sensitive."

"I'm sorry," I whisper.  

"Don't be," he answers softly.  "Just... don't stop
touching me."

It's too much, and I bite back a sob as I throw my
arms around his neck and pull him to me.  I came so
close to losing him.

"Donnatella," Josh says, his arms wrapped securely
around my waist.  "It's okay.  Your hands--you feel
amazing." 

I place an open-mouthed kiss on the tendon in his
neck, and his grip on me tightens convulsively.  I
smile into his skin.  "You feel amazing too, Joshua."

He pulls back, then raises an eyebrow as his fingers
tug at my tank top.  "Can I?"  He sounds like a little
kid begging for candy.

I grin at him.  "May I," I correct.  "And you
certainly may."  I obediently raise my arms as he
peels the fabric from my body.  

The look on Josh's face right now is breathtaking. 
He's practically panting, and my abandoned top is
still dangling from his nerveless fingers.  

I shift slightly on the counter and he whimpers.  

I am grinning like an idiot.  "Joshua?" 

It takes him a moment to meet my gaze.  "You're
just..."  He shrugs, a dopey grin on his lips.  But
those dimples are out in full force, and I can't even
be annoyed at his inability to verbalize this.

I can, however, make fun of him.  "Eloquent," I say. 
"Sharp tongue, my--"

The rest of my insult is lost as Josh's mouth lands on
my breast.  

That tongue.  Dear god, that tongue.

It's my turn to whimper at the delicious sensations. 
One large hand is splayed on my bare back, holding me
in place.  The other drops lower, tracing circles on
my hips and clutching me close.

My hands tangle in his hair holding him exactly where
he is, gently sucking my nipple into his mouth.  He
hums, and I nearly jump off the counter at the ripples
of pleasure.  

Josh smooths his free hand around my hip, caressing
the top of my thigh before dipping lower.  

"Josh," I manage, my voice nothing but a strangled
whisper at this point.  I am about two seconds away
from begging, my hips straining off the counter
seeking his touch when he finally makes contact
through the thin material of my pajamas.  

He releases my nipple and looks up at me, his lips
wet.  The sight is so erotic; I just stare at him,
breathing hard until his fingers find my clit.  My
hips jerk up, seeking more contact, and my hand
clutches suddenly at his bicep.  

Josh watches my face, smiling when my breath catches
in my throat.  My eyes slide shut; I am overwhelmed,
my body straining for release.  And his fingers--god,
the man has talents that I never suspected.  Well,
okay, I often found my attention turning to his habit
of twirling pens absently in his fingers, but I had no
idea he could do *this*.  He seems to sense the exact
speed, the right pressure, to reduce me to wordless
gasps.

Josh's free hand lands on my thigh, pushing my legs
further apart as he shifts away from me.  I manage to
open my eyes when I feel him tugging the waistband of
my pajama bottoms down.  He's about to drop to his
knees on the tile floor, but I catch his elbow in
time.  

"Wait," I say, shaking my head.  His fingers pause
their pleasant work.

Josh looks disappointed, which ratchets up my arousal
further.  "Donna, I want--"

"I want too," I assure him with an enthusiastic nod. 
"But I don't think your knees can take the linoleum."

Josh stares at me for a moment.  "You're worrying
about my knees?" he asks, his tone incredulous.

"Yes."

"Now?"  He punctuates this with a quick flick of his
fingertips against my clit.

"Yes."  I don't know if I'm talking about his words or
his actions at this point.

"You're worrying about my knees when I'm about to--"

I grab him by the back of the neck and yank him to me,
shutting him up in a most pleasing way.  I meant it to
be a quick kiss, but we're just so damned good at it
that we end up pressed up together, skin to skin.  It
feels amazing, our bodies touching with nothing in
between.  It feels natural, like we were meant for
this.

"Josh," I say, pushing him away reluctantly. 
"Bedroom."

He raises an eyebrow.  "Carpeting?"

"Absolutely," I nod.  I'm beaming again.

