A Barren Superfluity of Words

by Puck and Zillah

Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Post-ep for Hartsfield's Landing and Dead Irish Writers.
Notes: Before you ask, there is a US Poet Laureate post-ep coming. But we realized we had to back up a little to explain some of the actions in USPL. For example, why wouldn't Sam know she was on vacation and where? So here's this and the one for USPL will be out as soon as we finish it. This starts the day after Hartsfield's Landing.
Note 2: The title is a quote by Sir Samuel Garth. Whoever that is.
Note 3: Perri, you're welcome to it for Bipartisan, as always, if only because it will encourage you to update. < g > If Zillah can do it. . . [ED: Nag, nag, nag....]

Ainsley adjusted her overnight bag on her shoulder and rang Sam's doorbell. She wondered if this counted as a booty call, your recently official boyfriend calling you after work to "come see something neat." She really hoped he wasn't trying to be cute and was going to open the door naked save for a bow around his nether regions.

He opened the door, grinning like a little boy. "Hi."

Well, he was dressed. "Hi, Sam."

"Come in, come in." He backed into the livingroom, and went over to a small table by the window, where he had a chessboard set up.

She set her bag on the couch and followed him to the table. She picked up the white queen and studied it. "It's beautiful."

"The President gave it to me," he said softly.

She rubbed her thumb over the piece and set it down in it's proper place. "Any reason?" She looked up. "I didn't miss your birthday did I?"

"No, it was. . . The President brought them back from India. He gave me one and told me how great the State of the Union was."

She beamed, leaning into his side. "It was."

"He played chess with me. I've never been so honored to get my ass kicked."

"I'm sure you put up a hell of a fight."

Sam lifted a pawn and rolled it across his fingers. "He told me I was going to run for president one day. To not be scared, because he believed in me."

She smiled, sliding her arm around his waist. "He's right. You will. And I think you'll win."

"Sometimes I'm not even sure. . . I mean, I've been on the outside for so many things lately. . . It just surprised me. The chess, and he was talking to me about foreign policy. . ." he shrugged.

"I'd vote for you," she offered.

He grinned. "Thank you."

She beamed. "You're welcome." She looked at the chessboard. "Of course, I also might run against you."

"You want to run for office?"

She smiled, considering. "It's a possibility."

"Would you like to play chess with me, Ainsley?"

"I'm not very good. But I will."

"Strip chess, even."

"You read my mind, President Seaborn."

He dragged two dining chairs over to the little table. She slid into one, picking up a pawn of each color and hid them in her fists, then held them out to him.

"You, I can touch," he muttered, then he bent and kissed the tops of her right knuckles.

She stroked his cheek with a finger, then turned her hand over to show the white pawn. "You're white," she murmured.


"Sorry." She returned the pieces to their places and waited for his move.

He moved one pawn. "This isn't going to be like poker is it? Or pool? Or racquetball? Where you do your cute-clueless-southern-belle thing and then clean me out?"

She smiled. "No, I'm really not good at chess. I have trouble remembering where pieces can move." She nudged a pawn. "So if I mess up, be nice."

"Cause this is so the kind of thing your Pappy would have taught you in his oak-paneled study laden with deer heads on the wall."

"Darts and pool."

He groaned. "I forgot about darts. Though I think you got the most money out of Josh that night."

She grinned. "You should see me hunting."

Two moves later, he took her pawn. "Aha. Show me some skin."

She took a shoe off and tossed it aside.

"Your move."

She moved a bishop and he noticed her eye him. When he didn't react she figured it was legal and took his pawn. She beamed.

He reached for his tie, only to notice he'd taken it off. Same for his shoes *and* his socks. He liked walking around in bare feet, only now it put him at a serious disadvantage. She had on about seven separate clothing items, eight if she was wearing a slip. Nine or ten if he counted jewelry. He decided he wouldn't. Besides, making love to her in nothing but pearls was kind of sexy. He began unbuttoning his shirt, leaving him with pants, boxers and a T-shirt. He sure hoped she was bad at chess.

She grinned when the shirt hit the ground. She pillowed her head on crossed arms. "Do garter belts count as clothing?"

He grinned at the image, until he realized that meant her stockings were two separate items, as opposed to pantyhose as a single item. Then he frowned.

She chuckled. "You're lucky I'm bad."


He moved, then she moved and so on. She'd lost her other shoe, her stockings and suit jacket. He was still covered. And she hadn't caught up yet.

"Well, you weren't lying. Unless you're about to ambush me."

"It's occurred to me I don't have to be good, I just need to take three pieces and I've won."


Immediately she moved a rook and took a pawn. The move had no strategic value at all. He stood to take off his pants, and realized he was wearing a belt. He'd forgotten about it. "Ha. Another item."

She made a face. "Rats."

He discarded the belt. "And the plot thickens."

"I'm still ahead in the clothes department."

"I know." He took her rook. She unbuttoned her blouse and let it drop. She was wearing a slip.

He sighed. He was so going to lose.

She moved a knight and took another pawn. "Show me some skin."

He sighed, pulling his T-shirt over his head. She beamed widely, that triumphant little grin he was starting to associate more with sex then arguments.

"It's cold in here," he muttered.

She snickered. He moved a random piece, inching his way to her queen. She moved a bishop to block him, teasing.

It took him two more moves to get rid of her skirt, another for the slip. Sitting in a bra, panties and garter belts dangling she took one of his knights and arched a brow at his pants.

So now they were both in their underwear, and he really wasn't interested much in chess anymore.

She was playing with the knight she'd just gotten. "I'm still in the lead."

