nc-17 | sexual content

He gingerly rubbed his head, withdrawing his hand when he felt a bit of wetness on his scalp. The spot of red on the tip of his finger confirmed his suspicion that she had scratched him with her nails when she whacked him. She came back in the room with his sandwich and he made it a point to groan loudly in mock pain.

"What now, you big baby?"

"I'm bleeding."

It was the wrong thing to say, he realized almost instantly. Her mildly irritated expression gave way to one of concern. She sat on the edge of the bed, her hand flying to his chest. When she spoke, he could hear the panic in her voice.

"What? How? Where? Should I call 911?"

He covered her hand with his and lifted the other one to his head. "No, where you hit me."

She pulled away from him so quickly that it almost burned. "Jackass."

"Seriously. See?" He tried to show her, but she got up and left, returning several moments later with a band-aid.

"There," she said, planting the bandage down on his head. "Better now?"

"Ow, Donna, my hair." There was no easy way to do it, so he just ripped it off as quickly as he could. "Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow."

"Eat your lunch," she ordered flatly.

He begrudgingly took a bite, while keeping a wounded pout on his face. "I don't understand why you're not being nice to me. I was almost killed, after all. Shouldn't you be ... coddling me? Babying me? Treating me with kid gloves?"

"Do you want to be treated with kid gloves?"

"Well." He crammed half his sandwich in his mouth, watching as she moved around the room, cleaning up his mess. "It would just be nice if you ... pretended like you actually cared about the fact that I was shot and all."

She turned towards him just long enough to roll her eyes. "Is your bedroom always this messy?"

"Hey, if I had known that I was going to be - "

"Whatever," he barely heard her mutter. She picked dirty laundry up off the floor and flung it into a nearby basket with surprising vehemence. He had been home all of two hours, and already she was pissed at him.

This was going to be a long recovery.

"Is it time for my sponge bath yet?"

That stopped her in her tracks. When she came back to his side, her skin was blanched. "The doctor didn't mention that," she said slowly.

"No, no, he did, when you ... uh, went to ... go get the car."

"Really?" Her skin color was returning to normal. She narrowed her eyes at him. "I guess I'll have to get right on that, then."

"Uh, what?" But she was already out the door. He heard water running in his bathroom and shifted uncomfortably in the bed. She was humming as she brought a large bowl over to his nightstand.

"I, I, I don't even have a sponge," he stammered.

"Washcloth," she chirped. "Tomorrow I'll buy one so we can do this properly."

"Tomorrow? I don't ... uhhhh." His chest suddenly felt very, very tight.

"We should start at the bottom, I think." She yanked down the sheets and reached for the drawstring on his sweatpants. An image of her cleaning his cock, wrapping a washcloth-covered hand around it, working it up and down, over and over, popped into his head. He let out what could only (regrettably) be referred to as a girly scream.

"Stress," he wheezed. "I'm not supposed to be under stress."

She froze, a chagrined look on her face. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"It's ... it's okay."

His breathing slowed as she sat down on the edge of the bed. She played with the washcloth a bit, dipping it in the bowl and wringing it out, then using it to gently rub the exposed skin of his arm.


"Relax. I'm not going to do anything crazy."

She looked up at him then, and that was when he noticed her eyes. Tinged with red, slightly shiny. He felt compelled to reach up, but before he could touch her face, she blinked, causing a tear to race down her cheek. She quickly turned away from him, tossing the cloth back in the bowl, sloshing some water over the side.

"I should get back to the office," she said with what sounded like forced cheer.


"Are you going to be okay? Do you want me to get you anything before I go?" She sniffled and that tightness in his chest returned, for a completely different reason this time.

"I'm ... I'm fine."

"Good. I'll be back later to check on you."

When he heard the faint click of the front door closing, he suddenly felt very, very alone.


He awoke with a start. The blanket felt heavy and oppressing, so he kicked it off, wiping a thin layer of sweat from his forehead. He called out her name twice before he looked at the clock and realized she had to have left already. He stumbled from his bed, rubbing his eyes as he made his way down the hallway to locate the thermostat. He shoved the dial down as far as it would go, sighing in relief as he heard the heat turn off and the air-conditioning start up.

