"Is this real?" he breathes, his lips hardly parting from mine, and I honestly have no idea. I don't know what's real at this point, or what's fantasy, if we're having some combined dream, or even if I'm going to wake up alone in my hotel room, my hand between my thighs, trying desperately to find some sort of relief from all this wanting.

"I have no idea," I say. He blinks at me, seemingly as surprised as I feel to be so unsure of reality. We stop thrusting then, staring at each other as our chests heave. It's intense, this feeling of not knowing what's up or down, what's real or make believe.

He runs his fingers through my hair, pushing it off my shoulders, and I feel myself smile at him. Everything snaps back into place. Of course this is real. Not a single fantasy has ever felt like this. He grins at me in response, pulling me in for another kiss. His hands move to the small of my back, pulling me toward him with renewed vigor. I gasp as he hits a few other spots, almost biting through his lip at the intensity of it. I push against him as hard as I can, grinding my hips against his with every thrust.

It's amazing. I wrap an arm around his neck as he holds me to him, his hips rocking back and forth against me. I brace one of my hands on his knee, my back arching involuntarily as I moan loudly. I'm vaguely aware that someone in a neighboring room probably heard that, but I can't bring myself to care. Let them hear it. Let the entire campaign staff hear it. Let them press their ears to the walls and giggle to themselves about what they think is just two people having sex, that we're only releasing a little bit of pressure. That's not it at all. I suppose that, yes, at its core, we are just two people having sex, but no one can know how much more it is. They can't know that it's something deeper and much more profound, something that has no words but is full of meaning. They don't know that it's two people finding each other, finding their way to each other, after years of searching and struggling and suppressing. And it doesn't matter to me if they know it. It doesn't matter to me what they assume. I know what this is. Josh probably does, too.

I feel a tingling deep inside of me, and I'm honestly not sure what it is. I rotate my hips against his, reveling in the friction. His mouth wraps around one of my nipples, sucking at it so hard that it's almost painful—almost, but not quite. His teeth and tongue work in tandem, scraping hard enough to make me shiver, then lapping at me softly enough to make me melt. "Josh," I whimper, and he wraps his arms tighter around me, moving to my other breast. He suckles at that one, too, moaning softly, the sensation making me crazy. I've never been opposed to a partner paying attention to my breasts, but I've never considered them to be one of my key erogenous zones. Apparently, no one has ever done it right. Josh could teach a master class in nipple play and probably make a mint. I'm not sure how he'd advertise for something like that, but as long as I benefit from his beautiful mouth, I don't really care.

I start to move up and down his length, the sensation completely different than the grinding thing we've been doing, though the end result is the same. My senses are on overload. Everything is tingling and contracting, the feeling that's been low in my stomach beginning to blossom outward. It seems ridiculous to realize it now of all times, but I suddenly know an orgasm is inevitable. I don't know that I've ever had an orgasm during first time sex. Usually, there are too many nerves at play, and I, if I let myself get too far in my own head, often start to feel self-conscious about what I'm doing, wondering if I'm moaning too much, or not enough, if I'm making weird faces, that sort of thing. Orgasms usually come with becoming comfortable with someone.

I guess that's the key. This may be the first time we've had sex, and we may have spent the better part of a year apart from each other, but I know him too well to really worry about any of that. He takes me as I am, and I do the same for him.

His thumb brushes over me, pushing down gently, and my eyes fly open. My entire body freezes as I stare at him, and I could swear the entire earth stops for a few seconds. Nothing moves…except his thumb. The air leaves my lungs in a whoosh and I grind against him furiously. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God! Oh, yes. Yes yes yes yes yes . Oh, Josh. Josh, right there. Right there!" I'm sort of aware that I'm yelling, and I know that's not something I normally do. Not at this volume, at any rate. I can't control it, though, no more than I can control the way my body is moving right now.

I grab his face and pull him in, kissing him as best I can. It's mostly unsuccessful as we try to breathe and our constant motion and the fact that I can't stop moaning, but I can't get close enough to him. I don't know if I can ever be close enough to him.

"Josh," I gasp. Something inside of me snaps as he presses his thumb into me and I feel like I'm literally falling off a cliff. "Oh, God. Josh—I'm going—I'm about—ohhhhhhh!" I lose control of my body, instinct and sensation taking over as I thrust and pump and push. My eyes lock with his; my hands grasp at his back, trying to hold on. I'm exploding, shattering…falling apart. "Ahhhhhh!" I cry out as he rubs his thumb against me furiously, breaking me into a million tinier pieces. It's too much. I never want it to end. I'm not going to survive it. "Josh," I whisper, burying my face in his neck as I buck furiously. "Josh, Josh, Josh, ohhhhh yes." His thumb never stops moving, creating friction that's going to make me insane. I don't ever want him to stop. I want him to feel as incredible as I feel right now. I keep pushing against him, my movements uncoordinated now, and clench my inner muscles around him. He gasps, groaning, mumbling incoherently.

"You," I tell him, my voice faint and weak, and I wrap myself around him. "You."

He makes a noise in response, his muscles tensing beneath me. His hand tightens on me, pulling me against him furiously. I lift my head and smile at him, running a hand through his hair, and he comes apart before my eyes. His face contorts, his hips lifting off the bed for a few seconds as his entire body goes taught. The cords in his neck stand out. He moves his hand from between my thighs, holding onto me as his hips move in quick, powerful strokes. "Donna!" he yells, his head falling back. I ride him as best I can at this point, hoping he feels as good as I do. He lets out a noise louder than mine and what I can only describe as a roar just as he presses his face into my chest.

