Prologue

It started months ago. Eight years of friendship followed by eight months of icy silence and both had finally grown a brain - well, Josh had grown one, Donna had always been smart - and gotten their act together. After all the years of unresolved sexual tension and frustration, sex was new and exciting.

They couldn't get enough of each other; couldn't keep their hands to themselves; couldn't go a day without kissing, sucking, touching, fucking. Both couldn't wait to get home and fall into bed. In the beginning, bed was where it all happened.

And you would think after resisting each other so long they'd be satisfied with plain, simple sex. But no.

Neither would reveal the circumstances surrounding the pronounced limp in Josh's swagger or the way Donna would squeal breathily whenever she sat down. When asked about the rashes on his arms and over his face, Josh would claim his allergies had flared up, and when Donna started whimpering in the middle of the Oval Office, it was widely publicized that she was suffering from a bout of flu.

They weren't believed but, in the absence of hard evidence, their weak excuses were accepted.

Neither was sure who first made the suggestion to spice things up. Both maintained it was the other and were prepared to swear to it in court. And it began with cookies.

~~

He lets himself into the apartment and drops his bag in the hall before calling, "Donna?"

"In here!" she yells back and he follows the smell of vanilla and chocolate into the kitchen where she's apparently... baking something.

"Whatcha doing?" he grins, surveying the complete mess of ingredients and equipment strewn across the counters, table, floor... in fact every flat surface seems to be covered with stuff.

She turns and blows an errant lock of hair from her face. A face which is covered with flour much like her blue shirt. And jeans. "Making cookies," she explains. "Isn't it obvious?"

"What's obvious is you're making a mess," he responds as he walks towards her, carefully avoiding the large puddle of milk on the floor.

"Maybe it looks like a mess but it's actually creative genius at work," she grins. "And if you make fun of my baking you won't get any."

He leans over to inspect the mixing bowl filled with her creative genius and frowns. "I'm not eating that."

"Well obviously not. I meant when they're cooked." She frowns, and slaps his hand which is wandering up her arm. "And now you're not getting any at all. I won't take cookery insults from you of all people. Master of the takeout menu!"

"Ahh but what if I did this?" he asks as he wraps his arms around her waist.

She tips her head to the side and regards him thoughtfully. "You think hugging me will get you some of my cookies?"

"Maybe not hugging," he admits, "but what if I were to do this as well?" He pulls her flush against his body and kisses her. Softly at first then, as her mouth parts to allow his wandering tongue access, harder and more urgently. His hands slide down her back to rest on her ass and he uses it as an opportunity to press her against his growing erection.

She sighs into his mouth as he rubs against her and, angling his head with her hands, she deepens the kiss. She tastes of vanilla and he idly wonders if she's been sampling her cooking. The thought, however, melts away when she starts making little purring noises.

He breaks away, breathing raggedly, and rests his forehead against hers to whisper, "Come to bed."

"I have to make cookies," she whispers back. "It's Margaret's birthday tomorrow."

He slides his fingers up over the curve of her ass, slipping under her shirt to rest on her skin, "They can wait, I can't." In an attempt to persuade her, he starts making tiny circles on the small of her back as he nibbles along her jaw.

She drops a kiss on his nose and shakes her head, "There are some in the oven and I have to stay and watch them. The last two batches were slightly overdone."

"Burnt isn't so bad," he says wheedlingly. "They'll survive."

"I refuse to let anyone see my less than perfect cookies, Josh. They'll be done in ten minutes or so. Then I have to cook the next ones." She pulls away from him and picks up the mixing bowl. "I added orange essence to this batch."

"That all sounds really nice and I'm sure Margaret will love them. But what if I can't wait ten minutes?" He takes the bowl from her, drops it on the counter and pushes her backwards. Then he captures her mouth again, coaxing it open with his tongue.

"You waited nearly nine years," she whispers between kisses.

"Which means I have to take as much as I can get now," he replies, slipping his hands back under her shirt; he distracts her with tiny sucking kisses down the curve of her neck as he works the shirt up, breaking away briefly to yank it over her head. He drops it to the floor and smiles triumphantly. "See, you're already half undressed now. We might as well go all the way."

"You think taking just my shirt off leaves me half undressed... oh!" she exclaims as his fingers flick the hook of her bra open. "What about my jeans, socks, shoes... underpants?" she adds, smirking as he yanks the straps from her shoulders, leaving her naked from the waist up.