"Excellent," he answers, with searing heat in those
gorgeous, brown eyes.

Then I slip off of the counter, take his hand, and
lead him to my bedroom.

***

I glance back at Josh when I'm nearing the bed
because, really, this is just too perfect to believe. 
I keep waiting for my alarm to go off.

Then I meet Josh's eyes and read the desire on his
face, and I know this is real.

Josh, who has been following me docile as a lamb, tugs
me around to face him.  He pulls me in and kisses me,
and it's the best kiss yet.  It's passion and
tenderness; lust and love all mixed together.  

Too soon, Josh pulls back and grins at me.  He tilts
his head towards the bed, then glances down. 
"Carpet," he notes.

The anticipation in his voice is incredible; I can
feel it resonate all through my body.  It doesn't
hurt, of course, that Josh is sliding his hands down
my back as well.  When he reaches my hips, he wraps
his hands around my waist and walks me back towards
the bed.

My legs hit the edge and I am about to collapse
gratefully onto the mattress when his grip tightens.  

"Donnatella," he says, "you're wearing too many
clothes."

Luckily, he's still holding me up, or I'd have ended
up in an undignified heap on the bed at the seductive
note in his voice.  Also the implication of what's
going to happen when I get out of my clothes.  The
thought of Josh touching me, of Josh's talented
tongue--I may actually die of anticipation.

But I am determined to keep him as off-balance as I
am.  So I reach out and cup the impressive bulge in
his pants.

Josh's eyes widen and he thrusts his hips forward.  I
just grin at him.  "You too."

"Fair point," he manages, his dimples putting in an
appearance.  "But since there's carpeting for my
knees, I respectfully submit that--"

I can't help it--I start laughing.

"What?" Josh demands, sounding a bit miffed.

"You," I snicker.  "Respectfully submitting?"

He gives an appreciative chuckle, then attempts an
offended look.  The dimples ruin it entirely.  "It's a
figure of speech--"

"Which you've probably never used before," I
interject.

Josh leans in and nips at my neck.  I am going to
become Sarcasm Girl if *that's* my punishment for
cracking wise.  My hand tightens on him and he groans.

"Besides," Josh says, pulling away and pinning me with
a look that could melt diamonds.  "I can be as
submissive as you want."

I whimper at the unexpected, erotic image his words
conjure.

I actually whimper.

"That's certainly an interesting possibility," I
answer throatily.  "But tonight--"

"Excellent," Josh interrupts with a smirk.

And then he's on his knees before me, his lips and
tongue doing amazing things to my navel.  Things that
make me very, very desperate to feel his mouth a bit
lower.  His hands, meanwhile, hook into my pajamas to
slide them down my body.

My fingers tangle into his hair to remain upright as
he abandons my abdomen.  Then, with a mere upturned
smirk as warning, Josh pulls at my knees so that I
plop gracelessly onto the edge of the bed.  

"Joshua!"

"What?" he asks, dimpling at me.  I can't seem to stay
irritated, especially with the way his fingers are
tracing patterns on my thighs.  Then he leans up and
kisses me soundly on the mouth. 

Just as I gather my wits about me enough to kiss him
back, he pulls away, his hands landing on my abdomen. 
I shiver at the contact.  He smirks up at me.  "You
may want to lay back, Donnatella."

I roll my eyes.  "Has anyone ever told you that your
ego is--Oh, *god*!"

He is there.  His mouth--his tongue is on my sex.

Dear god, I need to lay down.

I collapse backwards onto the bed as Josh's amazing,
talented, Olympic-worthy tongue finds my clit.  If I
could concentrate on anything other than what his
mouth is doing to me, maybe I could control the
utterly wanton noises I'm making.  Or the way I'm
pressing myself up against him to increase the
pressure.

But I honestly don't care enough at this point.  As
long as he--God!

Josh smooths one hand over my thigh, lifting my leg
and draping it over his shoulder to grant him better
access.  Which he takes immediate advantage of, his
tongue circling my clit at just the right speed.  He
reaches up and tangles his hand with mine, giving me
an anchor as my body begins that erotic ascent.

