He put down the empty glass and followed her to the elevator bank.

They stood side by side, staring straight ahead at the closed elevator doors, neither of them saying a word. Donna picked at some lint on her sweater. Josh put his hands in his pockets. His pulse thrummed in his ears.

When the elevator arrived they got in and both reached out to press the button. He pulled his hand back; she pressed the button for his floor, not hers. He raised an eyebrow.

"Your room's closer," she said, meeting his gaze.

He swallowed, blinked. "Okay."

She looked away.

Elevator Muzak rushed in to fill the silence. God, he hated Muzak.

Shouldn't he be doing something? He should probably be doing something. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye; she seemed preternaturally calm, eyes fixed on the closed elevator doors. He took a step closer to her. Wondered if he should put his arm around her shoulder, maybe. Touch her hair?

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. Donna stepped out, leaving him to follow.

When they got to his room he couldn't work the damn key. He kept ripping it out too damn fast and it was possible his hands were shaking slightly and finally she took the plastic card out of his grip and smoothly slid it in and out of the slot. The light turned green, and she pushed down on the door handle, opening the door and walking inside, once again leaving him to follow.

She stood in the middle of the room, looking at him with those damn Bambi eyes. He made a pointless gesture with his arm. "Do you want anything?" he asked, knowing he didn't actually have anything. "Water, or --"

"No," she said, with that same maddening calm. She dropped her sweater on the edge of the bed, then walked over to him, deliberately, hips swaying. Put her arms around his neck, and kissed him.

She kissed him and it was just as good as he remembered, just as good as the countless times he'd played back their first kiss in the rusty Betamax in his head. She kissed him and it tasted like overpriced scotch and something else, something he couldn't define but it didn't matter because god, she was kissing him, she was kissing him hard and his hands were on her waist and now her fingers were tugging at the knot of his tie.

He tore his lips from hers, sucking in air, but she didn't slow the deft movements of her fingers, sliding the now undone tie off his neck and letting it fall to the floor. She started on his shirt buttons next, and it dawned on him that he should probably be helping or reciprocating or something, instead of standing there dumbfounded, and so he tugged at the hem of her sweater and she stopped what she was doing just long enough to let him pull it up over her head, and she was wearing this white bra that made her breasts look amazing and his dick went from half-mast to fully at attention, draining precious blood from his brain, as if he wasn't lightheaded enough as it was.

Donna made quick work of his dress shirt and undershirt; then he pulled her back to him for a kiss, mostly because he wanted an excuse to run his hands over her bare torso, over the cups of her bra. Her hands traveled over his chest, skimming his nipples, making him gasp. He moved his mouth to her neck, breathing in the scent of her citrusy perfume, cupping her breast with his hand, tongue flicking over her soft skin, her hair tickling his nose, and god it felt good, but she was already hastily pulling at his belt, unbuckling it and then reaching for his zipper.

He pulled back to ask her if she was sure about all this, thinking that was probably what he was supposed to do, but when his eyes met hers all he saw there was determination and impatience and, dare he believe it, desire, and so he stepped out of his pants as quickly as he could and kicked off his shoes, ripped off his socks, while she unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor and stepped out of her shoes and then she took him by the hand and pulled him down onto the bed with her, his body slamming into hers, and holy god, the feel of her long, lean body against his was like to drive him mad before this was over.

They kissed urgently, almost frantically, lips smacking, tongues searching, hands wandering, unable to get close enough, unable to feel and taste enough of each other, and when her hand pressed against the front of his boxers he couldn't help it, he let out a low moan against her mouth. He pulled away from her and started clawing at her pantyhose, jerking them down her legs, and he thought he heard something tear but she didn't seem to mind, instead she was arching beneath him, her chest rapidly rising and falling, and suddenly he had to get rid of that bra, had to see her breasts, had to feel them beneath his hands and tongue. He threw her pantyhose somewhere behind him and roughly pulled her up to him; she straddled his lap and let him fumble with the bra clasp, running her fingers through his hair while he figured it out, and when he finally managed to undo it, managed to slip the bra down her arms and toss it aside, he grabbed her right breast with his hand and covered the pale pink nipple with his mouth, sucking strongly, ardently, worrying at the hardened flesh with his teeth.

Donna gasped in what he hoped was pleasure and tightened her grip on his hair, ground her pelvis against him. He palmed her other breast, rolling the nipple under his palm, and she gasped again, may have even murmured his name. After a few more moments of sucking, teasing, kneading -- she really had spectacular breasts, just as he'd always imagined -- he lay her back down on the bed and hooked his thumbs under the sides of her underpants, pulled them down her legs. He came back up ready to kiss her again, but she flipped him over onto his back and tugged at his boxers, jerking them off him, and before he could form another thought her hand was around his cock and he may have yelped, there. She stroked him a few times, her thumb pressing against the underside of his shaft, and for a moment he was truly afraid that she was going to kill him, so he grabbed her upper arms and clumsily brought her back up level with him, smothering her mouth with his, gratified by the sound she made in the back of her throat as he did so.

