content

nc-17 | sexual content

She looked comfortable on his bed. She looked like she belonged on his bed, and he couldn't imagine ever sleeping in it without her. The navy blue sheets made her hair seem like spun gold, made her skin seem even paler, almost ashen. There were dark circles under her eyes, and even in sleep, her mouth was screwed up in a worried frown. He hadn't seen this before, and now he was concerned. She seemed fine; she was always fine.

He dried off his hair with towel, tossing it aside as he sat down next to her. With the lightest of touches, he brushed his fingers over her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open, confusion slowly fading as she realized where she was.

"Mm, sorry," she mumbled as she sat up. "I was just going to lay down for a minute."

"It's fine. You okay?"

"Yeah," she replied, automatically. She smiled at him, and now he could recognize her attempt to look normal, to disguise the exhaustion, the stress.

"No, you're not."

"I'm just tired," she amended.

"That's not it." She bit her lip and avoided his gaze. "Your new job?"

"It's fine," she said. Too quickly. With a forced smile.

"Why do you think you can fool me?" Concern gave way to anger, fear. "Is he hurting you? Harassing you?"

"No. It's nothing like that."

"I'll kill him." He stood up, fists clenched, ready to go down there right now and strangle the bastard.

"Josh, no. It's nothing like that. Really."

"Is he making you get coffee?"

A hint of a smile. "He just ... doesn't treat me like you do. Did."

"I should hope not," he muttered.

"I'm going to give my notice on Friday," she said suddenly. His shoulders slumped.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. I got you the interview. You wouldn't even have needed a new job if I hadn't ..."

She took his hand, pulling him back onto the bed. Resting her head on his shoulder, she squeezed his arm. "First of all, I kissed you first. Stop trying to re-write history."

"I was going to get to it."

"Uh-huh. Secondly, it's just a job. I can get another one. Thirdly, I would have grown out of my old job eventually, even if we hadn't done this. And finally, how about we forget about dinner and stay in tonight?"

"I thought you wanted to ... ohhh." Her hand snuck into his sweatpants, wrapping around his length.

"We can order pizza. Or Chinese. Something. There's a new Thai place down the street. CJ says it's pretty good. I haven't tried it, but -"

"Donna?"

"Yeah?"

"Stop talking." He gently pushed her back, emphasizing his point with a soft kiss. Clothing was shed, and he caressed her bare skin. It had been less than a month, but every inch of her body was familiar, memorized, cherished. He lavished attention on her breasts as he slipped two fingers into her folds. With every touch, he tried to assuage his guilt over her impending unemployment. He had been convinced that Bushell would appreciate her, that her new job would be a step up from where she was. He had tried to do the right thing, but had failed.

Spectacular sex wasn't going to make up for that, but it couldn't hurt.

He paid careful attention to the noises she was making, correcting his actions accordingly. A gasp meant that spot was too sensitive, or he was stroking her too forcefully. A moan meant he should stay where he was. A groan meant she was frustrated. A whimper meant she was close. And when she began to urgently chant his name, as she was now that his fingers were circling her clit, he knew it wouldn't be long. Sure enough, she squeezed her eyes shut just as her body began to shake. He watched, as fascinated as he was the first time, as she seemed to collapse within herself. All her muscles drew taut, and then went limp as he felt her release.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again. With a strength that surprised him, she shoved him onto his back. She crawled on top of him, chastising him for still being clothed.

"And it's not your fault," she added in a husky voice as she tugged down his pants.

"Donna."

"Shhh." He couldn't help but comply when she gripped his growing erection. For all his verbal skills, once she began touching him, his IQ sunk like a stone. Her soft hands stroked him slowly, until he was almost painfully hard. He reached out and found her hips, urging her into position, over him. With a wicked smile on her face, she lowered her body onto him, letting him guide himself into her.

She was always hot, wet, and unbearably tight. Every time, he worried that he wouldn't be able to hold out long enough for her. This was no exception. Her movements were frantic; she rose up, letting a few inches of his length slide from her, slammed her body back down, and then repeated her actions. He fought to meet her thrusts, but couldn't find her rhythm, so he just lay there. His hands roamed over her legs, her ass, her breasts. The headboard banged into the wall, and he hoped his neighbors weren't home.

She startled him by grabbing his hands, planting them on her hips. She went to work on her clit, fingers moving urgently, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he felt her second orgasm begin. It was his turn to go limp, his head falling back on the pillow, his arms falling uselessly to his sides. She didn't separate their bodies, choosing to lay down on top of him, her head next to his.

"You're happy, though, right?" he asked after a moment. "I mean, maybe not with this job, but you don't regret that we -"

"No, Josh, I don't regret us." He wasn't sure if her tone meant she was exasperated or simply still recovering, so he let it go.

"Chinese?"

"I'd like to try the new place, actually."

"Do they deliver?"

"Mmmhmm. CJ gave me a menu." She reluctantly got up, her face mirroring his at the sudden sense of loss that accompanied their separation. She left the room, returning with a small, laminated sheet of paper. He wrapped an arm around her as she curled up next to him, and they both studied it in silence. Eventually, he felt her soft lips against his cheek.

"Of course I'm happy," she whispered.

(fin.)