I am about three seconds from the most amazing orgasm
of my life when he lifts his head from me.  My hips,
entirely of their own accord, attempt to follow him.

And the bastard actually laughs.  

I manage to lift my head from the bedspread and glare
down at him.  "Where the hell do you think you're
going?"

He gives me his best innocent face.  "You were saying
something about my ego?  You know, before I so rudely
interrupted you."

"Joshua Lyman, you are an egotistical jackass, you
know that?" I say, but I'm laughing.  Who knew sex
could be this damn fun?

"I'm just saying," Josh breathes into the skin of my
inner thigh, one hand brushing through my damp curls. 
"I interrupted.  Please continue."

I try to keep glaring, I really do.  But I am just
loving this.  And I end up laughing at him.  My body
is begging for release, and he's bringing the banter? 
Ridiculous, impossible man.

Also quite talented.

"No," I say finally, "why don't *you* continue, and
we'll discuss the finer points--God!  Josh!"

The infuriating man pulls away *again* after one
agonizing stroke of his tongue.  "I didn't realize I
was worthy of deification, Donnatella."

"You're not," I grumble.  With my free hand, I reach
down and grab a handful of hair.  And then I grin
stupidly at him.  "In this specific case, it appears
your overwhelming ego may possibly be supported by the
empirical evidence." 

Josh is smiling up at me, his eyes sparkling in the
dim light.  "It appears?"

"Yes," I say, managing an imperious nod even as his
fingers tease my hipbone.  Have I mentioned that the
pads of his fingers are like live wires?  Everywhere
he touches me tingles.  "I haven't quite made a
determination yet."

"Really?" Josh laughs.  He is just too much.  He knows
exactly what he's doing to me, exactly how close I am
to losing it, and he's just sitting there taunting me.
 God, I love this man.

"Really," I answer.  "Perhaps further examination of
the--Yes!"

I hate to feed his ego, but the man's mouth is
amazing.  It only takes a few more moments of that
amazing tongue on my clit before I am there.  I am
right there, dangling on the edge of the most intense
orgasm of my life.  Josh just needs to--right there.  

Just a little more pressure and--God!

My hand clenches around his, the other pulling his
face harder against me because I am splitting apart.

I am burning up, and it's all his fault.

My next coherent thought is:  He is going to pay for
that.

***

"Donnatella?" Josh asks.  

He's smirking.  I can tell he's smirking.  I can't
even open my eyes yet, but I just know from that
self-satisfied tone of voice he's using that he's
smirking at me.  

"You're so screwed," I threaten.  

And then he's laughing.  "Not yet," he says, "but I
fervently hope--"

It's amazing what a mocking Josh does for my energy
level.  I can't possibly allow him to just wallow in
his perceived victory, so I launch myself at him,
pulling him down half on top of me and kissing him for
all I'm worth.

God, that tongue is just amazing.  All that ranting he
does apparently keeps his mouth in tip-top shape, and
I plan to take full advantage of my newfound
knowledge.

He's still hard, of course, and he's pressing his
erection rather insistently into my thigh.  I grin
into his mouth.  "Getting a little impatient, Joshua?"

Josh pulls back and smirks down at me.  "Well, you did
promise I would be screwed."

I have to laugh.  I just have to laugh.  I am having
the best time with him.  My entire body is still
shaking from the aftermath of that astounding orgasm,
but I muster the strength to flip him onto his back
and straddle him.

Josh moans and squirms beneath me, his hands landing
on my breasts.  I arch my back, pressing myself into
his palms.

"I was speaking metaphorically," I tell him.

"What?"  He seems to be having trouble thinking
straight right now, and I am absurdly pleased.  The
balance of power has definitely shifted; he's
desperate, and I'm sated.  This is going to be too
much fun.

"You realize, of course, that by providing me with--"
I pause, unable to come up with an appropriate
euphemism.  "Let's just say I'm much less desperate
than  you are at this point."

