Title: Dare to Dream (of What Shouldn't Come True)
Author: Michelle K. (CageyGrl@yahoo.com)
Site: http://glimmershine.tripod.com
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Donna/Amy
Spoilers: "Commencement"
Summary: You'll both be to blame.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue.

*

Dare to Dream (of What Shouldn't Come True) by Michelle K.

One night, you'll follow her through the halls. "I need to talk to you," you'll say.

"What about?" She'll seem disinterested, but you won't care. She's never been easy to read, bouncing between flirting and accusations. And, sure enough, she'll glance at you with a glint in her eye, like she's about to shove her tongue down your throat.

She won't.

"Things," you'll say.

"Things."

"Yes." You'll stay silent until after you're both in her office, after she's carefully closed her doors. "You don't know me, Amy." She won't say anything, so you'll continue. "I'm not in love with Josh."

"You already told me that," she'll point out, bored again. "Look, I don't really care. Josh and I aren't together anymore. Go and do what you will with him." The tension in her voice will be very noticeable.

"I'm not in love with Josh," you'll repeat.

Her lips will bear the hint of a smile. "Why do you want to keep telling me that?" she'll ask, moving towards you.

"I think you know," you'll say. Her eyes will betray a glimmer of recognition. When you kiss her, you'll push her hard against the wall. You won't want to be gentle with her.

(How dare she act like she knows you better than you know yourself. How dare she spend all of her time talking about Josh, then acting like you're the one with an obsession. How dare she flirt with you, then pretend she doesn't know what she's doing. How dare she make you want her.

How. Dare. She.)

She'll grab onto the back of your head as she pushes her tongue into your mouth. There will be no hesitation, like she *knew* this was going to happen. *Knew* that you'd come for her. It'll make you angry, angrier than her misconceptions about your relationship with Josh. You'll be tempted to push her away, tell her to go to hell, walk out of her office.

You won't.

She'll suck on your bottom lip, drawing out the parting of your mouths. You'll be breathless, and you'll hate yourself. You'll hate her, too, but less so.

A deep breath, then a slow exhalation that tickles your chin. "Don't you want to know if I'm in love with him?"

"I didn't ask, did I?"

For once, she'll look bewildered. You'll be proud that you have the power to confuse her, that she's not always so cool and calm. Then she'll smirk, breaking the spell of your self-delusion. "No, you didn't," she'll say. "So I guess you'll never know."

You'll tell yourself that you don't care.

You will.

"Stop talking about him." You'll run your tongue along your swollen lips before kissing her again. Her hands will grip onto the back of your shirt, pulling your bodies closer. You'll groan at the contact. "Do you want this?" Your voice won't be as sure as you would've wished.

She won't seem to notice.

"You gave up your chance for questions," she'll say as she begins to unbutton your blouse.

You'll raise an eyebrow. "Can I at least ask if we should do this here?" It won't be a serious inquiry. You don't care where; you would've let this happen in the bullpen, but there hadn't been enough time. And you hadn't worked up enough indignation to be so bold. "What if someone walks in?" you'll add.

She won't answer.

That, at least, you won't hold against her.

She'll push your shirt down your shoulders, letting it fall to the ground. She'll unhook your bra, slide it off in a fluid motion. Your nipples will be hard. She'll smile.

(How dare she revel in your attraction to her. How dare she be so aloof. How dare she treat you as her amusement. How dare she not touch you.

How. Dare. She.)

You'll kiss her again as you take one of her hands in your own. You'll place it on your breast, but she'll take the initiative to squeeze it softly, pinch your nipple with a thumb and a finger. Your moan will turn into a sigh as her palm slides against other parts of your exposed flesh.

You'll throw your head back, wonder why you're doing this. Is it just simple desire? Anger bubbled over? The beginning of love more fucked up than any you have ever known?

You'll just know that it can't be about him -- at least not from your end.

Your hands will move to her waist, fingers undoing her pants and pushing them down. After she steps out of them, you'll slip a hand between her legs, press against the damp spot in her panties.

She'll gasp, and you'll feel a rush.

A little voice in the back of your head will tell you that you still have time; you can stop this.

You won't.

You'll fall to your knees in front of her, open and close your mouth around the evidence of her arousal.

You'll be surprised at how much you want to do this.

(How dare you want this. How dare you betray him. How dare you give in to her. How dare you give in to yourself.

How. Dare. You.)

You'll pull down her panties as she thrusts her pelvis toward you. You won't touch her with your tongue, choosing instead to push three fingers inside her.

She'll groan, body arching as you pump your digits. It won't be hearts and flowers and soft light erotica; it'll be fucking. The smell of sex will be heavier than the force of her weight against your hand. You'll brush your tongue against her clit, listen to her full-throated moan. Hard licks and curling fingers will be what it takes to make her come.

She won't say your name. You won't move from your position on the floor.

After she slides down the wall, she'll kiss you. It'll be soft, *nice.* You'll find yourself wanting this to mean something.

"Are you in love with Josh?" you'll ask.

"You lost your question asking privileges," she'll mumble with the hint of a smile. "Already told you that."

"Don't be cute," you'll snap.

Her smile will disappear. "You think I'd be doing this if I was in love with Josh?"

You won't know, but you won't challenge her. She'll kiss you again as her fingers slip down your bare abdomen.

She'll undo your pants, push her hand inside. When she finds your clit, she'll pinch it. You'll groan, grab the back of her blouse. Her hand will move in tight circles as her mouth slides to your neck. You'll feel like you're about to fall, but something will keep you steady.

When you come, all you'll be able to say is her name. For a moment, it'll feel like Josh doesn't exist.

(How dare you forget him. How dare you not love him. How dare you not be who everyone expects you to be.

How. Dare. You.)

After she pulls her hand away, you'll feel something that you can't describe, a weird mix of several emotions.

It won't feel as scary as you would've thought.

She will kiss you again, trailing her lips down your neck, across your collarbone. She'll invite you back to her place after she kisses your shoulder.

"Yeah," you'll say.

(How dare she keep this going. How dare you agree.

How. Dare. Both of you.)

You'll kiss her again, taste the shared guilt.

You won't care.

END

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