20 Hours of Smut: Sorkin Style, Drabble-A-Thon

[ninefish]

Not too long ago, in a beyondtheoval chat, there was discussion about the severe lack of smut lately. That's just wrong for so many reasons. Let's see if we can do something about that, shall we?

Inspired by (oh, let's face it, I just completely ripped her off) crushing83's Tri-Fandom-Drabble-a-Thon.

ETA: Thanks to all! The Smut-A-Thon is officially closed. Go

Comments

[ninefish]

5:00 - 5:59 pm

Moments Late, TWW, Toby - CJ/Andy, Rish

[soaked_in_stars]

He’s always thought the way CJ’s hands trembled for long minutes after she came was delicate, demure. He’d held those fingers between his own so many times, but now, watching as she tries to hide it busying herself with a coffee mug and a pen as she breezes into their 5:00 meeting, he’s overcome with the need to know who’s making her hands shake today. Whose body pressed her up against her office door, whose fingers slid inside her.

Andrea walks in, just a moment behind CJ, with swollen lips and a faint blush on her porcelain skin. He knows.

[ninefish]

6:00 - 6:59 pm

TWW, Number Nine, Katie/Gina, Arr

[ninefish]

“Come to brunch tomorrow,” Katie insisted. “We’ll sip mimosas and pretend we don’t have to work on Monday. Eleven o’clock?”

“Works for me,” Gina agreed quickly.

Brunch was seven hours, 8 orgasms and 2 bottles of champagne ago.

Now Katie lay propped on one arm, fingers caressing the length of Gina’s naked back. She leans to lick a kiss in the indentation at the delicate hollow at the base of her spine.

Gina’s soft moan turns to whimper when Katie’s hand eases between her thighs.

“God...you’re so wet,” Katie hums into her ear, and begins the coaxing of number nine.

[ninefish]

7:00 - 7:59 pm

Work, West Wing, Danny/Katie (blame BtO)

[athena4lynn]

Work didn't cross his mind when he pinned her to his hotel room door, hand between her thighs and mouth on hers. It mattered less when she ground herself against him.

It flitted around the back as he bent her over the counter outside the bathroom, skirt hitched up and panties wet from the stroke of his hand.

By the time he entered her, it had vanished again, pushed aside by the sight of her hands clenching against the mirror, and the push of her buttocks.

But when the phone rang at 7:43, it returned, leaving him just as breathless.

[ninefish]

8:00 - 8:59 pm

Dinner Break, TWW, CJ/Toby, en sea xvii

[sweetly_savage]

Note: post-ep(ish) for 18th & Potomac

The world is coming to an end, she thinks as Toby slams into her from behind. Her moans are muffled by the cushions on the couch. His grunts carry down to her quite easily.

He pounds into her like he has something to prove. But, she knows he has something to forget. They both do.

The VCR says it’s eight forty, and it will take them fifteen minutes to get back to the White House.

“Toby, we gotta go.”

She doesn’t come as he spills into her. But he promises to make it up to her later. She hopes so.

[ninefish]

9:00 - 9:59 pm

Separation of Powers (tWW, CJ/Evelyn Baker Lang, arr)

[projectcyborg]

Not many lovers can say the illicitness of their affairs is stipulated in the Constitution. They only call each other on their cell phones, numbers programmed as “unavailable” to preclude incriminating caller-ID. Today she answered to Evie’s terse summons: “My house, 9:15.” As she approached the doorstep, she mused that the idea of transgressing a foundational principle of Democracy itself rather excited her.

“Chief,” Evie greeted her, smirking. They should probably have tired of the graceless joke by now, but - given that moments later she was being thoroughly kissed, her back thudding against the wall - she couldn’t say she minded. As Evie’s fingers rucked up her skirt, traced the lace edging her thigh-highs, skimmed unerringly toward her panties, she replied, breathlessly, “Chief yourself.”

{ 123 - my perennial personal cheat, sorry! }

[ to pimp: here’s another crushing83-inspired drabble-a-thon ]