It was then that he noticed that a lamp in his living room was on. Donna was sprawled out on his couch, one leg bent while the other was outstretched, her foot dangling over the armrest. Her skirt was bunched up near her hips. Lying slightly on her side, the soft swell of one breast was exposed where the neckline of her blouse dipped down. He swallowed hard as his gaze drifted over her bare legs, up to her chest, and finally to her face. Her lips were parted, the occasional small moan or gasp escaping them. She seemed to be dreaming, but he couldn't tell if it was a good dream or a nightmare.

He had fantasies that started like this. She'd doze off in his office, one night working late. Her dreams would arouse her, so she'd touch herself. She'd start moaning and writhing in the chair, calling out his name, begging for more. He'd wake her up with a gentle touch, brushing his fingers over her face. She'd jump, hastily pulling her hand out of her pants, stammering out some excuse. He'd grab her wrist, lick her fingers clean, and then he'd lift her up on his desk and fuck her brains out. His dream Donna would whimper and cry out as he made her come.

A whimper from the real Donna brought him back to reality. It was clear to him now that her dream was anything but pleasant.

"Hey," he whispered as he jostled her shoulder. Her eyes flew open, but they closed again once she saw him. She hummed softly as she blindly reached up to touch his face. Without thinking, he turned his head just enough to press a soft kiss to her palm.

"I was just going to lie down for a moment," she mumbled.

"You could have used the bed in the spare room."

"It's a glorified closet." She winced as she sat up. She hadn't noticed the position of her skirt, or indeed noticed that she was wearing one; her legs were spread enough for him to see that her panties were a lovely pale shade of yellow.

"It's still more comfortable than -"

"What are you doing up? You should be in bed."

"I'm not an invalid." He helped her stand. As she fixed her clothing, it gave him just enough of a glimpse for him to confirm that her bra matched her underwear. "In fact, when you're gone, I dance up and down the halls."

"You shouldn't have gotten up."

"I wouldn't have had to get up if you hadn't messed with the thermostat. It's hotter than hell in here."

"I thought it was cold, actually."

Whether it was because of the small peepshow she had inadvertently given him or the fact that he hadn't eaten the dinner she had left, he wasn't sure, but he suddenly felt dizzy. Before he could topple over, she wrapped her arms around his waist.

"You should have asked me."

"I thought you were gone. And I'm fine," he assured her, and that was when he felt her breath on his face. She was so soft and so close, and she didn't pull away. Her lips fluttered against his, so he applied more pressure, swallowing her low moan. Her taste was vaguely familiar, and yet, not at all what he expected. She was holding him in a firm, steady embrace, but he was still a bit faint, so he didn't let his hands wander down her body, seeking out all the spots he had never been able to touch.

"Josh," she gasped when he finally relinquished her mouth.

"That's my name." He explored the warm skin of her neck with his lips.

"I just want to ... oh ... make sure you're okay."

"Never been better." But even as he said it, a wave of dizziness washed over him. "Actually, maybe I should ... uh, sit down."

"You should have eaten your dinner instead of leaving it out for me to clean up."

She guided him to his sofa, but she stepped away before he could pull her down to join him. When she returned with a drink, he swiftly set it on the side table and tugged on her arm so that she landed in his lap. Her protests were pretty much negated by the way she shifted on the couch so that she was straddling his thighs.

"I want you to drink at least half of it."

"I had juice in there?"

"I bought it today. It's good for you. And I think your blood sugar is low, so drink up."

He obliged her, gulping down the lukewarm liquid so quickly that he almost choked. With a small burp, he put back the glass and then put his arms around her.


"I feel all better now," he whispered against her lips. The tension in her body seemed to melt instantly as he kissed her. He swore he could feel her nipples hardening, even through the layers of clothing. Any doubt over her feelings vanished as he felt her grind her hips against his.

The make out session continued until she kissed her way down his neck and rested her cheek on his shoulder.

"We should get you back to bed."

"I'm that irresistible, huh?"

