Well. Ronna and Cindy. Lou and Otto. Edie and Lester. He hadn't noticed any of it, he mused, his arms draped over the lint-covered couch by the bar. The smell of Lou's expensive scotch wafted through the air from the discarded glasses perched on the table. It was inching towards 11pm and everyone on his staff was making use of their last campaign hotel room for sex, it seemed.

Everyone except the blonde woman staring at him with sparkling eyes from across the table. Everyone except Donna.

He looked away, searching for a distraction, trying to bide some time. She wouldn't stop looking at him, a smile inching across her face. She was impervious; as she'd once told him, back when she was younger... When she was his young, naive assistant with her heart forever on her sleeve.

The mirror in the bar caught his attention for an instant, because there was a man in it with a crumpled shirt, a skewed brown tie and a hairline that looked like a beach at low tide. He raised his eyebrows and watched at least half a dozen lines appear across his forehead. He looked like hell. Ronna's words rang in his ears, the words she'd uttered before sashaying into the arms of her girlfriend:

'You might have had an easier year of it, if you had come on board.'

He looked back at Donna, Donna of the glossy lips, the hooded eyes, the chest that rose and fell and she leaned leisurely into the couch. Donna whose lips his had crashed down on just 4 days ago, who leapt forward into him with gentle enthusiasm, bending with compliance under his embrace. 8 years with Donna as his naive assistant, friend, confidant, oddball Wisconsinite had led to nothing but a bitter wanting, but now here she was: powerful, competent and sexy as hell.

He had to bite the bullet.

"Did you ever... 'come on board'?" He quoted dryly, trying not to look eager or curious.

She smiled reflexively, a little hesitantly, as she sank into his gaze.

"No..."

She sounded innocent, silken, and irresistible. His heart started to pound with the affirmation of what he'd already hoped.

"...Never had a campaign fling?"

He was just able to utter the words, his face stone-like with the effort. This was erring towards the line, the invisible line that had always separated the two of them... until recently.

She was shaking her head, her eyes seeming to darken with something. "No," she repeated, no longer smiling. She looked down and drew a breath, and then unfolded her long, slim legs and got up, her black pencil skirt falling around her shapely thighs. She walked – somewhere between a glide and a saunter, a walk she'd never treated him to before – around the table and, dropping her cardigan with a soft thud, sank into the couch beside him, artfully crossing her legs again.

He would not – could not- move. The veneer of false casualness was starting to show, and he could feel the sexual tension charging the air. The atmosphere encasing them was perhaps affected by climate change, because it was getting hot.

He looked at her sideways, leaning a little closer.

"Do you want another drink?" He said, smirking a little. She faced him, her green eyes locking with his in the most serious manner, glossed lips parting. "No," she breathed it out with certainty, and rose again, walking away from him, like all the times she'd walked out of his office, a skirt and sweater and thin blonde hair.

But it was different this time, he mused, taking one last swig of the scotch. He was about to have sex with Donnatella Moss.

He crossed the lobby and jogged a little to keep up with her. How could her legs move so fast in those damn heels? He reached her and his hand grazed the small of her back... perhaps a little too quickly, he mentally repented, and released her. He was standing an inch behind her, breathing in her hair, and he moved towards her left shoulder as she turned her head with a secretive smile.

His heart was racing. She leaned forward to press the button for the lift and he was entranced by the grace of her movements, wanted to seize her, wanted her under him and over him and leaning just like that in front of him too.

A man strode up next to them, belly busting through his shirt, reeking a little of vodka, his comb-over parting to show the sheen of his skull. Josh cursed under his breath, and Donna shifted a little. He couldn't tell what she was thinking, he could only look at her covertly and hope she would give him some sign that all of this was normal, or desired, or satisfactory. The doors slowly opened, and a Korean couple shuffled out with suitcases, maybe catching a flight tonight.

Donna moved inside, and backed herself against the wall. He walked dumbly behind her and almost into her, before jumping aside and trying to posture casually next to her. He remembered he looked like hell and ran his hands through his curls, smoothing his tie, but could do nothing for the rumpled shirtsleeves. She looked at him a little, and the elevator rocked to a halt on three. Vodka Joe barged out and Josh saw, with rising spirits, that no one else was coming on.

He turned into her immediately, hands hovering near her waist, face pointed at her cheek and she spun towards him too – after a moment – one of those big Donna smiles spreading across her face. Her hands landed on his shoulders and his pulled her waist closer ...

The elevator ground to a halt on level 4 and she dug her fingers into his collarbones a little in surprise, their lips an inch away. His face fell and he thought – screw it, I'm kissing her anyway – but she turned away modestly as a hotel cleaner came on, blushing and holding his mop apologetically.

