NOTES:
Author: Yana
Spoilers: 17 People
Archive: Please ask.
Disclaimer: Absolutely, totally, not my characters. The
West Wing is the property of the kind non-litigious type folks at NBC etc.
and I get no material profit from this.
AN: All my Air Force One info comes from here:
http://www.boeing.com/defense-space/military/af1/ Anything not on
that page is me taking creative license.
JOSH
Sometimes he curses the fact that he has such a resilient, fearless, up-for-anything assistant. Not that he knows for certain that she's up for anything, but it's kinda the way he's always pictured her.
***
Take their first day in the White House. It was a Saturday and he had just stepped into his brand new office. He was turning around, checking out every corner, planning where to put his books and tables for the next eight years and savouring the idea that he was going to start running the country from this very room.
Then the phone on the desk rang and he froze. He'd just arrived - surely noone knew he was here yet. This was it, he thought. The first call, the first piece of business. He stared at the ringing phone, suddenly hesitant to answer it.
That's when Donna breezed in and swept up the receiver. "Office of the Deputy Chief of Staff for Strategic Planning." She reached into his inner coat pocket for the pen she knew he kept there, fingers brushing across his chest as she did so. "Yes. Yes. I'll get back to you on that." She scribbled something down as she hung up the phone.
He just stared at her as she slipped the pen back into his pocket and breezed back out the door.
He knew he'd put together a good team. His people were currently in the process of loudly colonizing the bullpen. But at that moment, watching Donna confidently start the business of running the country, he was glad that she would be around to help him with his own projects exclusively.
***
Now, though, he's trying to indulge in a private fantasy which hinges on her not being completely resilient, fearless, and up-for-anything, and reality is intruding.
***
He remembers telling her last week that they were going to be flying on Air Force One for the first time. He'd been excited. She, on the other hand, had frozen in her tracks.
"Flying?"
"Yeah. To the thing. Overnight, so we can be there bright and early."
"Okay."
He looked into her suddenly wide-open eyes. "You've flown before, right?" he'd asked.
"Yeah." She'd started pulling together files on her desk and he let the subject drop.
During takeoff she'd clutched the arm rests. Well, not so much clutched them as taken a good, firm grip and a few deep breaths.
He'd reached over and squeezed her hand, grinning excitedly. She'd managed to grin and squeeze back. She might have been a bit more enthusiastic than necessary.
***
Now, he makes a fist of the hand she squeezed and remembers the feel of her fingers. It's all he has left, he thinks grumpily.
***
Because Donna, as ever, had bounced back from her anxiety and had tackled her tasks head on. Once they'd leveled off smoothly, she'd let go of his hand, gotten up, and started working. The tension had left her neck and shoulders as she bustled around with the other assistants, sorting papers and files and faxes.
And she still would be running around if it hadn't been for the turbulence. They'd hit the air pocket just as she'd been on tiptoe, straining to reach past Bonnie.
***
Oh, yeah, he thinks, closing his eyes. She'd been straining, all right. Stretching and straining that long, willowy, probably-very-flexible body around just because he wanted her to. Wait. Needed her to. She was getting papers he needed. Right. No wanting involved.
***
He wonders if he would have been as quick as Bonnie when the turbulence hit. She'd nimbly stepped out of the way as Donna overbalanced, stumbled a few steps, and fell heavily.
Maybe, if he'd been there instead of Bonnie, she would have landed on him and not twisted her ankle. And maybe, if she'd landed on him, and they'd tumbled to the ground together, and the fax room had been empty, she wouldn't have gotten up right away. Maybe she would have squirmed a little bit on top of him, trying to get comfortable. Maybe he'd have reached up and put his arms around her, pulling her tight against him so that he could feel her squirm.
***
Yeah. None of that happened, he grumbles to himself.
***
She'd fallen, yelped, and twisted her ankle - the same ankle she'd hurt less than a year ago when she'd left him to go back to what's-his-face. The other assistants had crowded around her, not letting him near, and eventually installed her in one of the guest rooms with an ice pack and some painkillers.
