Josh was working in bed again.

Clad only in boxers, lounging on the bed, looking quite delectable, but doing actual work work, not, you know, working to give Donna her third orgasm of the night or something, which was really the only type of work that should be allowed in bed as far as she was concerned.

After all, she'd had a fairly rough day in the west wing herself, and if at the end of it she just wanted to go home and make sweet sweaty love to her man, wasn't she entitled?

Seriously. It wasn't as if he wouldn't enjoy it, too.

Donna rooted through her lingerie drawer, hoping that would catch his attention, but he remained focused on whatever briefing he was reading instead of Donna's dilemma over pale blue satin or black lace.

Black lace, then.

She sauntered over to the bathroom, glancing back once to see if he was admiring the sway of her hips. Nope.

Really, something needed to be done.

In the bathroom she changed into the stretchy black lace teddy and even put on the matching thong, which was uncomfortable (and too tiny to adequately sew her name into the back) but sure to attract attention. She checked herself in the mirror, tried to poof up her hair a little, but eventually resigned herself to nature. She looked pretty good regardless, her nipples faintly showing through the lace, her skin creamy white against the black. Not bad. I'd have sex with me.

Wait. Is that weird?

Focus, Donnatella. She walked over to the doorway of their bedroom. "Josh," she purred. At least, she hoped it sounded vaguely cat-like.

"Yeah." He didn't even look up.

She sighed, walked over to the bed, stood at the foot of it. "Josh," she repeated.

"Yeah," he said again, but this time he did look up at her. "Whoa," he said.

"Indeed."

"It's not some kind of anniversary, is it?" he asked, eyebrows high up on his forehead.

"No, Josh, it's not an anniversary of any kind," she said. "What are you reading?"

He ducked his head sheepishly. "Briefing on troop movements in Kazakhstan," he said. "You know I have to work twice as hard on this foreign policy stuff."

"You're better at it than you think," she said.

"That's reassuring, since I couldn't possibly be worse."

"Why don't we talk all about it over breakfast," Donna cooed. Or as close as she got to cooing. She pulled the papers from his grasp and placed them neatly on the bureau, noting disapprovingly that he didn't bring home a manila folder to contain it all. She really needed to set up a better in-home filing system.

Focus.

"Donna --"

His protest was only half-hearted, and they both knew it. "Breakfast," she said firmly. For good measure she gave him a solid view of her thong-clad behind.

He gulped. "Yes ma'am."

She got up on the bed, straddled his waist. He ran his hands over her hips and looked up at her with that dopey grin he displayed whenever he knew he was about to get some. He really was lucky she found that endearing.

She bent her head down to his for a kiss, cupping his face in her hands, rubbing her fingers over stubble, and felt a sudden pang. He worked so hard -- they both did -- and was often so tired. Maybe this was a mistake.

"Are you sure this is all right?" she blurted.

He blinked at her. "Are you kidding me?"

"I don't want you to be unprepared --"

He cut her off with a kiss. His hands reached up under her teddy, smoothed over the skin of her ass. "Believe me when I tell you there's nothing I'd rather be doing right now," he rasped against her lips.

She smiled. "Okay. I'll do my best to make it worth your while."

"I'm looking forward to that."

They grinned at each other, then kissed some more, hands searching, breathing quickening. Josh tugged at her teddy and pulled it up over her head, leaving her only in the thong, and Donna wondered, not for the first time, why she even bothered with nice things in the first place. But when he took her nipple into his mouth, all internal complaint evaporated.

She let him suckle there for a long moment, her eyes closed, enjoying the sensation, the sounds of his mouth opening and closing over her breast. But then she opened her eyes and pulled away from him, pushed him onto his back, and proceeded to return the favor.

His breath released in a slow hiss when her lips latched on to his left nipple. She took the small nub between her teeth and nibbled gently, then swirled her tongue around the pinkish flesh. Josh reached down to cup her breast, squeezing it lightly in time with the movements of her tongue.

Donna pulled away from him, swept her mouth down the center of his chest, the tang of salt on her tongue. His breath hitched when she pulled off his boxers; a moan escaped when she grasped his now-erect cock in her hand.

