AUTHOR: Julian Lee
FANDOM: West Wing
PAIRING: Will Bailey/Lord John Marbury
ARCHIVE: Yes to list archives; others please ask.
DISCLAIMER: Aaron Sorkin created them, but he abandonded them by the roadside, & I happened by, & they said, "Julian! Take us home with you!" Well, OK, that last part didn't happen. So I guess they're still not mine, even if Sork doesn't want them anymore.
SUMMARY: It's been raining all night at the White House.
NOTES: This is what Perpetual Motion wanted for her birthday, and the world can never have enough wet Joshua Malina. So Happy Birthday, darling. Takes place early in the 5th season, I guess - before Toby drop-kicked Will to the OEOB.
Pounce by Julian Lee
"You can't catch me!" Laughing, Elsie dances away, rain sliding down her face, plastering her hair against the side of her head.
Will plants his hands on his hips. "I'm not even going to try." She's so brilliant and beautiful, his stepsister, here in the darkness, lit by the floodlights that illuminate the White House, and sometimes it just catches him like this - how *proud* he is of her.
Will turns his head. His hands fall from his hips when he sees O'Rourke standing a respectful distance away, shielding her cuff mic from the rain. "Hey, O'Rourke."
The agent smiles politely. "I'm sorry, sir," she says, "but Mr. McGarry has requested that you get your 'crazed, immature ass' back into the building."
Will pushes a drowned clump of hair off his forehead. "That's a direct quote, isn't it?"
O'Rourke nods. "Yes, sir."
"Does he want me in his office?"
"I believe so, sir."
Will sighs. "On my way, then." He waves to Elsie, and she bounds over. "I've been summonsed to Leo's office. I'm going back in."
She grins up at him. "Okay, big brother."
He grins back. "You gonna keep spinning?"
"For a couple more minutes." Elsie waves at O'Rourke. "Hi, Lil."
Again the perfectly trained polite smile. "Good evening, Ms. Snuffin."
Laughing, Elsie spins away again.
Will follows O'Rourke inside, shaking the water out of his hair as discreetly as he can, but it's a useless maneuver. His hair is plastered to his head and his shirt and pants to his body. He grimaces as he thinks of the look that's going to be on Leo's face when he gets to the office. Pulling the hem of his shirt from his pants, Will wipes his glasses on them. It doesn't help much, but at least he can see again. He tucks the shirt in as he rounds the corner to Leo's office. "Hi, Margaret."
Margaret looks him over and shakes her head. "He thinks you're crazy, you know."
"He's not the first." He breezes past her desk and into the office. "You wanted to see me, Leo?"
"What the hell are you doing, running around in the rain?"
"Reliving my adolescence. Elsie and I used to--" Will swallows the rest of his sentence.
Leo isn't alone. Leo is seldom alone, but this...this dark, coiled energy, this form that radiates sex and insanity in equal measures - this is too much to encounter without warning.
"Will?" Leo peers up at him. "You okay?"
"No. I mean, yeah, I--" He takes a deep breath. "Hello, Ambassador."
Slouched in the corner of Leo's couch, right foot crossed over left knee, arms sprawled along the back of the couch, John Marbury is the picture of decadence, and he looks like he *owns* Leo's office. He doesn't move when Will addresses him, just flicks his eyes all the way down Will's body and then back up again. Will almost spontaneously combusts. "Good evening, Mr. Bailey," he says softly.
Will forces his eyes to Leo before he burns up in Marbury's heated gaze. "What did you need, Leo?"
"The President wants you to draft some remarks for Tuesday's meeting with the union leaders."
Will runs a hand down his tie. "Just me? Because - and of course I'll do it, because I serve at the pleasure of the President - but Toby's still sulking a little about--"
"And when Toby's over his little snit," Leo says, voice brusque, "he'll come help you write it. Until that happens, you write the remarks."
"Of course." Will nods. "Thank you, Leo." He backs out of the office, unable to turn away from Marbury. "Ambassador."
Again the scorching once-over. "Mr. Bailey."
Will races back to his office, feet catching each other half a dozen times along the way. Safe behind his door again, he leans the back of his head on it and bangs his fists against it. "God *damn* it."