***
He sighs and lets his head fall back against the seat. He has to prep for a meeting with the President. Sam helpfully reminds him of it as he jogs in, grabs a file, and leaves again.
Would it have killed her? he grouches halfheartedly, shifting the files on his lap. Would it have killed her to stay nervous about flying in the first place? She'd still be sitting with him, if that were the case. He closes his eyes and tries to get comfortable on his soft, stuffed leather seat.
***
She'd still be sitting here with him, while everyone else was in different parts of the plane doing work. She might still be squeezing the hand he'd offered her at takeoff. She could be trembling a bit when they hit turbulence.
If that happened, then he'd immediately put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.
***
He looks down at the empty seat beside him. That won't work. There's a big arm rest between them. Hmmm.
***
Maybe, if it were really bad turbulence, she'd be a little more scared, and he'd have to unbuckle her seatbelt and pull her into his lap.
She'd wind her arms around him and bury her face against his neck. He'd hold her tight and get to smell her hair. He'd whisper comforting things in her ear, about how safe the plane was and how he wouldn't let anything happen to her, until she wasn't frightened anymore.
When the turbulence subsided, they'd stay like that for a while, with her curled up in his arms. Then, suddenly, he'd feel her soft lips pressing against his neck. Insistently.
***
This is getting good, he thinks, back in the real world. He shifts the folders in his lap again and looks around. Everyone else does seem to be working in other parts of the plane, but that's the only part of his fantasy that's actually happened. No turbulence, no trembling Donna, and certainly no turned-on Donna anywhere in evidence.
Who cares if that would never happen? he thinks, settling back and closing his eyes again. Screw it. Where had he left off?
***
Right.
Donna, sitting in his lap.
Donna, with her arms around him, starting to kiss that sensitive place where his neck ends and his jaw begins. He groans.
Donna, taking this as a sign of encouragement and nibbling her way down his jaw and then back up to his ear. His ears are very sensitive and she runs her tongue slowly back and forth along the edge.
It's very little time before he can't take the teasing anymore. He pulls back and turns his head so he can see her face. She doesn't let him look, though, wasting no time in capturing his lips. After a brief moment savouring the feel of her lips on his, she pushes her tongue into his mouth and things get blurry for him.
He shifts her on his lap so that she's straddling him and they can kiss face to face. Her hands are working at his shirt and tie as their tongues and lips move frantically together. He slides his hands up under her skirt to grab her ass and she moans into his mouth and wriggles against his rapidly expanding erection.
She has his shirt open now and her hands go wandering over his torso, clutching him when he makes her moan with his hands and tongue. His own hands have shifted her back on his lap so that he can burrow towards her sex. He's intent on ripping her pantyhose and any other intervening fabric apart at the seams, and when she feels his fingers working, she gasps and throws her head back, her nails digging into his sides.
He stops for a second and she looks down at him and smiles. Not breaking his gaze, she undoes the buttons of her blouse, one by one. He savours the sight of her soft curves reined in by satin and lace. She gets up on her knees, so her breasts are level with his face, and puts one hand on the chair back behind him for balance. Her other hand moves to the front clasp of her bra and she undoes it with a quick twist.
Her breasts spill forth onto his face and she gasps as he grazes his light stubble over her soft skin. He gratifies her unspoken demand and sucks a nipple into his mouth. She arches against him, both hands on the chair back now to brace herself.
He switches back and forth between her breasts as best he can while she makes high little noises and grinds against his hands. He's almost where he needs to be, her movements actually help him rip the fabric wider.
Finally, he can let his fingers tickle her naked sex and she cries out. She's very wet and he slips a finger inside to stroke her spot. She calls out his name again and climbs down off her knees into his lap, trying to grind her clit against his hand.
He obliges and she moans, thrusting her tongue into his mouth. Her hands whip off his belt and dive in to shed enough of his clothing to expose his cock. He's fully erect and ready for her, but she takes some time to squeeze and stroke him appreciatively.
She positions herself above him and slams down without hesitation. Her sex swallows him whole. She rotates her hips, once, twice, letting him revel in the gripping sensation of her warm, wet walls for a moment.
