West Wing Fic: Chasing Away the Chills
8/7/03
Chasing Away the Chills
Disclaimer: The only thing I own is a minivan with a wonky piston. Unlike Leo, whose pistons are working just fine.
AN: Totally for Maeve. It's short cause I promised her she would have something in the morning. It's exactly 300 words, whatever you call that!
Spoilers: Jordan and if you like her you might want to turn back now.
Pairing: Leo and Margaret, well DUH!!!!
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He slid warm against the sheets. He was warm; she was warm. No, she was... she was heat, his heat.
He had forgotten. He had forgotten what warmth felt like in bed, against his skin, wrapped around him.
He smiled, unknowingly, as her red hair spread across his naked chest. Even her hair was warm and smelled of cinnamon, warm cinnamon like baked in an apple cobbler.
The last time he had made love... no, he had had sex.
He hadn't made love for years, at least not until tonight.
But, the last time he had sex, he had been cold.
The woman in the bed with him had been... well... she had been frigid and distant. She had preformed the same way she did in court. With precision and skill, but the passion she had facing a jury was nonexistent as he faced him in the dark of his hotel room.
Maybe that was the difference.
Even though she had an apartment, a home, they had always been at his sterile, generic hotel room.
No, that wasn't it. It was that there was no passion, no chemistry, no love between them.
The woman currently laying in his arms was filled with passion, with love. He saw it every time he glanced across the office to her. He felt it as she shifted against him. He felt it in his soul.
Suddenly her head eased off his chest, and her eyes locked with his, "What are you thinking about, Leo?"
He sighed and rolled her onto her back, "Warmth, Margaret. Your warmth has chased all my chills away."
She laughed, a deep throaty laugh, "Even the artic winds named Jordan?"
"Oh, god, yes," he smiled as he lowered himself to her, knowing that she could and would warm him up.
Chasing Away the Chills
Disclaimer: The only thing I own is a minivan with a wonky piston. Unlike Leo, whose pistons are working just fine.
AN: Totally for Maeve. It's short cause I promised her she would have something in the morning. It's exactly 300 words, whatever you call that!
Spoilers: Jordan and if you like her you might want to turn back now.
Pairing: Leo and Margaret, well DUH!!!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He slid warm against the sheets. He was warm; she was warm. No, she was... she was heat, his heat.
He had forgotten. He had forgotten what warmth felt like in bed, against his skin, wrapped around him.
He smiled, unknowingly, as her red hair spread across his naked chest. Even her hair was warm and smelled of cinnamon, warm cinnamon like baked in an apple cobbler.
The last time he had made love... no, he had had sex.
He hadn't made love for years, at least not until tonight.
But, the last time he had sex, he had been cold.
The woman in the bed with him had been... well... she had been frigid and distant. She had preformed the same way she did in court. With precision and skill, but the passion she had facing a jury was nonexistent as he faced him in the dark of his hotel room.
Maybe that was the difference.
Even though she had an apartment, a home, they had always been at his sterile, generic hotel room.
No, that wasn't it. It was that there was no passion, no chemistry, no love between them.
The woman currently laying in his arms was filled with passion, with love. He saw it every time he glanced across the office to her. He felt it as she shifted against him. He felt it in his soul.
Suddenly her head eased off his chest, and her eyes locked with his, "What are you thinking about, Leo?"
He sighed and rolled her onto her back, "Warmth, Margaret. Your warmth has chased all my chills away."
She laughed, a deep throaty laugh, "Even the artic winds named Jordan?"
"Oh, god, yes," he smiled as he lowered himself to her, knowing that she could and would warm him up.