Of all the things - of every damned thing in the *world* that Will does not need now-- He's been *so* good. He's barely *looked* at another man since he left California. And now, John Marbury is in the West Wing. Well, of course Will always knew he might be; he *is* the British ambassador and still one of the world's foremost experts on India/Pakistan relations, which are currently in the process of falling apart. Which are always in the process of falling apart, but now more than usual. But Marbury's *in* the West Wing. How can Will be expected to resist temptation put that closely in front of his fingers?
"Damn it," he says again. Pulling his door open again in case Toby gets over himself sooner rather than later, Will crosses to his desk and pulls his gym bag off the floor. There's a towel in it somewhere...
"Don't do that."
Will freezes, back to the door, towel in hand. He hears the soft click of Marbury shutting the office door and shudders. "Don’t do what, Your Lordship?"
"Don't do *that,* for one thing," Marbury says testily, his voice coming closer. Will can barely breathe. "And don't dry off." Marbury's fingers close around Will's arm, and before Will has time to protest or break free, Marbury's tongue is swiping a raindrop from his neck.
"Ambassador Marbury--" Will grits out through teeth clenched so tightly he's sure they're going to grind themselves down to nothing.
"For heaven's sake, William," Marbury says, sliding his hand into Will's soaked hair, "is that all the farther we've progressed, you and I?"
"Yes, it is!" Yanking away from Marbury's hand, Will storms to the front of his office. "Do you see? Solid window." He waves out into the bullpen. No one there just now, thank God - if anyone had seen Marbury *licking* his *neck,* for God's sake-- "A solid window that overlooks the White House Communications bullpen. We don't *do* this here."
Coming to stand beside him, Marbury pulls the cord on Will's window blinds, and they whoosh shut. The bullpen disappears. Will shudders again as Marbury bends close to his ear. "Oh, but we do," he whispers. He draws back, eyes glittering, and Will can't find the words - can't *form* the words - that will let him break free of this man's spell.
Marbury is a wizard. Marbury has powers. Will's desires and frustrations spill out into the only word left in his brain - "John--"
John pounces. There's no other word for it, with his tongue plunging between Will's lips and his hands sliding through Will's hair. Will groans, and his towel falls to the floor. He wraps his arms around John's waist, one hand at the small of John's back, the other sliding up his spine. John's tongue in his mouth is hot and slick and demanding, and Will is giving in - Will is *falling* in - dropping his hands to John's ass to drag him closer.
The friction is too much, and both men hiss. John draws his mouth off Will's and stares into his eyes, pupils dilated, face flushed. "William--"
"If they catch us now, I lose my job," Will murmurs, dropping his head to bite the juncture of John's neck and shoulder, just visible above the collar of his hand-tailored blue dress shirt. "For God's sake, make it worth my while."
John gives a laugh so low, and raspy, and *dirty* that Will almost comes right there, just from the sound of it. He slowly slides his hands out of Will's hair and down the sides of Will's neck. They're still wet from the water in Will's hair, and Will gasps at sensation of that wetness on his skin. He tugs John's ass again and rocks his hips against the other man's, in case John's forgotten that there's a crisis underway.
John pauses, eyelids fluttering shut. His hands, shaking a little, drop to the waist of Will's pants and fumble at the button. After three futile attempts he hisses, "Bloody American tailors."
Will laughs and moves John's hands away, taking care of the button himself. But when he moves toward the zipper, John catches Will's hand in one of his and uses his other to lower the zipper so slowly Will can *feel* the last of his brain cells fall away. "Don't tease."
John kisses him so hard his teeth ache. "Never," he whispers and wraps his hand around Will's cock.
Will bucks, demanding more of the warmth and the wet - how are John's hands still wet? **I must have been in the rain longer than I thought** is the closest Will can get to a coherent thought as John's hand strokes him firmly, certainly.
Will frees his hand from John's and moves it over every inch of the other man he can reach - his arms, his back, his ass. When Will slips his fingers beneath the waistband of John's pants, John gasps and bites his lip, but the rhythm of his hand doesn't falter. Will works his hand lower and leans up to whisper in John's ear, "Faster." John groans and speeds up. Will had forgotten. Forgotten what it does to John to have someone giving *him* orders. "Harder," Will whispers, the breathless harshness of his voice making him sound even more demanding.
Faster, and harder, and - oh, god - more, and Will feels the heat pooling at the base of his spine, spreading through his body, and he's so close. Every nerve ending in his body is on fire and begging. He grabs John's face in both hands and stares into his wild eyes. "Kiss me," he demands. John's mouth crushes his, and his tongue touches a spark to Will's, and it's over - Will is coming, pulsing over John's hand, his cries stifled against John's mouth.
