Sweetest Decline.
by: airebella e. spencer
disclaimer: Sorkin's, not mine. Damn him.
feedback: his_gray_eyes@hotmail.com. go on. it makes me happy.
summary: Skin upon alabaster skin, over and over and over. Josh/Donna. sort of.
notes: yay, betas. smooches to the Karens, Eloise, and the T for help.
***
Their first kiss is awkward and clumsy. They've been standing there, alone, and he is almost scared to touch her face, scared that she might shatter and break. Because he's seen this before, somewhere, because he believes that his touch makes her come apart, and she will cascade down towards him in a thousand of shards of shattered glass.
He is only surprised, then, when her lips taste like cinnamon and her hair feels like silk between his fingers.
She is delicate, he discovers, barely even there, because he almost begins to wonder if this is wrong. She remains motionless, there with him, and he wonders managed to break her the way he said he never would. Then she responds, then he knows that it wasn't all wrong, because she begins to flow into his skin, electric and alive. He can feel her pulse, racing full of adrenaline, and he smiles, because it is genuine.
(All of it.)
Things become different here, because somehow the lines begin to blur and she stops being gentle and starts to starve. Together, they collide into the wall, narrowly missing knobs and books and chairs on their way. He fumbles with himself, with his hands on her and full of her to try and shut the door, but she takes care of it for him. A quick movement of the foot and privacy is theirs. Office gossip is never as harmless as you might think. This they know.
With the boundaries set they lose themselves. They connect, as they have time and time again, but here it is different. The borders are blurred, and they begin to explore what they should already know.
(Skin upon alabaster skin, over and over and over)
They are a battle, of lips and limbs and tongues, and he wonders where, how they've become so amateur at the scent of each other. There is a thirst, he sees, a thirst to understand something they thought they knew, what they both have already known.
But he can't help it, losing himself in the feel of her skin , and he drinks her in. Oh, he does, and he swallows, again, and again.
They'll remember in the morning that it seemed seamless. That her lips were smooth and they were warm, together. It was exquisite (she'll say), that they never stopped moving, coming, trying, and he will remember. With a smile, and their words to remind him.
And the smile will linger on his lips, the memory thinly painted in his eyes as he watches her walk away.
[fin]