"To sleep." And with that, she stood - a little unsteadily, he noted with pride - and took his hand. He obediently followed her, a little disappointed, but not entirely surprised, when she didn't join him.

"You need to rest," she said as she tucked him in.

"You can rest with me."

She didn't pull away, but she didn't move any closer, either.

"What?" He covered her hands with his, squeezing lightly.

"Was this some ... 'I almost died so now I'll do a bunch of crazy things like kissing my assistant who I don't really have any feelings for just because she's young and silly and here' thing?"

"Did you breathe at all while you were asking that?"


She seemed dismayed by his hesitation, and he couldn't really blame her. He could honestly tell her that he wanted her. He could honestly tell her that he wanted to tuck her body under the sheets, feel her coming around his fingers, against his tongue, around his cock. With things the way they were, it was so easy to pretend that they didn't work in the you-know-where and she wasn't his you-know-what.

"It's okay," she said, her voice flat. "I should go."

"Stay. I ... I don't know what it was, but no, it wasn't a ... thing."

It seemed to placate her. She kissed him softly before she left.


They started spending more time making out than working when she came over. The phone would ring and they would ignore it; when whoever it was inevitably called back, Donna would make up some story about how he had been sleeping. She'd go back to the office for a few hours, and then she'd return to him so they could make out some more.

Unfortunately, that was about as far as they had gone. She kept putting off his attempts because of his health. He had tried to convince her that sex didn't qualify as 'strenuous activity' if she was on top, but she wasn't buying it.

At the moment, though he had managed to get her shirt off, push down her bra. Her nipples were pale pink, tiny little circles atop ivory mounds. She weakly protested when he covered one with his mouth.

"You don't really mean that, do you?"

"Um, oh, yes. Yes. Oh, yes."

"I don't believe you," he said in a singsong voice.


"I promise; I'll stay dressed and I won't take off your pants."

"That doesn't seem fair."


"To you, I mean," she hastened to clarify.

"I'm good," he lied, shifting his position on the bed so she wouldn't feel his erection. "You're so soft."

She giggled as she moved her leg, pressing her thigh flush against his groin. "You're not."

"You're too observant for your own good."

"You're just not very good at hiding things."

"Is that any way to talk to your ... to a man who has your breast in his mouth?"

It was too late; a shadow crossed over her face. "Josh."

"Shh." He kissed her to silence her. He started rubbing her through her pants to make her forget. He switched his mouth from one breast to the other, glancing up at her face as he did so. Her eyelids fluttered. Her lips trembled. She sucked in a long breath and he felt her tense beneath him.

"Josh, I ... I, oh, God."

Screw his promise, he thought. She needed more. He unbuttoned her pants over her shocked gasp and quickly burrowed his hand into her underwear. The sensation of his fingers against her bare folds made her cry out. He heard himself whimper. He penetrated her a few times before moving back to her clit.

"I'm, I'm, I'm going to - "

"I know." He grinned at her before pressing his lips to hers. She arched her back and groaned into his mouth.

The phone rang before she even finished twitching underneath his fingers. She swore under her breath. He just lay his head on her chest.

"Tell them I'm asleep."

She did, managing to keep her voice rather steady in spite of the fact that he kept teasing her breast.

"I need to go back in," she said apologetically.

He traced the outline of one areola with his tongue. "Okay."

Reluctantly, he eased off her. He expected her to get re-dressed but she reached for his sweatpants. He took her hands in his and kissed her fingers.

"I should ..." She extracted her hands and waved them around in the space between them.

"Later." He stole one final caress as he kissed her. "I'm going to hold you to it."


He woke up to the pleasant sensation of a barely-clothed woman crawling into bed with him. She murmured an apology as he wrapped an arm around her.

"I was trying not to wake you."

Instead of responding, he reached over her and clicked on the light. When she rolled onto her back, he pushed down the sheets, humming appreciatively as he took in her underwear.

"You tired?"

"Are you?" she countered.

"No. Sit up."