Will tears his mouth away because he needs to breathe, needs to suck in burning lungfuls of air and will his heartbeat back to normal. Leaning down, John picks up the abandoned towel and wipes his hands. Before John gets a chance to fully recompose himself, Will presses the heel of his hand against John's erection. John stiffens and puts his hand over Will's. "We need to take care of this," Will whispers. "We wouldn't want to cause an international incident."
John chuckles roughly; he always has been inexplicably indulgent of Will's post-coital bad jokes. He leans forward for a quick kiss. "I believe it already *is* an international incident, William."
Will drags his hand up the front of John's pants, drawing another strangled gasp from the other man. He grins and reaches for John's zipper.
There's a knock at the door. "Will? You in there?"
John freezes. Will swears. "My sister," he groans.
"Get rid of her," John says.
"Yeah, right." Will rolls his eyes. "I take it you've never met her." He takes his hand from John's pants, which earns him a frustrated moan. "I'm sorry," he says, puts his own pants back in order and pushes up his glasses - which are doing fairly well, considering what he's just been through. He moves to the door and opens it just enough to see Elsie. "Hi."
Elsie tries to look around him, but he puts his body between her and the rest of the office. She raises her eyebrows but stops trying to see into the office. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. That Leo didn't eat you or anything."
"I'm all in one piece. Not eaten in any way." There is, perhaps, a coughing fit going on behind him, but he's not paying attention to that. "So you can go back to...whatever vitally important thing you were helping Mrs. Bartlet do."
"I was on a coffee run," she says.
"See," he says, nodding. "Vitally important. Thanks for stopping by, though."
"Sure." Elsie nods. "No problem." Then she grins, and Will knows he's given himself away somehow. Or maybe it's not so much that he's given himself away as that he's always been as transparent as plate glass to Elsie. "Is this how we're handling diplomatic relations now?"
Will groans and rests his forehead against the edge of his door. "Good night, Elsie."
"Good night, big brother," she says cheerily, kissing him on the cheek. "Good night, Lord Marbury!"
Tomorrow - tomorrow they will sit down, and Elsie *will* tell him how she knew who was in his office and what they'd been doing. For tonight, there's a *very* stunned ambassador standing in the middle of his office. Will closes the door and turns hesitantly to John.
To his credit, John only looks a *little* shocked. "Your sister?"
"Stepsister." Will nods. "She works for the First Lady."
"Is there any chance she'd like to come work for me, instead?"
Will laughs. "I doubt it. You'd have to talk to her about that, though." He moves across the office and takes John's hands. "Sorry about the interruption," he says, and kisses John. "Where were we?"
John sighs. "As much as my body would dearly love for you to complete what you started, William, my brain has been too disturbed by the intrusion to allow me to continue."
Will nods again. He's disappointed - John's utter loss of control during orgasm is one of his favorite sights on the entire planet - but he understands.
"However," John continues and kisses Will again, "you know where I live, and I know where *you* live--" He says this with a wave around Will's office, which makes Will laugh. "And I suggest we take this matter up again at a later date."
Will's smile fades instantly. He's been so stupid tonight - so recklessly, needlessly stupid - and he can't possibly allow it to happen again, especially not when--
"William." John kisses him hard enough to scatter all the thoughts in his head. "You think too much."
"Sorry," he says automatically, dazed.
"Quite so," John says, pleased with himself. "Now, I believe Gerald said something about union leaders?"
"Shit!" Will tears his hands free and races around his desk to get his laptop out of sleep mode. "The remarks for Tuesday!" He looks up apologetically. "I'm sorry, John, but before Toby--"
Shaking his head, John lays the towel on top of Will's gym bag. "No apologies, William. I'll see you again soon."
Will opens his mouth to say, 'maybe,' to say, 'probably not,' to say, 'I don't dare,' but then he realizes that John's not really asking. He nods. "I'll see you soon."
"Excellent." John smiles. "Good night, William." He pulls the door open and waders into the Communications bullpen, flirting with the assistants and making nonsensical remarks about the weather in Caracas.
Laughing quietly to himself, Will closes the door one more time and returns to his gym bag. There's an extra pair of pants in it somewhere...
A quiet tapping draws Will's attention to the office's outside window. He looks up and smiles.
It's still raining.
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