Josh stares up at me, his brow wrinkling as he figures
out what I'm saying.  "So?"  He sweeps one hand down
my side, just stroking the skin with those delightful
fingers.

"So," I say, leaning down to press a series of kisses
across his chest.  His incredibly muscular chest. 
"You really need to lose those jeans."

"Well, Donnatella, that's difficult when a beautiful
woman has me pinned to the bed."

Complete sentences?  I've got to nip that in the bud. 
I suck on his nipple for a moment until he's groaning
and thrusting his hips up at me.  Much better.  I
raise my body and slide down the bed.

Josh attempts to look nonchalant, as he watches me. 
He does a good job at first, crossing his arms behind
his head as I unbutton and unzip his jeans.  But
beneath me, his legs are shaking.  I smile at him and
lean over, placing wet, openmouthed kisses just below
his belly button.

"God!" Josh yelps.

I smirk at him.  "I didn't realize I was worthy of
deification, Joshua," I toss his words back to him. 
Then I stick my tongue in his belly button.

"You'll be demoted," he gasps, "if you stop that thing
you're doing with your mouth."

I immediately stop.  Josh half-laughs, half-groans in
disappointment.  But, really, he should know better
than to give me such a perfect opportunity to torture
him.

I tug at his waistband and give him an expectant look.
 It takes him a second to figure out my complicated
code, then he raises his hips.  I work his jeans and
boxers down past his erection and--

Wow.

I mean...  Wow.  

Josh is beautiful.  Now, I realize the penis is not an
inherently beautiful piece of equipment, but when you
take into account the fact that this is Josh, this is
what I've done to Josh...  He is beautiful.  

Also impressive.  In fact, he definitely doesn't need
to drive a fast car to make up for any deficiency on
his part.  He could probably drive a go-kart and be
completely secure in his manhood.

I abandon his pants halfway down his thighs and take
him in one hand.  "How about I do something else with
my mouth?"  

Josh moves faster than I would have thought possible,
ripping his hands from behind his head and reaching
down for me.  Desperate is a good look on Josh.  "No,"
he moans, "I can't--I want--"

I stare at him, even as I caress his erection with my
fingers.  "What do you want, Joshua?"

Josh tugs at my shoulders.  "You, Donnatella."

I smile.  And then I kiss him.  Hard.

After a moment, Josh flops backwards, pulling me with
him.  Laughing, he rolls me onto my back and says,
"Don't move."  Then he sits up and struggles with his
jeans.  His gorgeous back is begging to be touched,
the hard muscles shifting under his soft skin in quite
an inviting manner.

"Not even to do this?" I ask innocently, trailing my
fingers up and down his spine.  Josh quivers.

"That kind of moving is fine," he mutters, fighting
with a particularly stubborn shoelace.  I can't help
but notice that his hands are shaking.

I push myself up on one hand and lean over, kissing
his back.  He is just so beautiful.  Naked Josh.  This
is going to take some getting used to.  Before, I was
far too preoccupied with my own arousal to really look
at him, but he is truly a work of art.  His body is
disgustingly muscular for someone who works eighteen
hour days.  It's not fair; I mean, when does he find
time to work out? 

The play of muscles in his back as he divests himself
of the last of his clothing is utterly mesmerizing. 
Watching, I am convinced I could be content to just
watch him move for the rest of the night.

Then Josh turns back to me with those dimples and that
impressive erection and I am suddenly in need of some
serious action.  

"That mouth," Josh tells me with a delighted grin,
"should be illegal."

"Illegal?" I laugh into his chest as he all but
tackles me.  

"A controlled substance?" he suggests, nipping at my
neck.

"My mouth isn't a drug, Josh," I point out reasonably,
even as his hand finds my breast again, temporarily
relieving me of the ability to think clearly.

"It's intoxicating," Josh mumbles into my hair.  His
hand snakes in between my legs, his fingers dancing
through the damp curls.  I'm still incredibly
sensitive, and I nearly levitate when he brushes
against my clit.