She had realised his lips nipping at her hair and she blushed too. "Sorry," she whispered, and his hands fell into a resigned clasp. They got off at level 5. Santos had booked out basically the entire floor so caution was advised here. She slowed her pace.

"So..." she said and immediately his consciousness screamed DON'T SAY GOODNIGHT YET DONNATELLA MOSS I AM NOT DONE WITH YOU but she continued in a low voice:

"Your place or mine?"

He had to smile, and he grabbed her hand, throwing caution to the wind, and started jogging towards room 577. She laughed behind him.

They reached the door and OH GOD what a time to be fumbling for the key. But eventually they burst in, smiling and breathing out with relief and facing each other. And then not smiling anymore because it was time to kiss for the second time in his hotel room and he wanted it to be damn good and the lights never got turned on but there was a streetlamp's glow coming from the open window as he reached for her.

His hands were warm on her waist and his mouth was firm and firmly open – just as she remembered it from the night the polls had come in. Her hands went over those shoulders (her secret weakness) and up the back of his neck, into his hair. The scotch that was still fresh on his tongue flooded her mouth and she thrust a little to maintain their contact, stomach on stomach, crotch on crotch and she couldn't help another little buck towards him as his hands slid down to her buttocks. She mentally cursed herself for not working out and being all soft weak flesh rather than toned and tanned but she counteracted that Josh probably liked being the strong one.

He grunted a little as he kneaded her, his belt buckle cutting into her lower stomach. Ow, she thought and stepped back with what was supposed to be a parting kiss (in order to undo said buckle) but Josh stepped with her, arms wrapping around her stomach and shielding the back of her head as he pushed her into the door.

That was kind of thoughtful and sexy, said her rational inner voice. Her irrational inner voice was just squealing YOU'RE ABOUT TO HAVE SEX WITH JOSH LYMAN and for the sake of her maturity she tried to keep that at bay.

His arms squeezed her against the plywood and seemed to revel in her tiny waist as his mouth went to work trailing kisses messily across her jaw. His hand released her hair and she leant her head forward to give him better access to her neck, sliding an arm around his back.

There was a moment's pause as he clumsily brushed aside her stray hairs and then sank into her ultra-sensitive skin there, planting alternatively light and demanding kisses along her neck.

Uh oh, she thought suddenly, she couldn't have a hickey for the election tomorrow.

"Josh," she said softly, her breathing somewhat constricted by the pleasurable way his mouth was working.

"Mmph," he replied, lips trailing around the edge of her sweater. She sighed and then gasped as his hand working under the hem of said sweater, brushing her stomach and reaching up towards her breasts. He pulled back from her neck and with a sly pause she knew meant 'I'm going to touch your boobs now Donna' - then he devoured her mouth so distractingly she barely noticed his fingers sliding over her white silken bra, searching for an entry point to her nipple.

Okay, they were way too clothed for the feelings coursing through her panties right now.

She pushed away and held his cheek gently.

"Josh."

"... Yeah, Donna." His face in the grey light expressing a little confusion at being interrupted.

She smiled with anticipation.

"Do you have a condom?"

He froze for a second and then grinned, untangling his hand from her bra and dashing to the nightstand. He switched on the light and she squinted, trying to smooth her hair and sweater down before he turned around.

She was quite pleased with herself for asking the question, and hoped Josh understood that she was hinting at how ready she was for him. Foreplay could wait for the next time, and then she would be demanding... but tonight she knew she had waited long enough.

He turned to face her after fishing a condom from his wallet, and then she saw him realise the light was on. He took a deep breath, frozen awkwardly with the condom between his fingers. She didn't want to the mood to die. She wanted this. She wanted him. She kicked off her stilettos and pulled off her sweater, letting it drop to the floor, watching his jaw do the same. Silently she was glad she picked the designer lingerie for luck on Election Eve.

With a smile she walked the three steps to him and wordlessly he put the condom back on the nightstand. She knew he was going to grab at her again, but she wanted to seize some of the control, so she grabbed at his belt buckle and yanked it open, giving him an encouraging wet smooch. She unzipped his fly with a wicked smile, her fingers trailing over the cotton pants underneath. He groaned, and she knew his erection was hardening.

He leant into her mouth again and slid one hand along her bare back, causing her to shiver, and he yanked his trousers down to crumple at his feet, pulling her hips against his erection and then working his hand up to join the other at the clasp of her bra.

Deftly, he sprung it open and her breasts sprang loose.

