NOTE TO READERS: This section contains non-graphic (R-rated) depiction of consensual
sex between two adults. If this is not your cup of tea, then please skip to Part Four .
***
Land speed records were not set between the White House and Donna Moss'
apartment, but two cars came very, very close.
Josh never let her tail lights out of his sight. Perhaps he feared that she
would change her mind, or that she had moved again and he wouldn't know where to
find her. He wasn't sure. But some force inside of him insisted that he'd be
safe as long as he stayed with her.
He liked a metaphor as much as Sam did.
Donna's apartment building had many features he liked, he thought as he pulled
haphazardly into the parking space behind her. There was parking, right by the
door. And no roommate, meaning that there were no roomate's cats. And Donna had
a bed that Josh's ex-wife hadn't slept in.
Very good. Very good.
He loped up to her and grabbed her hand again, holding it tightly as she opened
the outer door to the building. Letting go long enough for her to find her key
and put it in the lock was agonizing. He wanted to touch her, wanted to ground
himself, lose himself in her. If he'd had super glue with him, he would have
bonded them together like broken halves of something precious.
But she was something precious, wasn't she? Skin like the finest porcelain, hair
like spun gold; Josh's brain sifted through all the hyperbole of a man
desperately, enthusiastically in love.
The moment the door closed behind him, Josh pressed Donna up against it with the
length of his body, his hands on either side of her head. He leaned in for a
kiss, and she met him halfway. Her fingers cradled the back of his head, pulling
him closer, closer, closer, and this time the kiss deepened enough for him to
explore the contours of her mouth. To count her straight white teeth. To taste
the wine on her tongue.
He groaned, and he felt the corners of her mouth pull up in a smile. Her hands
went to his chest, pulling up his sweater, ooh, no more sweater, teasing fingers
right there, lower than right there, heading south, oh, my God, heading...
Oh.
"Josh?"
Whoa, come back, come back. He blinked until his vision focused, and what he saw
was almost his undoing.
Donna, slipping out from his embrace, pulling her sweater over her head.
Smoothing down her hair and looking at him with smoky blue eyes, smiling at him
with red lips just a little swollen from kissing. All that sweet, soft skin.
"Yeah?" He was barely able to get the syllable out past the sudden inability to
take in oxygen.
She grabbed him by the belt loops and yanked him forward. He lurched a little,
landing in her arms as she tipped her head back for more kisses, and more
kisses, and he was going to lose it big-time if she didn't stop the thing with
her hips.
He had to move away.
Sometime...pretty soon.
Oh. God. Yeah.
With a force of will he didn't realize existed, he stepped back and inclined his
head toward the bedroom. He knew, with the small part of his brain that gave a
damn about such things, that he probably looked like an idiot.
Big deal, in the long run, when she put her hands on his chest and pushed him
backwards, never moving her mouth from his until the backs of his knees
connected with her bed. He tumbled onto his back, a move not destined to win him
points for finesse, and made very embarrassing sounds as he wriggled out of his
pants. Donna slipped out of her clothes with more refinement and covered his
body with hers.
He was lying underneath Donna, who was naked, and who wanted him. He could die a
happy man.
But first - he had things to do.
Sweet things, things that made her grip his shoulders and arch her back, things
that had her making sounds he'd only dreamed could exist. Things that left them
both breathless, aching, demanding. Here. More. Again.
He mourned for the body he'd had when they first met, his thirty-seven year old
body, lean and athletic. Without the holes and the scars. Without the pain that
came more and more often. But he'd wasted that body, wasted the years, and
now...
...too fast, going to be over too fast, please, please, just another minute
buried in her with those incredibly long legs wrapped around him, her breath
hot in his ear. Now, she breathed, and Yes, and I love you, Joshua, and he was
vanquished.
He might have cried out her name. He couldn't hear it above the singing in his
body, the chorus from every nerve fiber. All he knew was that her warm hands
were on his back, smoothing the bunched muscles, and that her hair was soft
beneath his cheek.
If he had to force air into his lungs, then at least it was Donna-scented, was
his first linear thought. He shuddered when he left her body, and she whimpered
a little, reaching for the blanket and pulling it up over them like a shelter.
They were nose-to-nose on the pillow, still breathing hard as their bodies
cooled and their higher brain functions returned. Josh turned over on his back -
exertion brought an old, familiar pain in his chest that would only wane if he
took the pressure off of it, and he had definitely exerted himself - and felt
Donna settle down with her head over his heart.
They were quiet. Meditative. Astonished. Josh ran his fingers through Donna's
hair, savoring each strand. Beautiful, he might have said aloud, must have,
because she smiled and pressed her lips against his chest and said he was
beautiful, too.