"If I take them all off, you'll have to have sex with me," he states confidently, rocking his rapidly swelling erection against her leg. "Now."

"In ten minutes," she says firmly. "I need to keep an eye on the cookies. Then we can have sex. Then I have to cook the rest of them."

"I said I didn't want to wait ten minutes," he whines, trapping her body between his and the kitchen counter. His fingers slip over her breasts, circling the hardening nipples. "I can be done in three. One minute to get to the bedroom and get naked. One minute to finish. One minute to get dressed again."

She pushes his wandering hands away with a snort of laughter. "What about me in your equation?"

"One minute for you then," he agrees, hands dragging down her stomach and past the waistband of her jeans to attack the buttons. "Two, if you really need them."

"And just for that you're going to have to wait until I'm done baking. The cookies come first."

"You're going to give the cookies an orgasm?" he smirks as he flips each button open; when he reaches the final one he hooks his hands into the waistband and pulls her jeans down over her hips, along with her underwear. "I don't know how I feel about you cheating on me like that... hey look, you're almost naked now."

She smacks the top of his head in a huff of rage as he kneels on the floor. "That was the worst joke I think you've ever made. And I don't know what you're planning to do down there, but it's not going to work."

"I beg to differ," he murmurs, his fingers holding her hips firmly. "I'll get you done in two minutes. You can even time me."

"I don't have a stopwatch," she responds, inhaling sharply as his mouth makes contact with the skin along her inner thigh. A soft grunt when his tongue brushes along the crease where thigh meets hip and she adds, "Your knees are going to hurt."

He sits back on his heels to look up at her. "If we do it here, we can make sure the cookies don't burn."

"You want to have sex with me in the kitchen?" she wrinkles her nose in disgust. "You don't think that's a little unhygienic?"

"For us or for the flour, eggs and butter lying around?" he laughs. "Donna, you think this place could get any dirtier?" When she makes a move to smack him again, he slips the fingers of his right hand between her legs.

"Um..." she moans softly, reaching back to hold onto the edge of the counter as his thumb gently rubs across her clit. "God, oh... it depends on what kind of sex we're going to be having."

"Well I thought I'd spend some quality time down here playing with this," he shrugs, and idly pinches her clit again, grinning insanely at her loud squeak. His erection swells as she squeaks again, and he tries to ignore the growing pressure.

"I need to keep an eye on the cookies," she whimpers as his fingers lightly stroke and he knows her resolve is almost cracked.

He shrugs again, removes his hand from between her legs, and says, "So I should stop playing with your clit so you can watch them without distraction? Or should we just go right ahead and have sex here in the kitchen? You can still keep an eye on them but we can both have fun while you do."

"You've already stopped playing with it. Do you realize that we've only ever done it in a bed before?"

"Yeah, the thought had occurred to me," he says nonchalantly. "Once or twice."

"Oh really?" she raises her eyebrows and gives him a wide toothy grin. "So I guess we're ready for the other kind of sex."

"Which kind would that be?" He rises to his feet before wrapping his arms around her waist again. "And you realize now you're naked and I'm not."

"I'm acutely aware of the fact," she grins. "I'm also aware of the fact that your cock is about to make a break for freedom from your pants. So the question for you is: do you realize that these counters are just the right height..."

"I like the way you think," he murmurs into her neck. He grasps her waist and, with a quick heave, hoists her onto the surface of the counter. Resting his hands on her naked thighs he stares at her, eyes darkening with lust. "God, that's... perfect. Now what?"

"Take my pants off," she demands, a desperation in her voice which makes him even harder. "Quickly, Josh. We only have six minutes before the cookies need to come out of the oven."

"Shut up about the cookies," he growls, bending over to divest her of her sneakers and the pants bunched around her ankles. He leaves her socks on, being no obstacle to his plans, and pushes her knees apart with his palms.

"I get to come first though," she says. "You know what that means..."

He raises a hand, wiggles his fingers at her, and says with a smirk, "Say hello to your five best friends."

"Hello," she grins. "Five minutes, Josh."

"Better get started then," he agrees, dropping his hand back down to her leg. He trails his fingers along the top of her thighs, cocks an eyebrow, and says, "Just as long as when you're done, you do me." When she rolls her eyes he quickly adds, "I'm only trying to get my fair share here!"

"You realize you're wasting time?"