Donna was usually shy about her body, and rarely was in a position such as this. Barefoot and bare-breasted, a pencil skirt and ever-moistening panties still in place, standing in front of Joshua Lyman with his pants at his feet. He was leaning down to take off his shoes and pants and couldn't stop staring at her creamy skin. As he fumbled, she wriggled out of her skirt, staring equally at the bulge in his boxers, and wanting to rip his crumpled blue shirt off his body.

She was grabbing at the shirt, left standing in cream panties and he was fumbling with his last remaining loafer and then he came back up, kissing her chest and his hands folding around her breasts and OH YES she loved the way he knew how to touch them and she was fumbling with his buttons and it was all like the way she had fantasized so many times before as he roughly kneaded her breasts and pinched her nipples so that she moaned and she barely had half of the buttons undone when he rolled her on to the bed.

Oh FUCK, he thought, one hand regretfully releasing a perfect breast as he lifted himself above her. Yes, he was above Donna Moss and she was staring at him lustfully, her long legs sprawled across the duvet, a flat stomach emerging from white lacy panties, and two incredible breasts rising from her chest. He'd always known she would be beautiful undressed, those two mounds often jutting distractingly through her work attire, but this was something else. The lamplight gave a golden cast to her skin. He wanted to look at her forever.

She reached up with graceful fingers and undid his buttons and he shrugged the shirt off, and her hands smoothed their way across his chest, scars and all. He leant across to reach for a pillow, and she pecked just shy of his nipple affectionately. As she rearranged herself comfortably on the pillow, her groin twitched against his leg.

That reminded him.

With a slow and enthusiastic kiss on the lips, his fingers trailed down to her panties and slipped under the elastic edge burying themselves in her hair and finding the slippery opening beneath. Likewise, she reached for his member through his boxers and worked it so that it fit obediently into her hand.

It was the Cold War suddenly; both of them threatening to apply their hands to the places they had claimed. They kissed aggressively, on the brink of action, but Donna moved first, yanking his pants down so that his erection emerged, quivering above her belly.

He hoped that was a gasp.

Not to be outdone, he squirmed down the bed, pulling her panties down her thighs with him, trying belatedly not to rip the fabric. He carefully pulled them off her feet, knowing that his slowness could drive her crazy, and carefully kissed his way back up to the exposed mound between her legs.

He sank his mouth and chin into the folds. Her legs immediately parted ways to give him better access. He tasted her, her wetness all over him, his tongue making explorative ventures towards her clitoris. At first she seemed tense, like maybe she wanted him to come back up, until he found her clit and she emitted a little mewing cry. He went to work with gusto, sucking and licking and squeezing with his mouth and his hand snaked between her folds to tease at her opening.

He took a breath to look up at her, her hand on a breast rolling it roughly, and he noted that she liked that. Back he dove, and pushed a finger into her, thrumming it lightly against her walls.

"More!" she gasped out helplessly.

He smiled and thrust a second finger in, knowing that she was slipping into the throes of pleasure and licking consistently at her clitoris until her legs began to tremble.

"Oh!" She yelled out. He concentrated hard on her clit, never ceasing his movement.

"Ohhhh!" She yelled again and her vagina contracted around his fingers, pulsing with wet warmth.

He withdrew gently and she smiled at him, eyes half closed. He sucked on his fingers, revelling in the new taste of her cum, and her eyes flashed with lust. She pulled him into her embrace, kissing him vigorously, tasting herself. She wanted every last drop, he thought smugly, and she reached down to his penis and reinvigorated the area, flesh on flesh.

Just as the area was humming towards an unbearable peak, she whispered against his jaw:

"I want you so bad."

He didn't usually talk in bed. His job was to talk, to talk to Leo and the President, to persuade The Hill, to encourage the Congressman. But hearing Donnatella Moss say those words was in no way unwelcome.

He put the condom on carefully. She watched him intensely.

"Donna," he said, breaking the silence himself. "Is everything okay?"

She met his eyes and smiled with sweet seduction.

"Yeah."

"Okay then," he smiled back, releasing his penis and kissing her softly.

She deepened the kiss, drawing her legs around his back, and he brushed his member against her lips, wet and warm. One hand was buried in her hair, another hand trailed through her folds, feeling for her opening. When he began to slide himself in, he kissed her mouth firmly and she gripped his neck.

He filled her almost up, and she grabbed his buttocks and pulled him to his hilt. They both groaned, being united like this for the first time. He drew back and steadied his arms above her, and then began to draw in and out of her, feeling her soft walls and dewy texture. He began to pump harder and she clutched at him, arching her back, and he could barely hold himself together.

He paused and rolled her on top of him, and seeing her mounted there, her hair strewn over the tips of her breasts, and watching her beautiful face as her hips rolled and rode him was not a sight he'd want to let go of ever again.