Distraction

Don't look at me like that

Booze had conquered his best friend, once again. Bill pulled a blanket over the snoring man on the couch and settled back at his desk where the president and he were working through their respective stacks of paperwork. It would be another few hours before they'd be finished, but maybe they could make better time now, without Saul's impromptu comments. She was eying him though, as if work was as far from her mind as it had been from Saul's.

"Don't look at me like that," he grumbled over the stack of reports he was processing.

His president raised an elegant eyebrow in what would have been an innocent inquiry if her eyes hadn't sparkled so alluringly.

"What do you mean?" She did that sultry dark thing with her voice again, he noticed.

He rolled his eyes at her, deeming it beneath himself to answer. These reports had to be finished. Saul may have fallen asleep on his couch in a drunken stupor, but they could not drop their responsibilities every time she felt like it, resoundingly brain melting as her interludes admittedly were. She knew that. He knew she did.

Unasked for images of her earlier distractions floated up, the uninhibited way her legs wrapped themselves around him, her delicate whimpers, the way she coaxed him to impossible new levels of agitation - delight.

Frak! He stopped himself, his body responding already as if it had been promised a rematch, and he glared at her. "Don't look at me like that!"

Over her shoulder, he saw Saul shifting in his sleep. Maybe he shouldn't have raised his voice.

"Like what, Admiral?" she said, ruining the matter-of-factness of her question by moistening her lip with the tip of her tongue.

He sighed at her. "Woman, -" he said, the opening of a reprimand, but her hand rose, elegant and resolute - stopping him.

He followed the length of her fingers with his eyes, wondering if she had devised special hand gestures to distract him. He didn't think it beneath her.

"Alright," she said. "Alright, have it your way."