Then she begins to move. Her skirt is bunched up around her hips, but her untucked blouse is still hanging off her shoulders and covering her ass. If someone to come in right now, they wouldn't be able to see...
Well, actually, it would be pretty clear what was going on. Donnatella Moss, riding the Deputy Chief of Staff of the United States fast and hard. Joshua Lyman, getting fucked energetically by his young, underqualified assistant. He pushes these thoughts aside to concentrate on what she would feel like on him.
She's loud. She's willing to put her resilient, fearless personality into making love with him. Her breasts bounce as she impales herself on him over and over. She starts to pant with exertion and makes a high, whimpering cry each time he enters her. He wants to watch her wide open eyes as she comes and she doesn't disappoint, screaming his name as her orgasm clamps around him.
She leans in to kiss him when she finishes, then starts riding him again to bring him to completion.
***
His eyes slam open and he knows he can't take this fantasy to its natural conclusion. At least not here, he thinks, eyeing the nearest bathroom. The files on his lap are strategic but not all-powerful camouflage.
He realises that he should probably also check on Donna, the real Donna who's resting in the next room, to make sure she's okay. He grimaces. It might be a better idea to stay away from her for a bit.
He squashes the urge to check the expiry date on the condom in his wallet and let that dictate whether or not he goes to see Donna. No, he decides. That would put him completely over the line; neither of them deserves that kind of trouble.
Maybe it would be better for him to send one of the other assistants. Professional distance, he tells himself, looking down. That's probably a good thing.
He has a few minutes before his meeting, he thinks, getting up and heading
to the bathroom. Time enough to join the Flying Solo chapter of the Mile
High Club.
DONNA
Sometimes she's sorry, just a tiny bit in-the-back-of-her-mind-barely-articulated sorry that they won the election.
***
She remembers her first official Monday morning in the White House. She'd dug one of her two suits out of storage, swearing that she'd start building a new wardrobe with her first pay.
They'd already moved their stuff in, so her office was just as she'd left it on the weekend - piled with stacks of papers she'd have to figure out how to file. She'd started in right away and hadn't heard Josh come in until a cup of coffee had appeared in front of her.
She'd looked up, grinning, and was taken aback. Josh was in a suit. A really nice one. A really, really nice one that made him look completely hot. And he smelled really good too.
Sure, she'd seen him in a suit before. A tux, even. But it had hit her right then that this was what he'd be wearing every working day for the next eight years. No more casual campaign clothes, no more irreverent campaign fun. They were professional politicians now, and they'd have to dress and act accordingly for a very long time.
And that meant distance. They'd been getting closer since she'd come back to work for him again. Sometimes on the campaign trail they'd been so informal together that she'd wondered if there was a spark of chemistry there. It seemed like the more they did together, the closer they came to acknowledging that there might possibly be something between them.
But now it was time to put up a professional wall. Maybe there had been something there, maybe not. Now she'd never know, and that made her a little sad.
She'd pulled herself together though, when he'd appeared that first Monday looking like a powerful, world-class politician and offered her coffee. She'd raised her eyebrows and said, "Thanks."
"Could you do something about getting a coffee maker for the bullpen? And supplies?"
"Sure. Do we have a budget for that?"
"Oh, yeah." He gave her his trademark smirk. "We've definitely got a budget now."
She'd grinned back at him and gone to work.
***
Now, though, she's trying to indulge in a bit of private fantasy that would involve pulling that professional wall down for a while, and reality is just damn annoying.
***
Her only other experience flying hadn't been a picnic. They'd all crowded onto a plane for spring break, and she'd tried to calm her first-time anxiety with a little pre-flight alcohol. That was probably the wrong idea in retrospect, since takeoff made her nauseous and there'd been so much turbulence that she'd nearly whipped the little paper baggie out of the seat pocket in front of her a couple of times.
Add to that her so-called college friends who were loudly drunk, the crying babies, the claustrophobia, the annoying smell of the little recycled air fan over her head, and the realisation that not only was she stuck on this plane for the next four hours, but in fact stuck with her seat mates for the next five days and four nights, it was hardly a pleasant trip.