He rolled them over so he was on top again, pinning her beneath him, and they were kissing so hurriedly now, so hard and fast, and he worked his hand between her legs, explored the warm folds, then slipped a finger inside of her and she moaned into his mouth and god, she was wet, and he could hardly believe that she was as turned on as he was, when his cock was so hard he thought he was going to die.

He brought both hands back up to her face and broke the kiss, looked down into her eyes. He tried to say something, anything, wondered if this moment merited some sort of --

"Condom?" she whispered.

"What?"

"Do you have one?"

"...yeah," he said. He stumbled out of bed, picked up his pants to retrieve his wallet and the condom inside. The day he and Donna had kissed he'd optimistically replaced the one that had been in there, which to his chagrin had expired some months previous. Now he was glad he'd made the secretive and slightly embarrassing trip to the drugstore. He ripped the foil packet open as he bounded back onto the bed; she snatched it from him and proceeded to roll the condom onto him, and he proceeded to try to keep his eyes from rolling back into his head. Christ.

She scooted down under him and lifted her legs, putting them up high on his hips, then grasped his cock and guided him to her opening. He pushed inside of her, slowly, feeling her muscles relax around him, taking him in. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. She clutched at his ass, presumably urging him to get on with it.

Which he did, stopping just shy of pulling out of her completely, then easing back in. She was hot and wet and fuck had it been a long time since he'd done this. She moved with him, and they quickly built up a swift rhythm, Josh pumping into her with short, sure strokes, Donna tilting her hips to him again and again, both of them starting to moan, now, moaning from effort and pleasure.

"God, Donna, I --" he panted.

She cut him off with a kiss, lifting her head from the pillow, forcing her tongue into his mouth. He kissed her back greedily, the effort slowing the tempo of his thrusts, and suddenly Donna rolled him over, his cock still inside of her, so that she was on top, again. She tore her mouth from his and twisted her hips, hard, making him groan, then undulated atop of him, working them back up to their previous rhythm, back to it and beyond.

He cupped her breasts, ran his thumbs over her nipples as she rode him hard, her ass slamming down onto his thighs again and again. Her chest was flushed and her lips were parted. He ran his palm between her breasts, down to her abdomen, whispered her name.

She tilted forward slightly and he moved his hands to her hips, helping her increase the speed and strength of her movements. They were both grunting, now, grunting and moaning, the slapping of skin against skin providing an underpinning beat to their noises of exertion. "Fuck," he muttered, the feeling of her gripped around his cock almost more than he could stand.

"Harder," Donna breathed, in a voice he’d never heard her use before.

She really was trying to kill him. But he obeyed, slamming up into her with all his might, hissing at the burning wet friction as he slid deeper into her, and she started huffing out a steady stream of short, high-pitched sounds, her eyes closed in pleasure. Josh cupped her breast again, the pale skin now slick with sweat, toying with her hardened nipple, twisting it between his fingers.

Donna's head tipped down, her hair obscuring her face, and she was still emitting these hot, mewling cries, and he was pretty sure she was close to coming.

He really, really hoped she was close to coming, because he sure as hell was.

Hold on, he told himself. Just a little longer...he attempted electoral math in his head as a distraction, focused on the pain in his straining thighs, anything. Crap, it wasn't working...this could be bad --

"Oh my god," Donna suddenly yelled, and yelled it again, and holy mother of -- her muscles were clamping around him, milking him like a fucking cow and "Oh my god," and it was him yelling it, this time, and it was like his entire body was on fire and he jerked up into her like a fucking madman and there, fuck, yesyesyesyes.

When they were both finished he grasped the edge of the condom and pulled carefully out of Donna, who inelegantly fell onto her back next to him, breathing hard. He remained immobile for a few moments, catching his breath, drifting back to earth, then raced to the bathroom to dispose of the condom.

"That was amazing," he said when he climbed back into bed beside her.

"It was," she agreed. She pulled the covers up over her chest, gave him a smile, but didn't offer anything else.

He narrowed his eyes at her. She wasn't just saying that, was she? He was pretty sure all that moaning and screaming had been the real thing. So why was she --

Cuddling. That was the answer. Women loved cuddling. Right?

He put his arm around her waist and kissed her shoulder, all set to snuggle in.

"We should probably get some sleep," Donna announced. "6 AM staff. Big day tomorrow."

"Uh, yeah," he said, pulling back from her. "Okay."

"Good night," she said brightly, and rolled away from him, gathering the covers around herself.

"Night," he said, by this time completely confused. He stared at her naked back for a while -- it was a very nice naked back -- and then rolled over himself, trying to get comfortable, hugging his pillow instead of Donna, wondering how in the hell he was ever going to get any sleep.

End.