"I'm ready, Josh," I assure him.  Hell, I've been
ready since that first kiss in his office, but there's
no need to stroke his massive ego.

Then Josh shifts a bit and I open my legs a little
more and he is there.

We both freeze, holding this intense gaze.  His brown
eyes are wide and dark and sparkling in the dim light.
 The only sound in the room is our harsh breathing.  

"Josh?" I ask.

"I'm fine," he says.  "Tested six months after Mandy."

I frown at him.  "You had to bring her up?"

Josh, being the insufferable idiot that he is, smirks.
 "You never did like Mandy," he says.  Only Joshua
would consider this an appropriate time and
circumstance to accuse me of being jealous of his
ex-girlfriend!  I glare at him, but he just keeps
talking, "I always wondered--"

"Joshua, could you please concentrate?"

He slides against me and we both groan.  "I am," he
manages.  "Believe me.  Do we need anything?"

I close my eyes and try to remember if I took my pill
this morning.  It's so routine that I can't
specifically recall, but I'm a creature of habit; I
always take my pill and a vitamin.  So I lock gazes
with Josh and shake my head.  "No," I whisper, awed by
the enormity, the intimacy of the moment.  "We're
fine."

Josh nods, but doesn't move.  He's still staring at
me.  His arms are shaking with the effort of
restraint, but he's waiting for my permission.

God, this man is just too sweet.  I grin up at him. 
"What the hell are you waiting for?"

And then Josh is laughing.  He leans down and kisses
me, hard and desperate.  When he pulls away, he meets
my gaze and starts to push into me, inside of me.

I bite down on my lip a bit, because it's been a while
and it's uncomfortable at first.  It's pleasure and a
little bit of pain all mixed up into this amazing
connection Josh and I are making.  I think I'm
grinning.

Josh watches me carefully as he enters, then he stops.
 "You okay?"

I'm not sure it's humanly possible to feel any better
that this, but I'm not about to tell that to the
walking ego.  My hands are tracing patterns on that
amazing back of his and I nod.  "I'm fine, Josh."

"Just fine?"  Josh mock frowns at me, even as he
begins to pull out again.  The effect is ruined by the
way his breath catches in his throat. 

"Better than fine," I answer, stroking his chest. 
There are no words to describe this.  This is
perfection. 

"How much better?" Josh asks.  He thrusts back into
me, harder this time.

I inhale sharply.  "God!"

Josh laughs a bit, and then I tighten around him and
it's his turn to gasp.  "Donna!"

"Remember," I ask, as he withdraws, "when I said you
were screwed?"

"How could I forget?" he asks, his voice trembling a
bit with exertion as he moves.  "And I should point
out that I *am* screwed."

I lift my hips up to receive him.  The discomfort is
fading fast in favor of arousal.  Intense, sudden
arousal.  "You're an idiot."  I tighten my muscles
around him.  "And this is going to be the best you've
ever had." 

Josh pauses, panting, and grins at me.  "Are you
*threatening* me with good sex?"  He hovers over me,
his smirk inches above me and my body caged in by
those amazing biceps.  I can't resist leaning up and
kissing him.

After a moment, I drop back to the mattress.  "No," I
answer, shifting impatiently against him.  Would he
move, for the love of god?  "Amazing sex.  Outstanding
sex."  Because, really, it's Josh and me.  How could
it be anything less?  Besides which I have already had
my fun, and am free to concentrate on him.  And on
making this the most amazing night of his life.

"Yes," Josh grins, starting to thrust into me again. 
"Outstanding.  This is bad why?"

"It's not bad," I answer.  God, he feels good.  I
don't usually get much personal enjoyment out of this
specific position, but Josh must be doing something
right.  I wrap my legs higher.  "It's just that I can
use my considerable powers of--Yeah, like that."

Josh's body is slick with sweat, and I run my hands
down his back to his ass, squeezing appreciatively. 
Josh groans and thrusts harder.  "Like that?"

"Yes."  

"You were saying?" he asks, leaning down to suck on my
neck.