She'd stuck it out for a few days, but when she'd run into some other Wisconsin natives who'd driven down, she'd begged a ride back with them and cashed in her return ticket.
Consequently, she wasn't wild about flying again. Not that there'd be crying babies or annoying drunks on the plane, she reasoned, but it was perfectly natural to be hesitant about this mode of transportation.
It was also perfectly natural for Josh to expect her to fly with him wherever he needed to go, whenever necessary.
So she'd done some reading about in-flight yoga and made sure she was well-hydrated before she flew and brought Gravol along, just in case. She reassured herself that the finest flight crew in the world was in charge of the plane and that nothing at all could possibly happen.
And nothing did. She'd been a bit nervous at takeoff, but Josh's enthusiasm was infectious and the plane itself was so damn amazing that in the end she couldn't wait to get out of her seat and start exploring.
***
She's glad Bonnie managed to get out of the way. She feels just a tad bit guilty about laying in the dimly lit stateroom on a surprisingly comfortable berth. But she decides that if people want to fuss over her and give her a reprieve from work for a little while, she might as well take advantage of the opportunity.
***
If noone else had been around to see her fall flat on her ass, she might have given herself a few minutes, then tried to grin and bear it. But people saw, and fussed, and insisted she stay off her feet, remembering the bandage around her ankle all those months ago, and helped her to one of the guest quarters.
The look of alarm and concern on Josh's face had made her flush. She'd averted her eyes and ignored the brief twist in her gut.
Maybe if he'd been the only one around, he would have come and helped her up. That would have been nice. Maybe he'd check her ankle to make sure it was okay, and let his fingers linger on her instep and calf. And then maybe he'd insist that she shouldn't walk, pick her up in those amazing arms of his, and lay her down on the couch. He'd lean over her, stroking her hair, and she'd have an excuse to rest her hands on his shoulders and inhale the smell of his aftershave again.
***
Why the hell couldn't that have happened? she thinks grumpily. Right. There was no couch in the fax room. That's the only reason.
She's lying on a bed now, she thinks. How convenient.
He has a meeting with the President soon, or he probably would have come and checked on her.
***
It would've been nice to have him in here with her. Some quality time alone together. He'd knock softly and take a few steps inside, shutting and locking the door behind him so the light from the corridor wouldn't bother her.
He'd take a couple of steps towards her bed and she'd look up at him and smile. He'd blink in the dim light for a moment, then smile back as his eyes adjusted.
***
She draws the blanket up around her and snuggles down, staring at the stars outside the window. Just for now, she decides to pretend that the only reason he isn't here and this isn't actually happening is because he has a meeting with the President. Why not?
Where was she, again?
***
Right.
He comes closer to her bed, smiles back at her, and asks how she is.
She's about to respond when turbulence rocks the plane back and forth, worse than before. This time he's the one that overbalances and stumbles, landing in a heap on top of her.
***
A girl can dream, right?
***
He lands on top of her and she laughs. She wriggles a bit under him, so he isn't pressing down on anything important, and puts her arms around his neck.
"Hi."
"Hi."
"Just wanted to see how I was?"
He grins and averts his eyes. "Well, this wasn't exactly what I had in mind, but..." He gazes down at her again. "I think it works."
"So do I." She lifts her head from the pillow and presses her lips against his. He responds wholeheartedly, and soon they're completely tangled together on the bed, legs hooked around one another, arms clutching and grasping.
They shift on the bed so that she's on top and she pulls the blankets and sheets away from them. She works his pants open and shifts down so that she can take his semi-hard cock in her mouth. It firms up quickly under her care and soon his hands are grasping her hair as she drags her tongue along its length and places hot open-mouth kisses on its tip. She wraps one hand around the base of his erection and uses the other to trace patterns on the skin of his thighs, his belly, his balls. She loves hearing the gasps and moans he makes.
