doomed
nc-17 | sexual content
She sneaks into the building, going out of her way to avoid contact with anybody. She knows she can't keep this up all day, but she's tempted to try. It's as if she's sixteen all over again, feigning the flu so she could skip school, fearful that everyone would know. She heated up the thermometer with a light bulb because it was safer than telling her mother about her nightmare, where Mr. Beckett made her stand up and announced to the class, "Miss Donnatella Moss here lost her virginity last night! Isn't that special?"
It's silly, because she's older and wiser now, and she knows nobody can determine what she was doing last night just by looking at her. There's nothing in her walk that tells anyone how he had his hand in her pants as soon as they stumbled in the door. The way she pours her coffee doesn't betray how she came apart in his arms, shuddering and crying out and gasping for air as he stood behind her and made quick little circles on her clit. Her greeting won't clue anyone in to how he fucked her on her dining room table. Her gaze won't reveal how he took her to the bedroom and made love to her there.
Still. CJ had nothing on Mr. Beckett. And CJ could do a lot worse than humiliate her in front of her US Lit class.
Josh isn't in when she gets there, so she hides out in the office. She hears Toby in the bullpen, asking someone if she's around, but she says nothing. Maybe she didn't spend enough time in the shower. Maybe Toby would be able to smell him on her. Maybe there's some faint mark on her neck, her arms, that wasn't apparent to her this morning, when she was getting dressed.
Eventually, though, she has to retreat from the safety of his office. She's at her station when he comes in. She keeps her back rigid, avoiding his eyes - avoiding looking at him altogether - for fear of her body committing treason. Even when he sits down on the corner of desk, she doesn't look up from the file she's pretending to read.
Then he says her name and brushes his fingers against her arm, ever so lightly. When she glances up at him, her worst fears are confirmed. His grin tells the story of how she kissed him in the lobby. The glint in his eyes reveals how she writhed underneath him. His posture betrays the fact that he made her come again and again. Anybody who knew him and looked at him would be able to tell that he got lucky last night.
"I'm disappointed. Pants? I was hoping for a nice, short skirt."
His words make her flush. "Josh."
"The kind I could hike up around your waist -"
"Josh."
"I could take you while you're answering my phone."
It seems like a good idea to drag him into the office, so she can chastise him for his behavior, but once the door is closed, he's kissing her. Warm, wet, deep, sloppy, and all she can think about is how her makeup's going to be smeared. At least, until he starts groping her breast.
"The thing you're going to learn about me, Donna," he whispers into her ear, "is that I like a little morning quickie."
She bites back a moan as he gently twists an erect nipple. "There wasn't time."
"That's why they call it a quickie."
He grinds his hips into hers, and she can see it all happening. He's going to push aside their clothing and take her right here. Mere minutes before senior staff, and he wants to fuck her against his office door.
"We can't," she rasps. "You have ... you have -"
"You left so quickly."
"I had to shower and change."
"You could have showered at my place."
"Oh, God, Josh." She stops him before his hands do any more damage. "Senior. Staff. Now."
He makes a sound that's not unlike the whimper he made last night when she went down on him. But he relents, straightening his tie and running a hand through his hair. She wipes her lipstick off his mouth.
"Lunch?"
"In your dreams. And please wash your hands before you go to the meeting."
He somehow manages to smirk and roll his eyes at the same time. She watches him as he struts - yes, that's definitely strutting - down the hall. She gives CJ four hours, tops.
They're doomed.
(fin.)