His hips jerk against me, weaker suddenly, and he hugs me to him. I can feel his breath hitting my skin, coming in quick, short bursts. I stroke his hair for a few moments before I cup his cheeks, making him lift his head. I smile before leaning in to kiss him. Our mouths move slowly against each other with no purpose other than to be close. I move my hands over his damp skin, tracing vague patterns anywhere I can reach. His hands explore my body, too, his touch soft and reverent, sending chills down my spine. I can still feel him inside of me, and even though he's deflated a bit, it feels amazing.

I make an unhappy noise as I shift from him a little, knowing that he needs to take off the condom before it gets gross. I slide off his lap, feeling empty without him in me. My heart is still pounding a million miles a minute and I actually feel lightheaded. Everything is spinning and swirling, like when you were a kid and would stick out your arms and twirl in a circle until you couldn't stand it anymore, then drop to the grass to watch the sky tilt around you. I stretch my body, the parts of me that haven't been used in some time already pleasantly sore. I drop onto the bed, stretching everything out again, and a moment later, his arm is wrapped over my stomach, his nose rubbing against my cheek. I turn my head, pressing my lips to his. I try to tell him everything I'm feeling, everything he made me feel tonight.

I reach up, holding onto the back of his head to keep him close to me. His hand slides up and down my side, his fingers paying special attention to my breast for a few long moments before he grabs onto my hip. Despite that, I can feel his body growing more lethargic by the second, everything becoming slack as he kisses me.

This part might feel more surreal than the sex we just had. All the holding and kissing after the act isn't something I would have thought Josh would do. I guess I just figured he'd roll over and pass out, both of us retreating to our corners until…what? We fell asleep that way? Or one of us got up and left?

I realize at that moment that even though his mouth is still pressed against mine, it's no longer moving, and I can't help but smile a little. He's breathing deeply, fast asleep. It's actually kind of cute, especially the way his chin is resting on my shoulder. But, exhausted as I am, I can't get my eyes to shut. I feel like I'm on high alert suddenly, trying to figure out what I'm supposed to do now. I would normally assume that I should go to sleep, too, but with Josh…that's hard to say. I don't know what his usual protocol is for a situation like this. Is he going to wake up at some point, irritated that I'm still here? Will he think I'm invading his space? I know we didn't exactly talk about this beforehand, but was tonight just a one-time thing for him? If I'm being honest, I probably gave the impression that I just wanted him for the night. I knew it before this, and I'm even more certain of it now, that a one-night-stand isn't what I want, but can I expect him to be on the same page?

I shiver, suddenly acutely aware that I'm completely naked in someone's hotel room, and sit up carefully, trying not to jostle him. I'm honestly at a loss right now. Should I just get dressed and go back to my room? Maybe that'd be better for him.

His fingertips brush against my back suddenly, and I nearly jump out of my skin. "What's up?" he asks, his voice already gravely with sleep.

"Cold," I tell him, and it's the truth. It may not be the entire truth at the moment, but it's certainly not a lie. He immediately sits up, pulling the blankets from beneath us and maneuvering under them in one surprisingly fluid motion. He holds them up for me, waiting for me to join him. Letting out a little breath, I pull up my legs and slide in next to him, wondering if I should give him space or if being close to him is okay.

His arm drapes over my stomach again, his lips on my shoulder, and it makes me ache all over. I hold onto his arm, running my fingers over the soft hairs that cover it. I turn my head toward his—he blinks at me sleepily, looking completely irresistible. I lean in, pressing my lips to his, sighing as he responds. I don't think I'm any less confused right now. I'm sure I'm putting too much thought into this. I should just go to sleep, even if it's only for a few hours.

We kiss a few more times before I turn onto my side, holding his arm in place. He scoots up behind me, molding his body to mine, and I can feel him relaxing almost instantly. It must be pretty incredible to be a guy right after sex—the ability to pass out almost immediately is quite impressive. Though, I suppose in fairness to Josh, he's gotten about four hours of sleep a night for about a year now. If anyone has a right to be exhausted, it's him.

I sigh, pressing myself into him. His body is warm—very warm—and it's doing a good job of finally making me feel tired. I stare out into the darkened hotel room, feeling sleep slowly crawling through my body, working its way from my extremities inward. I run my fingers over his arm again, trying to enjoy the way he feels next to me. I want to revel in the moment. I want to bask in the afterglow. I think part of me is. The rest of me, though, can't help but wonder what's going to happen next.

And that's a wrap. Thanks for sticking with me through this. I really have no way to explain how they go from this ending position to how they wake up in Election Day so I hope this will suffice. All I know is I don't like the idea that they might have rolled over after and fallen asleep that way; I'd rather they just did it subconsciously. In case anyone is wondering about the titles of these two stories, it's a Lifehouse song called First Time. Appropriate, no?

Still have some stuff to get typed up, and ideas to jot down. Haven't started on the Chip Reader part two yet (which, I'm sad to say, will probably be from Josh's POV and not a real sequel), and a story with a couple of bits of my head cannon that I'd like to get out into the world. We'll see how all that goes. I still have one I'm working on typing up while also writing it in a tiny notebook at work. Just trying to keep the juices flowing.