Eventually he pulls her back up, though, and flips them over so she's underneath. They start to work on each other's buttons and she loves the way his chest gets revealed to her bit by bit. He stares at her breasts and she's glad she wore one of her pretty bras today. He dips his head down to taste her, pulling the fabric away to expose her nipple, and she stops him just for a second so that she can shrug out of both blouse and bra. He starts to nibble and suck at her breasts in earnest, and she cries out softly.
She reaches down to stroke him again and he grunts a bit, moving her hand away. He slips his thumbs under the waistband of her panties and strips off her skirt, hose, and underwear with one long movement.
He's staring at her naked body now, and it's turning her on completely. She sits up and pushes him down so that she can straddle him. She lets her hair trail down his chest as she kisses his stomach and works her way slowly towards his mouth.
His hands are spreading her, playing with her folds and clit and making sure she's ready for him. She reassures him with an open-mouth kiss, enjoying the feel of his tongue thrusting up against hers. This time, when she reaches down to grab his cock, he doesn't protest.
She teases it against her clit once or twice before sinking down on it completely. She loves the sensation of being filled, but she knows she has to move for both their sakes.
She starts to rock up and down on him, beginning slow and speeding up bit by bit. His hands on her hips help to guide her so that it's good for him too. The tension is building heavily in her sex and he seems to know what she's about to request because suddenly his hand is on her, his thumb at her clit, giving her the stimulation she needs.
She throws her head back then and closes her eyes. She tries to concentrate on finishing and speeds up the pace.
"Wait."
Suddenly Josh wants her to stop. She looks down at him, breathing heavily, and he says, "I want to see you. I want to feel you when you come."
He tugs her down on top of him, changing the angle so that they both groan. He slips out of her quickly, just long enough throw off his shirt and kick his pants the rest of the way off his legs, so that he's naked too. He pulls her down so she's on her side next to him, and takes her in his arms. He hooks her top leg over his hip and that creates just enough space for him to thrust inside her again.
"You okay?" he asks. She nods, not trusting herself to speak.
They move in tandem now, and he kisses her as they thrust together. The hair on his chest and legs tickles her breasts and belly, and his skin is warm and getting damp against hers. She loves the feeling of being wrapped around his naked body and looking directly into his eyes while they do this.
He's set a deliberate, steady rhythm that's slowly driving her crazy as her climax inches closer. She presses against him harder and she can feel him smile against her lips as he reaches down again to stroke her in time to their thrusts. He keeps pushing her farther and higher and she cries out against his mouth as he touches her.
She knows she's nearly there and that's when he starts to speed up, thrusting harder. She meets him stroke for stroke as he pushes her over the edge and she shouts his name again and again when she comes.
He slows his pace as she finishes and waits for her to rejoin him. As soon as she can, she kisses him hard, pushing her tongue against his, and rocks her hips towards him. He groans and rolls them so that he's on top of her again, then starts plunging into her in earnest once more.
He buries his face in the space between her neck and shoulder. She keeps her eyes open and watches his back and shoulders move as he drives himself towards his climax. Then and there she decides that there's no better feeling than being thoroughly fucked by Josh Lyman.
She pushes herself up to meet his thrusts, reveling in the feel of being filled by him, and is almost surprised when she's able to come again a few moments later, calling for him as she does. He follows soon after, groaning her name in her ear.
They collapse together and stay connected, wrapped around each other, until sleep overtakes them both.
***
She's definitely had a nap, she thinks. She realises her hand is still inside her skirt and panties and is relieved to see that the blanket is still securely in place. Even if someone had come in, they wouldn't have been able to see what she'd been doing before she went to sleep. She slips her hand out and zips up her skirt again, turning over to get comfortable. She'll have to get up soon enough anyway.
She flexes her ankle briefly. It's probably fine.
She's woken up again a bit later by a knock on the door. It's Margaret, looking like she's been up all night working. Donna assures Margaret she's fine and offers her the bed for a while. The exhausted woman is too tired to protest much, so Donna leaves her to it and wanders out to explore again.
There has to be a couch around here somewhere, she reasons. Or maybe
she could curl up in one of those big chairs.
THE END