"I don't usually, you know..."  My hands tighten on
his hips as he shifts to a particularly good angle. 
Not sure I can be coherent when his body is hitting
mine like this.  "Like this, I don't--"

Josh pulls back and stares down at me.  Have I
mentioned that his eyes are just beautiful?  "You
don't climax like this?" he asks.  

I'm blushing.  This is ridiculous.  Joshua Lyman is
inside of me, my legs are wrapped around his hips,
I've been threatening him with the best sex of his
life, and I'm blushing because he said "climax" to me.
 "Don't worry about it," I mumble.  "I just--Joshua!"

Joshua, being the overacheiver that he is, flips us
over so that I'm astride him.  I have no idea how he
did that without crushing my leg, but I'm not
complaining.  And it feels incredible; I sink down,
taking him in further and bringing my clit into
contact with his body.  "God," I moan.

Josh smirks up at me.  "Better?"

I try to look superior, I really do.  "A little," I
concede.  

"Good," he grins, his hands smoothing over my thighs,
my hips, my breasts.  "What are you waiting for?"

"You," I laugh, "are impossible."  I rotate my hips a
bit and he gasps.  I quirk an eyebrow at him and do it
again, slower.

Josh's hands tighten on my hips, and he urges me up. 
"Impossibly good," he offers.

"No," I say, sinking back onto him with an
appreciative moan.  "Just impossible."  God, he is so
deep inside of me right now.

Josh slides one hand down in between my legs, letting
his thumb skim over my clit.  My eyes snap open.  

"I'm close, Donna," Josh manages, and the tinge of
desperation in his voice is almost enough to finish me
off.  Then his hips begin lifting up to meet me,
increasing the pressure building in my body.  "Tell me
how you want it."

I shake my head, because speech is getting difficult. 
His fingers are on my clit, and he's thrusting into
me, and it just feels so amazing.  I heed my body's
advice and speed my motions.

"Donnatella," he moans, and his free hand clenches my
thigh.  He's moving faster, his breathing harsh. 
"Please."

I don't know what he's asking me for.  I can't seem to
process much of anything.  I grab his free hand and
tangle it with mine, using him for leverage.  "Josh,"
I whisper.  Just his name.  Just an affirmation.

My movements are less controlled, less graceful as I
push myself down onto him.  Josh's fingers fumble on
my clit, and I'm so close.  

"Donna," Josh is desperate.  I can tell from his voice
that he's barely hanging on.

I meet his gaze and smile at him.  "Come for me,
Josh."

He shakes his head stubbornly; he wants to wait for
me, I can tell.  

"Yes, Josh," I say, squeezing my muscles tight around
him.  

"Donna," he gasps, and then he is coming, thrusting
helplessly into me.  The look on his face is amazing,
and he doesn't look away from me, not once.  It is
unbearably erotic.

And I am so, so close; I think I'm whimpering.  I drop
my free hand down, pressing his fingers harder,
circling my clit once, twice.  And then I am there.

I shatter, riding out Josh's orgasm and my own before
collapsing onto him.

I am exhausted.

I don't think I can move.  Ever.

But that's fine.  I've just found my new favorite
place to be:  Plastered to Josh Lyman's naked body.

***

I may have dozed off for a bit there, but Josh's fiery
fingers feathering down my back bring me back to the
present.  I gather my energy and lift my head to meet
his gaze.  

"Hi," he grins up at me, dimples out in full force. 
He is gorgeous--sweaty and slick and just beautifully
sated.

"Hi," I repeat, with what I'm sure is a matching,
dopey smile. 

I should really try to move; this is hardly a
dignified position, splayed as I am over his body. 
But I'm reluctant to relinquish this connection.  I'm
not sure what we're supposed to be saying to each
other right now.  I don't want this to become awkward
or strange or uncomfortable, not after the best sex
I've ever had.  Because if we get strange with each
other, that means I don't get to sleep with Joshua
Lyman again, and that is just unthinkable.

"So," Josh says conversationally as his hands cup my
ass, "I must admit that I am one hundred percent, well
and truly screwed, Donnatella."

