I wiggle a little closer to him, sliding one of my arms under his body to keep him near me. His hand strokes my stomach gently, his fingertips leaving trails of fire wherever they touch. I whimper a little into his mouth, quietly, but he picks up on it anyway. His arm tightens around my shoulders, and his other hand leaves my stomach and moves down to my hip. I shift closer to him.

"Let me know if I'm wrong about this," he breathes, and before I can ask what he's talking about, his hand disappears between my thighs. I nearly bite off his lip as my back arches off the bed for a moment.

"Fuck," I gasp, my hand coming up to grab onto his bicep. He pauses for a moment, waiting to see if I'm going to stop him, but my hips push against his fingers greedily. Without another word, he rubs his fingers against me quickly. My legs clamp around his hand for a few moments, trying to keep him in place, before they fall open again, the comparatively cool air of the hotel room hitting my overheated skin, making me tremble all over.

I don't know if I've ever been so turned on in my life. Not just in this moment, but with everything that's happening with Josh. It feels like all the years of suppressed want and need are coming to the surface at one time, heightening every emotion and experience, making it all larger than life. I don't know if it'll always be like this with him—hell, I don't know if I'll get to be with him like this outside of this hotel room—and maybe that's why it feels important to get as much out of this time together as I can.

I whimper again, loudly this time, and he adds more pressure to his movements. This is going to be another one of those embarrassingly quick ones. I can already feel everything inside of me coiling into a tight little spring.

I turn my head, my mouth searching for his, and I kiss him for a few long moments before I break away, gasping for air. He presses his forehead to mine, his eyes trained on my face. I struggle to keep my eyes open so I can see him, too, watching every expression he makes, trying to figure out what it is about him that gets to me the way he does. His eyes are still incredibly dark, the pupils still dilated from arousal. His lips are curved into a smile, the deep dimples that reel me in—that have always reeled me in—clearly visible. His curly hair sticks up in every direction, making him look like a combination of little boy and mad scientist. I know, somehow, that these aren't the things that draw me to him. These are the obvious things, the things that his crazy fan club see and swoon over, the things that make him so charming even when he's being an ass, and that help him get away with murder. I'm not immune to any of it, and they're some of the first things I noticed about him all those years ago. I think what it is is that he hasn't stopped watching me, not since last night. He's been paying close attention to every single thing I've said and done, making note of the things that get the best reaction out of me. It's something that he's always done, for better or for worse. He knows what to say and do to make me so crazy that I want to strangle him, and now he's learning what to do to make me absolute putty in his hands.

He notices me. Maybe not all the time; maybe there have been points where he hasn't paid much attention to anything, but for the most part, I think that's what it is about him. He sees me. I'm important to him, and not just in this way. For a lot of years, we've been a team, and an excellent one at that. We had to work at it sometimes, but most of it came naturally. I'm attracted to him—there's no doubt about that. I find his eyes and his smile and his unruly hair utterly mesmerizing, but what keeps me coming back for more is that at the end of the day, we've always been more than physical. He's actually interested in my mind, and that might be what attracts me to him the most.

His fingers change directions suddenly and I gasp, digging my nails into his forearm. My head swirls, and my body tingles all over.

"I can't believe I'm actually touching you," he breathes, his face filled with wonder, and that's all it takes to make me snap. My back arches off the bed, my hips thrusting frantically against his fingers, another orgasm crashing through me, nearly tearing me in two.

"Joooooooooooooooooooosh!" I wail, unable to say anything other than his name. I collapse against the bed, my breath coming out in short pants as he continues to move his fingers furiously against me. I push against hand, the sensations rushing over me, almost overwhelming.

It suddenly borders on painful and I grab his wrist, shoving his hand away. I gasp for a few moments, trying to compose myself before I laugh a little, a smile on my face so wide that I can already feel my cheeks aching. His hand slides across my hip, leaving a damp trail in its wake, and I turn into him, burrowing my face in his neck. My legs are shaking violently, and I'm sure he can feel it. His arms wrap around me, his fingers stroking up and down my back as his leg drapes over mine.

"Well," I croak, my voice wobbly and strange. I clear my throat a couple of times. "That was fun."

Josh snorts into my hair, and I can feel his body shaking as he laughs. "It was all right, I guess."

I pinch his side and he yelps, twisting out of my grip. I pull my head from under his chin and slide up a couple of inches, resting my head on the pillow next to his. He grins at me broadly and reaches over, tucking my hair behind my ear. I sigh and, at least for a few moments, feel completely at peace. My body feels like Jell-O right now, all wobbly and unstable. I don't know if I could stand right now if I wanted to.

"This is too comfortable," he murmurs, his eyes still dark, still examining my face. "Think anyone would notice if we didn't show up again?"

I giggle softly, suddenly struggling to keep my eyes open. "I'd say it's a possibility."

"We should probably get up," he whispers.

"Probably," I sigh, not able to care that I'm drifting off to sleep.

I feel a gentle touch on my shoulder and my eyes flutter open. Josh is sitting next to me, this time on the edge of the bed, and I sit up as fast as I can when I realize he's fully dressed.

