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Many Times Over	By : MichelleK Category: S through Z > West Wing Views: 2562 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The West Wing, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Many Times Over
- 1
Title: Many Times Over [1/1]

Author: Michelle K. [CageyGrl@yahoo.com]

Rating: NC-17

Site: http://glimmershine.tripod.com

Archive: List archives. Anyone else, ask.

Pairing: Margaret/Donna

Summary: "You need her." [post-ep for 'Posse Comitatus']
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. Get out your 'surprised' Crayolas and color yourselves in.
*
You're back home after what was supposed to be a 'fun' night in New York. You're back home, watching news reports about death and missing planes, and you feel lonely and depressed.
And you need something. Someone.
You need her.
*
The first time you saw Donna, you knew that you liked her. She was nice, vibrant, and funny. You felt the beginnings of a high school-esque crush. But you knew she couldn't be interested. She had left a boyfriend back in Wisin, in, and she didn't look at you in an interested way. She looked at you like a friend. And you became that.
Along the campaign trail, you ended up sharing a room together. It wasn't easy being with her without *being* with her. Yes, it was just like high school, just like laying on a bed with your best friend while she cooed about her boyfriend.
It wasn't easy.
But you had self control. You managed.
But one night, while the two of you were sitting on her bed spinning idle gossip - ("So, Mandy's left again?" "Josh and Sam were fighting about something, or so I heard." "I think something is going on between CJ and Toby.") - you felt overwhelmed with the desire to kiss her.
You didn't give in.
Instead, she kissed you. You kissed back. And kisses gave way to fingers on skin; which gave way to tongues and the smell of sex.
You fell asleep next to her, bodies touching lightly. It felt comfortable, even though you didn't know what it meant. Was she experimenting? Lonely? As infatuated as you were?
You didn't know. You didn't care. But you loved the feel of her skin against yours.
You were awoken the next morning by Donna's voice. She wasn't talking to you - she was on the phone, presumably to her mother or her ex-boyfriend, both of whom seemed to be hounding her. You went back to sleep.
When you woke again, you found a note from Donna telling you that she was going to try to work things out with Tom.
You almost cried. But you knew it was stupid to cry over a girl you just met. A girl who basically turned out to be a one-night-stand.
You didn't cry. You had self-control.
You managed.
When she made her return a little more than a week later, you thought you couldn't breathe. Somehow, you did manage to breathe, but you didn't talk to her. Until she cornered you and said, "I'm sorry."
"There's nothing to be sorry for," you said. You almost said, 'It was just sex. It didn't mean anything,' but you knew it wouldn't sound right.
"I didn't leave because of you--"
"I know," you said, although you really had no clue. How could you know her motivations? How could you be sure that she wasn't scared of possibly being gay?
"I like you, Margaret. We can still be friends, right?"
You wanted to say no, if only because you knew you'd have trouble being 'just friends' with her. But, instead, you said, "Yes. Of course we can."
You had self-control. You knew you could manage.
Donna would just be your friend.
And you were 'just friends' for a few weeks, until a fundraiser made you both a little drunk. You had initiated it then, against your better judgement. It was more rushed than the first time, since you both had the advantage of knowing each other's bodies. It was exhilarating.
The next day, you were friends again.
After that, you figured out how to strike a balance. How to meld friendship with sex, how to keep things personal without making them serious. So, you'd sleep with her now and again whenever you both weren't in a relationship - which was most of the time - while exchanging gossip in the mess. It was perfect.
Then, you realized that parts of you - irrational parts of you - were treating this like a relationship. You felt like you were in love.
Next time she made a move, you said you weren't in the mood. The time after that, you told her, "I don't think we should sleep together anymore."
She hadn't fought with you, but you were partly pleased by the sad look on her face. 'Maybe,' you thought, 'this *does* mean something.' But, before the thoughts became words, actions, truth, something more than idle musings -
Before you could thrust yourself into a higher standing -
Cliff entered the picture.
And you decided it wasn't meant to be.
*
Now, you don't care about fate. You certainly don't care about Cliff. You just need something to hold on to; you need one one to comfort you.
You need your friend; you need the woman who knows how to touch you. You need her.
You call her and she answers on the first ring. She's seen the news reports, she says. You tell her you can't be alone.
She says, "You don't have to be."
*
She wraps her arms around you as soon as you enter the door. The embrace is halfway between that of a friend and that of a lover. You think it makes sense, all things considered.
"Are you okay?" she whispers in your ear.
"I'm better now," you admit, even th you your voice is hoarse and you still feel an odd sense of hollowness.
