RATING: NC-17. ***Please read responsibly.
SUMMARY: In the quiet morning... Vague season two spoilers.
DISCLAIMER: Well, they're not called by their names, but they're still not mine. Curses.
This one's for Lesley, 'cause she asked. ;)
***
She woke two minutes before the alarm clock, as always, and silenced it before it had a chance to go off, as always. The only difference was that she usually performed this ritual in her own bed with her own alarm clock; she didn't often have to fumble with his space-age, CD player-alarm clock combo contraption.
After she waged her successful war on technology, she settled back down on her side, curled up, and propped her head on her hand so that she could watch him rest. He was, by all accounts, even his own, a kinetic man. He bounced, yelled, strutted, and rushed his way through each waking hour aided by an endless stream of caffeinated beverages.
One day, just for kicks, she'd made sure the coffee in the bullpen was decaf. He had still bounced and yelled and all the rest, but when he thought no one was looking, she'd caught him rubbing at his eye, a gesture usually only employed by dark of night. Even without caffeine, though, he still sparkled, his personality too enthusiastic, his intelligence too immense for anything less.
Which was why she rarely witnessed him truly resting. Moments at work when he was still and silent were rare, and were usually a sign of just how bad things had managed to get. Cradling his heads in his hands, shoulders slumped, his figure lit only by his desklamp--that was the mental image she carried around with her on particularly bad days.
Asleep, though, he was different. He wasn't worried or angry or sad; he was just resting. Recharging those amazing batteries. And she relished the rare opportunities she had to witness it. It wasn't that he was a morning person or an insomniac, just that this thing between them was a political scandal-in-waiting, and they were too smart to be stupid. They rarely spent the entire night together; consequently, she rarely got to watch him sleep.
He was adorable, curled on his side, his body arching towards her. One arm shoved under the pillow; the other splayed on the slate grey sheet between them. The air was hot and sticky, and the top sheet twisted low on his hips. She let her gaze ease down his chest, catching momentarily on the scar, then moving on to the line of hair that disappeared under the rumpled fabric.
God, she thought, he is beautiful.
Unable to resist touching him, she dropped back down onto her pillow and slid her hand underneath his, tangling their fingers together. He mumbled something she didn't quite catch about bagels, his voice rusty. She laughed, turning her face into the mattress to stifle the sound.
"T'so funny?" he grumbled.
Still grinning, she shifted a bit closer. He refused to open his eyes, burrowing deeper into his pillow.
She squeezed his hand. "Were you having an erotic dream about bagels?" she whispered.
One eye popped open and focused on her. "Huh?"
Her free hand landed on his arm, smoothing upwards over skin flushed with sleep. "Not important."
"Good." He moved beneath her fingers, and her hand dropped to his rib cage as he stretched. He rolled to his back, groaning as his body lengthened under her touch. She traced his side as his chest expanded.
Then he kicked the sheet all the way off.
She raised an eyebrow. "Well, good morning."
Eyes still closed, he grinned and rolled back towards her. "Shaping up to be."
Her answering laugh faded into an appreciative moan when his warm hand gripped her hip and tugged her closer.
She stretched out full length against him, luxuriating in the feel of his skin against hers. Even in the sticky, sweaty heat, she couldn't get close enough. It was ridiculous, really, the way her desire for him never seemed to abate. Her hand slipped down to his back, sweeping down his spine, his skin warm and soft under her palm.
His fingers tightened on her hip as his other arm snaked underneath her torso, pulling her tightly against him. She watched him with a smile, his eyes still closed, lip curling up into a ludicrous leer as her breasts flattened against his chest.
"How you doin'?" he asked in a ridiculous voice.
She leaned in, laughing into his neck. Sex with Josh was not only mind-bendingly good, it could also be incredibly fun. "Feeling good," she answered playfully, her hand cupping his ass, pulling his hips hard into hers until he groaned. "You?"
"Super," he breathed, then his mouth landed on her shoulder, sprinkling hot, open-mouthed kisses into the crook of her neck, making her shiver. His hand slid from her hip down her thigh, pulling her leg up until he was pressed intimately against her. "Coming up on amazing," he amended.
Her fingers tightened on him, and she arched her back, her need increasing exponentially each second he held her still. "Anytime you want to bring the amazing," she murmured, feasting on the skin of his chest. "Feel free."
"I should feel that freedom?" he grinned, his hand roving up and down her thigh before dropping unerringly to her clit.
Her indrawn breath hissed, her teeth caught on her lip, and her hips jerked under his talented fingers. "Yes," she managed. "Absolute freedom."
His palm flattened against her. After he ground the heel of his hand lightly into her sex, just the way she liked it, he smoothed his palm up the inside of her thigh and pulled her leg further up his body. She flexed her muscles, desperately urging him closer as his thigh slid between hers.
She bit his shoulder gently, urging him on. Her breathing unsteady, she dropped her head back, lips parted.
And as he finally slid smoothly into her, his mouth landed on hers. She swallowed his moans, gasping against his lips as he thrust lazily inside of her. She broke off the kiss, desperate for air, her harsh breathing loud in the quiet morning air.
He held her thigh tightly, keeping her as close to him as possible. She felt exquisitely sensitive, and she wasn't sure if it was because it was morning, or because she woke up with him beside her, or just because he was really talented. Her breathing grew more and more labored, and he continued his leisurely pace until she was dying for him to speed up.
"Please," she whispered.
He gave a guttural groan, his fingers flexing against her thigh. His hips began lifting with more enthusiasm, pushing with more force, and she nearly shouted her gratitude. Instead, she tilted her hips towards him, moaning as he slid more deeply into her. Her hand clutched at his back, urging him on.
And suddenly he was hitting exactly the right angle and exactly the right spot, and then his lips were on hers and his tongue was in her mouth and she was coming.
"God," she gasped, tearing her mouth from his. Her hand grasped his ass and she ground herself into him, prolonging her pleasure. And then he was coming inside of her, his supplications echoing in her ear.
They lay clasped together, sweaty and breathing hard. His hand still smoothed up and down her thigh, soothing now, instead of inflaming.
"Told you," he said finally, his breathing most of the way under control.
"Told me what?" she asked, her palm on his chest urging him onto his back, measuring the desperate beating of his heart. He rolled, pulling her with him, and they both groaned when he slid out of her.
"Told you I could bring it," he answered, smoothing her hair down her back.
She smirked down at him, dropping little kisses onto his chest. "Bring *what*?"
"The amazing," he answered.
She rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Oh, it's definitely time to get up."
"I just got up," he complained.
"No," she grinned, "you just got *off*. Totally different thing."
He stared up at her for a moment, then burst into laughter. "Okay," he said, "you've been hanging around me way too long."
"I've been saying that for years," she mumbled, then she leaned down to give him a quick, hard kiss. "Now get your ass out of bed."
***
THE END