***
Part Four
sex between two adults. If this is not your cup of tea, then please skip to Part Four .
***
Land speed records were not set between the White House and Donna Moss'
apartment, but two cars came very, very close.
Josh never let her tail lights out of his sight. Perhaps he feared that she
would change her mind, or that she had moved again and he wouldn't know where to
find her. He wasn't sure. But some force inside of him insisted that he'd be
safe as long as he stayed with her.
He liked a metaphor as much as Sam did.
Donna's apartment building had many features he liked, he thought as he pulled
haphazardly into the parking space behind her. There was parking, right by the
door. And no roommate, meaning that there were no roomate's cats. And Donna had
a bed that Josh's ex-wife hadn't slept in.
Very good. Very good.
He loped up to her and grabbed her hand again, holding it tightly as she opened
the outer door to the building. Letting go long enough for her to find her key
and put it in the lock was agonizing. He wanted to touch her, wanted to ground
himself, lose himself in her. If he'd had super glue with him, he would have
bonded them together like broken halves of something precious.
But she was something precious, wasn't she? Skin like the finest porcelain, hair
like spun gold; Josh's brain sifted through all the hyperbole of a man
desperately, enthusiastically in love.
The moment the door closed behind him, Josh pressed Donna up against it with the
length of his body, his hands on either side of her head. He leaned in for a
kiss, and she met him halfway. Her fingers cradled the back of his head, pulling
him closer, closer, closer, and this time the kiss deepened enough for him to
explore the contours of her mouth. To count her straight white teeth. To taste
the wine on her tongue.
He groaned, and he felt the corners of her mouth pull up in a smile. Her hands
went to his chest, pulling up his sweater, ooh, no more sweater, teasing fingers
right there, lower than right there, heading south, oh, my God, heading...
Oh.
"Josh?"
Whoa, come back, come back. He blinked until his vision focused, and what he saw
was almost his undoing.
Donna, slipping out from his embrace, pulling her sweater over her head.
Smoothing down her hair and looking at him with smoky blue eyes, smiling at him
with red lips just a little swollen from kissing. All that sweet, soft skin.
"Yeah?" He was barely able to get the syllable out past the sudden inability to
take in oxygen.
She grabbed him by the belt loops and yanked him forward. He lurched a little,
landing in her arms as she tipped her head back for more kisses, and more
kisses, and he was going to lose it big-time if she didn't stop the thing with
her hips.
He had to move away.
Sometime...pretty soon.
Oh. God. Yeah.
With a force of will he didn't realize existed, he stepped back and inclined his
head toward the bedroom. He knew, with the small part of his brain that gave a
damn about such things, that he probably looked like an idiot.
Big deal, in the long run, when she put her hands on his chest and pushed him
backwards, never moving her mouth from his until the backs of his knees
connected with her bed. He tumbled onto his back, a move not destined to win him
points for finesse, and made very embarrassing sounds as he wriggled out of his
pants. Donna slipped out of her clothes with more refinement and covered his
body with hers.
He was lying underneath Donna, who was naked, and who wanted him. He could die a
happy man.
But first - he had things to do.
Sweet things, things that made her grip his shoulders and arch her back, things
that had her making sounds he'd only dreamed could exist. Things that left them
both breathless, aching, demanding. Here. More. Again.
He mourned for the body he'd had when they first met, his thirty-seven year old
body, lean and athletic. Without the holes and the scars. Without the pain that
came more and more often. But he'd wasted that body, wasted the years, and
now...
...too fast, going to be over too fast, please, please, just another minute
buried in her with those incredibly long legs wrapped around him, her breath
hot in his ear. Now, she breathed, and Yes, and I love you, Joshua, and he was
vanquished.
He might have cried out her name. He couldn't hear it above the singing in his
body, the chorus from every nerve fiber. All he knew was that her warm hands
were on his back, smoothing the bunched muscles, and that her hair was soft
beneath his cheek.
If he had to force air into his lungs, then at least it was Donna-scented, was
his first linear thought. He shuddered when he left her body, and she whimpered
a little, reaching for the blanket and pulling it up over them like a shelter.
They were nose-to-nose on the pillow, still breathing hard as their bodies
cooled and their higher brain functions returned. Josh turned over on his back -
exertion brought an old, familiar pain in his chest that would only wane if he
took the pressure off of it, and he had definitely exerted himself - and felt
Donna settle down with her head over his heart.
They were quiet. Meditative. Astonished. Josh ran his fingers through Donna's
hair, savoring each strand. Beautiful, he might have said aloud, must have,
because she smiled and pressed her lips against his chest and said he was
beautiful, too.
***
Part Four