Donna ran her tongue up and down his shaft, then circled the head, lapping at it, placing soft kisses around the ridge, enjoying the taste of him, the feel of his hard, velvety flesh yielding beneath her. Then, another moan from Josh when she took him completely in her mouth, running her tongue against the underside of his shaft, pulling up and sucking softly, then sinking down again.

"God, Donna," he muttered, and she felt his hand smooth her hair, push it away from her face so he could see her better. She cast her gaze over at him; he was propped up on his elbows, his lips parted, his eyes very dark as he watched her. She cupped his balls, and was rewarded with a thready groan, his eyes fluttering shut, his head falling back.

She moved her hand back to his shaft and began stroking it in rhythm with her mouth, moving a little faster, sucking a little harder, and by the time he groaned her name again her jaw was starting to hurt. Luckily he groaned yet again, followed by "Now, Donna...now," and she released him from her mouth, placing one last gentle kiss on the now-shiny tip before letting go of him completely, the slightly curved shaft bobbing away from her.

He pulled her back up toward him and kissed her hard, his hands tangling in her hair, then sliding down to cup her ass, tracing the line of her thong. "I love you in this," he whispered.

"I know," she said, nipping at his jaw.

"But I'm going to take it off you now," he added.

She smiled and let him flip her on to her back, then watched as he tugged at the small bit of material, pulling it down the length of her legs and throwing it aside. His hand covered her sex; his mouth closed around the tip of her breast. He teased her like that for a few moments, suckling, stroking, bringing her to the edge of arousal; then he lay down beside her and caressed her hip, silently urging her to get on top of him once more.

Which she did, straddling him easily, grasping his cock and sinking slowly down onto it until it felt right. They began moving together, unhurried at first, her hips twisting, his cock thrusting, his hand on her breast, her palms flat against his chest.

"This is so much better than work," he panted.

She laughed, then leaned back, putting her hands on his thighs; he gripped her hips. The rhythm increased as he jutted up into her faster and faster, her ass slamming down onto him again and again; and he felt so good, so hot, so full. She closed her eyes and started playing with her clit, knowing this wouldn't last much longer, and sure enough a moment later she heard "OhgodDonnafuckDonna," and he pumped into her frantically once, twice, three times, before spilling inside her in a hot rush. She stroked her clit harder, feeling the pressure build, Josh's cock still twitching inside her, and then heard him whisper, "Come on, come on," and his hands were on her breasts, twisting her nipples, and she stroked faster and harder and right there --

"Oh --" And she came, high-pitched sounds escaping her throat as she contracted around him. When it was over she stayed frozen in place, gasping for air, trying to think clearly again.

"Come 'ere," he murmured, pulling her back down to him. They kissed, slowly, taking frequent breaks for air, still breathing hard. Finally he slipped out of her and she rolled over to nestle in beside him. He wrapped his arms around her, pushed her hair out of her face, brushed his fingers down her bare back.

"So that was nice," he said conversationally.

"I thought so." She ran her hand over his bicep. Very nice.

"I'm -- sorry I was working in bed," he said quietly. "I know that makes you crazy."

"It's okay," she said, trailing a finger down his nose, over his lips. "It's just -- we already work together. And sometimes I feel like we need someplace that's just ours, just you and me. Just this," she said, giving him a quick kiss, "and not...troop movements in Kazakhstan."

"I know," he said. "And I'm not...you know, I think my record is clear, that I, you know, like this, much, much better than troop movements in Kazakhstan."

"Yeah, I was pretty much able to figure that out."

"And I also think you should know that I like working with you and sleeping with you much better than working with you and not sleeping with you."

"I am a fan of that as well," she said dryly.

"I'm glad we're agreed." He kissed her forehead, her lips. "Is the alarm set?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"'k."

As was their habit, she rolled over onto her side so he could snuggle up behind her, wrapping his arms around her, aligning his legs with hers. By morning he would have wandered over to the other side of the bed, but it was always nice to start out this way. "Night," he said faintly.

"Good night," she said, her thoughts already wandering to what she should wear to work tomorrow. She mentally cycled through her wardrobe, listening to Josh's breathing as he drifted off, then closed her eyes and went to sleep.

End.