"No, because I can talk and do this at the same time," he grins as he slides two fingers deep inside her, pressing his thumb firmly against her clit again.

"You are indeed... ohhh, um... talented," she gasps, closing her eyes as his fingers push further. "But, as I said, time is running out. Oh God Josh, and um, time, yes. Cookies! Oh God... you know I'll be done a lot faster if you use your mouth."

He twists his fingers in time with the flicking of his thumb against her clit and raises his eyebrows in amusement. "Really?"

"Much, much faster, "she nods frantically. "Godddd."

He rubs his thumb over her clit, pauses, rubs again. "You want me to put my face near a dirty counter?"

"It's not dirty. Just has some flour... egg... oh good God, Josh, don't stop."

"Dirty counter," he reminds her and pulls his fingers away.

"I said, don't stop!" She opens her eyes and glares at him. "And this is the same counter that my naked butt is currently sitting on. You have a problem with that?" With a wiggle of discomfort she mutters, "I think I'm stuck to some egg actually."

"Let me help you with that," he smiles, pulling her forward to rest on the edge of the counter. "Easier access for me now."

"Down you go then," she orders quickly, desperate to have him continue. "You've got maybe four minutes until the oven timer goes off."

"I can get you off in two," he smirks, bending over. He slides his arms under her legs, rests his wrists over her hipbones, and pulls her thighs apart with his fingers. "I knew you cared more about Margaret's cookies than having a good long orgasm."

"Would you not say her name while your face is down there?" she begs. "You've got four minutes. Go!"

"I said two," he blows softly on her moist flesh and grins as the cool air makes her muscles twitch. "So that leaves two minutes for you to reciprocate. Then I'm going to have myself a cookie."

"Shut up, shut up, shut up NOW!" she roars in frustration. "SHUT UP!"

"Yes Ma'am," he smirks again then flicks his tongue out, swiping it quickly across her clit. She grunts softly and, when he crouches down to get better access, she lifts her knees, hooking them over his shoulders.

Her legs lie across his back and, as she uses them to bring him closer, his tongue flicks out again. The new position allows her to tip her pelvis up and she leans her head against the overhead cabinet as his mouth finally closes over her clit. "God."

"Shh," he hums and her legs jerk against his back; he groans against her flesh and she moans in response. He presses his tongue to her clit, tasting her fully and, when she grabs the back of his head to support herself, he lets her direct his movements.

"Oh God, oh God," she breathes. Over and over. The frantic repetition of her words spur him on and he slides his tongue deep inside, banging his nose against her clit, thrusting his face forward and backwards as he sucks. She tastes smooth and sweet, slightly sour. He loves the taste, he could stay down here all day, but when she's done it'll be his go and his erection has grown to almost painful proportions. He never realized sucking her off in the kitchen could be such a turn on.

Evidently, she's finding it just as much of a turn on as he is. Her whimpers are soft and breathy at first as she pushes against his tongue but as he increases speed they segue into short, sharp grunts of pleasure. She cradles his head gently, but with just enough pressure to prohibit him from moving away, and he alternates between sucking and licking her clit.

His hands hold her hips in place, moving her only when he wants, rocking her back and forth in time with his mouth. He can feel her orgasm building; feel the gentle shake of her legs. Her fingers twine through his hair, knotting through, urging his head closer.

She rests her head against the cabinet, trying not to scream too loudly as she feels an orgasm build through her body. Right on the edge, nearly there, almost... "Close," she whines breathlessly. "Josh."

The sound of his name, her voice so desperate and urgent, sends a jolt straight to his cock and he realizes that unless he finishes her off quickly, he's going to come in his pants and miss out on his own reward.

"Josh," she hisses again, and he opens his mouth wider, scraping his teeth over her clit as he flicks his tongue in and out. He pulls her hips forward, increases his speed and suddenly she's coming. The vibrations slide through his mouth and he continues to suck firmly as her legs bounce on his back, hips thrusting forward with the force.

She cries out as her orgasm washes over her; her whole body shudders with the intensity and she jerks backwards against the overhead cabinet.

He hears the crack of bone hitting laminate; feels her muscles completely relax. When, coupled with a groan of pain, her hands slip from his hair and her body slumps over, he raises his head in alarm.

She's fallen sideways onto the counter. Unmoving. Silent. Eyes closed.

Death by cunnilingus.

He always knew his mouth was going to get him into trouble one day.