And just like that, all hints of awkwardness are gone
as I dissolve into laughter.  Josh joins me, and the
feel of his body shaking with mirth against me is
sweet and joyful.  This feels like something I'm
supposed to be doing, enjoying Josh like this. 
Sharing this part of me with Josh.

I ease myself off of him with a twinge of discomfort,
then settle next to him, my legs twining with his and
one arm wrapped around his waist.  "I told you," I
boast.  I absently press kisses into his shoulder. 
Have I mentioned that the man's arms are sculpted? 
Adonis has nothing on Josh Lyman.  "You should listen
to me." 

"I do," Josh says, pulling me closer to kiss my
forehead.  He's quiet for a moment.  "Donna, you know
this wasn't--I mean, I didn't come over here just
to--"

"Josh," I interrupt him, "I know.  It isn't just that
for me, either."

"Excellent."  Josh moves suddenly, rolling over so I
land on my back with him half on top of me.  He leans
down and kisses me, softly.  "Because I must admit to
being insanely curious as to what other things you can
do with that mouth."

I roll my eyes at him.  "You're an impossible man."

"Impossibly good," he corrects, grinning.  "If that
display just now was any indication."

"Impossibly arrogant," I offer, my hands exploring the
newly-familiar muscles of his back.  I am quickly
growing obsessed with Josh's naked skin.  "Hardly a
surprising development.  Just promise me you won't
walk around tomorrow preening like a peacock."

"Preening like a peacock?" Josh snickers.

"It's an expression," I answer haughtily.

"Whatever.  Tomorrow, I will be my witty, charming
self, and no one will be the wiser."

"Oh, god," I groan.  "You're going to strut, aren't
you?  And smirk.  CJ's going to know the minute we
walk in!"

Josh stares down at me, mock offended.  "Please!  I am
the soul of discretion."

I snort indelicately, but the effect is ruined by a
sudden yawn.  

"Tired?" Josh asks with a soft smile.

I nod, my eyes drifting shut.  "Just promise me you
won't ask for baked goods."

"Good night, Donnatella," Josh whispers.  Then he
scoots down the bed a little, rests his head on my
chest, and curls his body into mine.  I don't usually
sleep on my back, but tonight I have no problem.  Must
have something to do with the man in my bed.  

And in the morning, Josh wakes me sliding back into
bed.  I roll blindly towards him, and there's a
strange, crinkling noise right before he yelps.

I open my eyes and stare at him.  "What was that noise
you just made?"

Josh is sitting there in his boxers, hair adorably
rumpled, and with this perfectly placed sunbeam
highlighting his chest.  This, I realize, is what I
want to see every morning.  Sleepy, half-naked Josh is
definitely the way to start the day.

Josh shrugs and I am momentarily distracted by the way
his shoulders flex and release.  I believe I my be
salivating.  Josh grins at me and holds out a small
paper bag.  "Baked goods."

"What?" I say, pulling myself into a sitting position.
 I smirk when Josh's gaze drops immediately to my
breasts as the sheet falls away.  

"Baked goods," Josh repeats, and he's giving me that
smile.  The one with the dimples and the vulnerability
and I want him right now.  

I am on the verge of tears, suddenly, as I take the
proffered muffins and bagels.  "Joshua," I manage,
"you can be impossibly sweet sometimes."

Josh waves off my words.  "Don't get all, you know,
girly on me, Donnatella.  I just thought this was an
occasion worthy of baked goods."  Then he kisses me
soundly.  "And coffee."

I beam at him for a moment, just because he is too
much sometimes.  Just when I'm convinced he's all ego
and cynicism, he does something so perfectly sweet and
thoughtful and I just want to jump him.  "Joshua," I
say, "you may want to lay back for this."

Josh smirks at me, eyebrows raised.  "For what?"

I toss the bag over my shoulder.  "You wanted to know
what else I could do with my mouth, right?" 

Josh groans, I laugh, and we fall to the bed in a
tangle of sheets.  

THE END

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