She kisses you on the mouth, lips tender against yours. It's happening again, even though you thought it never would. Even though you've been through months of being 'just friends.'
It was over, and now her hands are sliding up your dress.
You were the one who said this should stop.
You were afraid that you were falling in love with her. And she was someone who loved you as a friend, a straight girl dipping her toe into the pool of lesbianism.
You didn't want this to get too complicated.
And maybe all of that is still true; maybe this could get complicated -
But you don't stop her.
*
She takes you to her bed. She has a different blanket than last time; you realize that the last time was eight months ago.
Her body's pressed against yours now. She's looking down at you when she pushes a strand of hair out of your face. "I've missed you," she says.
"I've missed you, too," you reply truthfully. You wonder if she ever thought about you when she was with Cliff. But you don't ask her - you don't know if you want to hear the answer.
Her mouth begins to travel your body. Hair falls against your skin - it tickles a little, but you're not in the mood to laugh. You moan as her tongue swirls around your nipple; cry out as her lips close around the hard nub.
You've missed her so much.
She kisses her way down your stomach. There's a moment of hesitation as her body settles in-between your thighs. Then, another kiss, one that makes a slight wave of feeling go through your body.
Donna slips her tongue inside you, exploring your sex. Finally, she flicks softly at your clitoris. Your body arches as her tongue moves faster and harder. You moan, and her lips close around you.
But you want her closer. You want to feel her, see her. And you say, "Stop."
She lifts her head up, face wearing that 'I screwed up, didn't I?' look of embarrassment. "I'm sorry. Am I doing something wrong?"
"No," you say, and you wonder if she could ever do anything wrong in your eyes. "I just want you here. Come here, okay?"
She doesn't say anything. But, soon, her body's close to yours again. When she brings her lips to yours, her mouth tastes like salt and sex, and you like that she's not shy about such things anymore. She was shy when this first began, always covering her breasts and unsure of how to kiss you.
But that was then and this is now. And now, she's kissing you in a way that's forceful without be hard, gentle without being chaste.
You've missed her.
Her tongue is still entwined with yours as she slides a finger inside you. You grip onto her back as your hips arch towards her hand.
Another finger slides inside you as her thumb quickly finds your clitoris. You already feel climax building inside you. You've done this often enough that she knows what to do to you.
And you've really missed that shorthand, that way you have of understanding each other in and out of bed.
Your fingers dig deeper into her skin when you come; for some reason, you hope that you're leaving a mark on her.
Her body sinks onto yours when she kisses you. You notice the soft moan that reverberates through your mouth as your flesh presses together. She always liked this, what she once dubbed, 'bare naked kissing.' So you let her stay right where she is, body half on top of your own, mouth locked surely with yours.
You start to run your fingers over her back, lingering at the soft curve of her behind. She moans again as her body grinds against you. You feel her wetness against your leg, so you press back against her.
"Margaret," she gasps as she takes her mouth away from yours.
You've missed the way she says your name.
Gently, you roll over until she's on her back. You settle yourself on your side and take in her body. Soft, pale, as beautiful as you recall.
You let your hand linger on her stomach, feeling the small rise and fall as she breathes. You kiss her lips softly before letting your mouth travel her body. Her thighs fall open as you travel lower.
She whimpers when you settle yourself between her legs. When you explore her with your tongue, whimpers intersperse with moans. She tastes as bittersweet as you remember.
You wonder if you'll ever forget anything about her.
When she comes, her body arches and she cries out your name. You take her down from her orgasm with the continuing pressure of your tongue and a light touch on her outer thigh.
"C'mere," she says, a slight pleading to her voice.
You comply, settling your body next to hers. She kisses you, and you kiss back. She pulls the blanket over you and moves closer. She drapes an arm over your stomach as she plants a kiss on your shoulder.
"You know," she says, "I don't think that we shohavehave to miss each other."
"Maybe you're right," you say, although you're not quite sure what you're agreeing to. Permanence? Casual sex on a regular basis? Matching wedding gowns?
You have no clue, but you think that it's very possible that this will become complicated. On the other hand, that might not be such a bad thing.
You just know that you have her now, even if it's only momentary. Even if you'll just be 'good friends' in the morning. Even if it's only for tonight -
Tonight's just enough. Because of her and *this* and everything that's happened before.
Tonight could be enough. But you hope it won't have to be. Because you're sure you'll need more of her than just this.
You just hope that she's willing to give it.
THE END
- 1
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Many Times Over