Genre: Punditslash
Pairing: Ana Marie Cox/Rachel Maddow (other pundits and significant others mentioned)
Rating: R
Wordcount: 913
Notes: Written for the last day of the Merry Month of Masturbation. Dedicated to my partner in mischief,
hllangel. Also written for babykid528, who wanted some Rachel wankage. This was as close as I could get. Unbeta-ed. If you see any typos, please let me know, and I will fix them as soon as humanly possible. Warnings: It's RPS folks. Real people. Lots of them.
Summary: What happened after the White House Correspondent's Dinner?
It was nearly two in the morning when Ana Marie let herself into the townhouse.
She felt absolutely exhausted, but with that same giddiness she’d sometimes gotten during the campaign. Such an awesome night. From the pre-dinner festivities to the dinner itself, followed by the parties and best of all the after-parties.
Her blackberry was full of names of people she’d met, but she’d lost track of what she’d actually said to them, and hoped she was remembering some of it wrong. Had she really told Rahm Emmanuel that he was a sex symbol on the internet? And why didn’t he seem the least bit surprised?
By the time she posted her last tweet, sometime around one, it was a wonder she could get her fingers on the right letters. Now it was time to get some sleep, but really who cold just go to sleep after a night like that?
She kicked off her pumps, grateful that her feet hadn’t given out earlier. Maybe she’d use the hot tub. The shoes had done a number on her calves and back. Kinks galore.
Chris was already asleep. He’d begged off about two seconds after Wanda Sykes last laugh died down. Sometimes Ana Marie thought the gap between night owl and morning lark was even wider than the one between Democrats and Republicans. On the other hand, he’d be up in the morning with two columns written while she was still struggling to get her eyes open.
He’d been somewhere in the vicinity of the ABC table, talking to Steve and Cokie Roberts, when Ana Marie found herself facing the imposing form of Keith Olbermann.
Ana Marie liked and respected Keith. Clearly the man wasn’t afraid to say anything, but she was also just as happy that most of her MSNBC bookings were with Rachel, rather than the high-testosterone environment of Countdown. To be honest, there were times during the campaign when she’d thought that some of Keith’s shots at McCain were low blows. Never inaccurate; just a shade crueler than absolutely necessary.
Keith must have had at least one cocktail too many, because Ana Marie was absolutely positive that that he’d actually leered at her when he said, “I can’t wait to see you on Rachel next week. You guys are really hot together,” which left Ana Marie with an unusual case of stunned silence until Keith lurched off in the direction of Politico.com table.
She’d been able to shake it off and get on with her night of hard-core schmoozing, but now she had to deal with the facts.
It wasn’t like she was the only one with a crush on Rachel Maddow, she thought, gingerly stepping into the Jacuzzi. The condition appeared to be nearly universal, and if the stuff she read on-line was any indication, Keith was the last rather than the first to make note of their onscreen chemistry.
Even Chris would joke about her “having a date with her girlfriend” when she was booked on Rachel’s show. He’d told her that the “tea-bagging” segments were pretty much the filthiest thing he’d seen on television, not that he minded. He thought they’d do better to give Ana Marie and Rachel an hour every day to talk in obscene euphemisms, instead of letting Matthews imperil the public’s hearing every day. Or maybe as a replace for what he called “Morning Schmo.”
So why did Olbermann making a slightly rude comment bother her so much?
Because now, when she angled herself against one of the jets, letting it stimulate her, as she imagined Rachel's hand in the same place, she couldn’t help seeing Keith as well, taking in the action with great interest.
This was wrong. So wrong. And so very hot.
She added her own fingers to the pressure provided by the water against her pussy, sliding one finger inside, the way Rachel would. Rachel would never cheat on Susan, but if she did, she’d drive Ana Marie crazy.
Steam rose from the water, and her movements sent more of it over the side. She caught a completely perverted glimpse of Keith still wearing his tuxedo, tie undone, panes open, and cock in hand.
He was stroking at the same pace Ana Marie had set for herself. Her fingers moved faster, probing deeper until she couldn’t take it anymore, and focused everything on her clit, circle, stroking, allowing the water to push her over the edge. Waves of delicious orgasm shook her body until she was completely exhausted could let herself float calmly in the buoyant, bubbly water.
“How’d you like that show?” she murmured to her imaginary Keith, who’d presumably gotten his rocks off and immediately disappeared. Not that different than the real thing, if certain rumors were anything to go by.
“Pretty good,” said a soft voice, that was most definitely not Keith, or Rachel for that matter.
“Hi honey.”
“Hi.”
Chris was wearing his pajamas, and a sheepish grin that probably matched her own. He was holding a towel and her green silk robe.
“Thinking about Rachel?”
He didn’t seem to mind the idea, but she decided to keep the rest of the scenario to herself, treating him a wink and a nod.
When he helped her out of the Jacuzzi, he kissed her neck and whispered in her ear, “I hope you have something left for me, because I definitely have something for you.”
It was nearly three in the morning and Ana Marie’s night wasn’t over yet.