"I fell asleep?" I ask, my head foggy. "Oh, my—"

"Just for a couple of minutes," he cuts me off, putting reassuring hand on my thigh, and it's only then that I realize that the sheet and comforter have been draped over my body. "You passed out and I made myself get out of bed before I did, too." I grip the blankets to my chest, suddenly feeling weirdly discombobulated and exposed. He scoots closer to me, resting his hand on the bed next to my hip. "I took a really fast shower, and I left everything out for you in case you wanted to also. Not that you need it," he hurries to explain, a few traces of pink gracing his cheeks. "I didn't know if it'd help wake you up."

We stare at each other for a minute. I try to wrap my mind around what's happening and reassure myself that what just happened wasn't a dream, but my brain is still groggy and confused by the brief passage of time. Parts of my body are far too sore for me to have imagined it all. He shifts a little, looking uncomfortable, and I put my hand on his, squeezing just a little. "Thank you."

He looks up at me again, a slow, bashful grin spreading over his face. "No problem." He shifts around again, an uncertain look on his face for a few moments, before he treats me to a full-fledged smile. "I was thinking—"

"Always a dangerous past-time," I tease, squeezing his fingers again. He just rolls his eyes.

"I was thinking that, should the worst happen tonight, there's going to be the need for some comfort."

It takes my brain a few long seconds to realize he's talking about the election and its possible outcome. "Comfort would be essential."

"Or, it could go the other way, and there could be cause for celebration."

"That's also a definite possibility."

"Think you'd be interested in commiserating with me later on? Or, you know, celebrating?"

I shift a little closer to him, not even attempting to hide my smile. "Depends. Would this commiseration or celebration be naked?"

"I really think that's the only way to do it, don't you? You know, to get the full effect."

"I think I could be amenable to that."

I swear his smile lights up the entire room. "Really?"

My heart flutters a little, already anticipating tonight's activities. Activities that he's instigating no less. "Really."

He leans forward and presses his lips to mine, kissing me slowly. I wrap my arm around his shoulders, the blankets I'd been clutching to my chest pooling around my waist. The hand resting beneath mine on the bed slides out and grabs my hip, his other arm wrapping around my back and dragging me closer. The sensation of my bare breasts rubbing against his shirt sends tingles to places I have no business getting tingles in right now.

We break apart, both breathing heavily, and his forehead rests against mine. "I have to get to the war room."

"Okay."

"It's really hard when you're sitting here naked."

"It's hard?" I ask in the most innocent tone I can muster.

"Shut up," he whispers, pressing his lips to mine again.

This time, I'm the one that manages to pull away. I give his shoulder a gentle shove, pushing him as best I can toward the door. "Go. I'll be there in a few minutes."

He nods and stands, keeping his eyes averted from my naked chest for all of a second before he zooms in on it, licking his lips subconsciously. I lean back on my hands and arch my back toward him, not caring at that moment if it looks casual or calculated. He backs toward the door, staring, and I swear he's salivating. I slide one of my legs out from under the blankets and he actually whimpers.

"Go," I insist, though part of me really wishes we could stay.

"Yeah," he mumbles, his eyes raking over me one last time before he nods resolutely. "Yeah." He grabs the door handle and yanks it open, marching through the door without a backward glance, and I sigh as it clicks shut behind him. The room suddenly feels eerily quiet, but somehow it's only then that I realize the TV is still on, updating the country on the election. I look around for the remote half-heartedly, but God knows where it wound up.

I push the blankets back and put my feet on the floor, standing carefully. My knees are still wobbly, but I don't fall down. I take a few tentative steps before bringing myself to the bathroom. I'm amazed and touched to see that he's actually left the place set up for me—bathmat still in front of the tub, fresh towel hanging off the shower rod, curtain pulled back. It's a little thing, but I'll damned if it doesn't do things to my insides that big gestures can't manage to do.

I glance at myself in the mirror, then pause to examine myself for just a moment. I definitely look like a woman who was well and truly fucked. I look like I just had amazing sex. My cheeks are pink, my eyes are bright, my hair is mussed, and my skin is littered with tiny bite marks and fingerprints.

I shake my head and force myself to look away. I definitely need to rinse myself off—the smell of sex is heavy in the air right now, and I'm sure it's all over my skin, as well. I turn on the water and go in search of a pen, finding one easily amongst Josh's stuff. I twist up my hair and shove the pen through it, keeping it out of the way of the shower. I walk back into the bathroom and step under the spray, hissing as the water hits my sore muscles. I need to get myself together and get back out there.

We have an election to win.

And that's all she wrote. Thanks for sticking with me through this one as I constantly forgot to post. Hopefully, this was enjoyable for a few of yow. I have some more stuff to post at some point, but I need to translate it from my chicken scratch handwriting in my magic little notebook to my laptop. I'm also working on the wedding night for kcat1971, which I hope to have enough mental focus for at some point in the not too distant future.

It should be noted that I have crazy head canon for this timeframe of TWW now. Like, I firmly believe that Josh & Donna have a lost weekend just before Transition. Don't know why. I just feel like there had to be something in between. As a bonus, I've written a bit of that. That'll be posted at some point. I've also been writing things in a disjointed order, and will probably be posted as such.

The title comes from "Someone To Watch Over Me," which I'm sure most of you are savvy enough to have figured out by this point.

At any rate, I do appreciate you reading this, and even more I appreciate the comments and kudos.