He expected some level of protest, but she eagerly propped herself up, grabbing onto his neck so she could kiss him hard. It was a difficult task, working the clasp on her bra while her tongue was in his mouth, but he managed. He froze and pulled back, though, when she started to push up his shirt.

"Don't be silly." She quickly yanked it over his head, but she kept her eyes locked on this.

"Skin's still sensitive," he said softly.


They removed the rest of their clothing in silence. He left the bed for a moment to retrieve a box from his dresser, but she took it from his hand when he returned. Before he could question her, she had him flat on his back, her position leaving no doubt about what she was going to do.

He lodged an obligatory protest; it must not have sounded too sincere, as she lifted her head for a moment to roll her eyes at him. He expected her to be gentle, to tease, but she went down on him vigorously. Watching her was too much, so he closed his eyes and lay back, focusing on the feel of her lips, her tongue. He blindly reached for her, slipping his fingers into her hair so he could guide her.

"Donna, I'm ... oh."

"I know." He could hear her smirking. Assured that she wouldn't be caught unaware, he stopped trying to fight it and lifted his head to watch. She coughed slightly as she released him and wiped her mouth on the sheet, leaving him wondering if she had spit him out. Not that it really mattered, he told himself.

He rolled her on to her back, relishing her broad smile.

"I'm going to need a few minutes," he told her as he cupped her breast.

"It's okay; we're even."

"I think I like it better when you owe me."

She muttered something as he kissed his way down her stomach. He took his time, probing her with his fingers for several moments before applying his tongue. Her small sighs of pleasure were familiar to him by now, as was her scent. She touched his head with both hands, playing with his hair as he attended to her. When she came, she arched her back and moaned his name, her arms falling back on to the bed.

Not wanting to let her recover, he crawled over her, snatching a condom from the box on his nightstand. She opened her eyes, a contented smile still gracing her face. When she saw what he was doing, she tried to stop him with a hand on his arm.

"No, Josh."

"Are ... are you too sore?"

"No. I just ... I don't want you to strain yourself."

The worry drained from him, and he grinned at her. "I'm going back to work next week. My doctor says I'm good to do battle with the Republicans; I certainly think I can handle having sex."

"I don't want to risk it. Just ... no. What if your ... heart stops or something?"

He had to resist the urge to laugh. Resting on his side next to her, he took her hand and pressed it to his chest. "I'm fine. Anyway, I didn't die before."

"That was different. You didn't have to ... worry about making it last. Making it good for me."

"What makes you think I was going to worry about that at all?"

She ignored him. "I don't want you straining or -"

"How many of your previous lovers have you killed?"

"None of my previous lovers had been ... had ..."

He saw tears welling up in her eyes. Centering himself over her, he lightly brushed her lips with his. He angled his hips so his erection pressed against her hip.

"It would just be a shame to waste this," he whispered. He shifted again, positioning himself at her entrance. When she didn't protest, he eased into her, loving the way she responded. She was warm and tight, fitting perfectly around him. Her hand slipped between them, moving to the spot just above where they were joined, but he pushed it away, determined to prolong this.

He made love to her with long, slow strokes, watching her eyelids twitch, her lips moving noiselessly. Only when she seemed to grow restless did he allow her to touch herself. Her fingers brushed his cock as she rubbed her clit, and he was thankful that she brought herself to the brink quickly.

After ditching the condom, he pulled her into his arms. She rested her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest, carefully avoiding his scar.

"What is going to happen next week?"


"You know what I mean."

The lovely post-coital haze was replaced with a feeling of unease. "I guess ... we're probably going to ... have to ... I don't think we can tell anyone."

"So we're still going to ... do this?"

"Well. Yeah. Did you think we'd just return to work and -?"

"I don't know what I thought. I ... you want to keep this secret?"

"I don't think we have a choice."

She tilted her head to look at him. "You think that's wise? If ... if anyone ..."

"I suppose I'll have to talk to Leo."

"Only if you want to." She still looked unsure, and it made him feel a bit ill. She seemed to actually be considering the fact that he had been using her, as if fucking her was just another part of his physical therapy.

"I want you," he said hoarsely. She had her lips against his before he could say more.


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