He reached for that hand, and kissed her fingers. She smiled, tracing the line of his lips.

"Enough chess," he whispered.

"My sentiments exactly."

"If this was a cheap board I'd toss it aside dramatically, but it's from the president, who got it from the prime minister of India and who. . ."

She stood and came around the table to him. He stood up, and then he kissed her mouth. She sighed, sliding her arms around him. He traced his fingers up her spine, until he reached her bra and unhooked it.

She shivered and stepped back to let the garment fall. He smiled, lifting his hands to cup her breasts. She leaned into him, bending her head to kiss his shoulder.

"Sometimes I really can't get over how beautiful you are," he said softly.

She smiled and he saw tears shimmer in her eyes. "Thank you."

He kissed her gently, taking her hand and pulling her back to his bedroom. She followed, holding his hand tightly. He flicked in his bedside light, and closed the door.

She went to the bed, pulling the sheets back. She took his hand and pulled him over, then pushed him to sit on the bed. She kissed him deeply, straddling his lap.

Her breasts brushed against his chest, making him groan. He leaned back, he just wanted to look at her. He loved her body, he loved watching her and touching her.

She kissed his throat, sliding her hands over his skin. She circled his wrists with her delicate fingers and held them.

He lifted and eyebrow. She smiled and took a nipple in her mouth.

His body arched a little against her. She wasn't really strong enough to hold him down, but he let her anyway. She leaned on him, tipping him back to lie down, holding his hands to the bed. He lifted his head, trying to catch her mouth.

She arched away, grinning devilishly. She shook her head, sliding down him to kiss his navel. He groaned, closing his eyes, shuddering a little at the feather-light touch of her lips on his skin. She scraped her teeth against him a little, sliding off him to kneel on the floor, still holding his hands. He turned them over, lacing his fingers into hers. She kiss his hipbone, hooking the elastic of his boxers with her teeth and dragging them slowly down.

Without letting go of her hands, he used his thumbs to help her.

She got them off, then turned her head to kiss the inside of his thigh.

He sucked in a breath. "Ainsley. . ."

She hummed softly, moving up his leg.

Sam sighed, closing his eyes. "Now is not the time for games."

"Always time for games. We just played chess, after all."

"Yeah, but. . ."

"Let me play with you, Sam," she purred into his thigh, her breath tickling very sensitive parts which perked up at the touch.

"I'll get you later," he groaned.

"You usually do."

He tugged on her hands a little. She tightened her fingers on him, dragging her tongue up his thigh to the very base of his shaft. A shudder passed through him. He opened his eyes, deciding he wanted to watch her.

She drew her tongue up his length, then played with the tip, licking away the moisture she found there. She closed her lips over just the head, sucking lightly.

*Holy God*. His fingers tightened painfully on hers.

She shuddered and slid her hands free of his. She wrapped one hand around his shaft, stroking in counterpoint with her sucking. The other dipper lower, cupping his heavy globes and stroking them gently. Occasionally he felt her nails, but the minor pain only increased the pleasure.

He pushed up on his elbows, watching her head move, the way her pale hair spilled over her shoulders and onto his thighs. It was almost as erotic as what she was doing with her mouth. Almost.

She slowly took more and more of him into her mouth. He groaned, trying to keep from pushing up to her.

After and eternity he was totally inside her. She braced herself with her hands on his thighs, moving faster now.

The feel of her mouth sliding over him was almost unbearable. "Honey," he gasped.

She slid very slowly off him, catching his gaze and holding it as she did so. When he was free she slowly started to creep up him. "So. . . how are you going to punish me?"

"Well . . ." He swallowed. "Uh. . ."

She licked her lips. "So many people would be fascinated by how inarticulate you are at times like this."

He reached up, cupping the back of her neck and pulling her down for a rough kiss. She shuddered on top of him, warring her tongue with his. His arms came around her, pulling her close against his chest.

She sighed, legs splayed awkwardly over his hips. She kissed him again and again, both hot and tender at the same time. She buried her hands in his hair.

He cupped her rear, shifting her so she straddled him. He dipped one hand between her legs and touched her lightly. She murmured his name, then something incoherent. She was soaked.

He groaned. "Later?" he whispered, hoping she understood.

She nodded. She shifted again, pushing up. "Help," she murmured.

He lifted her a little, settling her over him and letting her sink down. She moaned softly. She found leverage with her hands and began to rock, a slow lazy rhythm. His eyes opened a little, he watched her through heavy lids. The way her breasts swung a little, the way her hips rolled.

Her gaze met his and a sultry smile touched her mouth. She moved in the same rhythm, driving them both crazy.

It was slightly more torment than he could take, or it just required more patience that he had. He gripped her waist in his hands, pulling her down any rolling them over, so she was under him.

She looked surprised, eyes widening at the sudden change in angle. She buried her fingers into his hair, arching up to him. He kissed her mouth, pushing deep into her. Her legs wrapped higher around his waist.

"Sam," she breathed. "You're. . . so. . ." She bucked up and he felt her start to flutter around him, the first sign of her orgasm. He was well used to them now, used to her. He knew it would be a matter of seconds, of strokes, and she'd be lost.

It was a good thing, too, because he was just *barely* holding on. Her body clenched around him and he thought he saw stars behind his eyes.

She cried out incoherently and tightened even more, shuddering in his arms. He thrust deep as everything rushed through him, the world spinning and shattering.

Ainsley was panting, clinging to his sweat slicked back. She nuzzled at his throat, tasting salt and sex and his own personal taste that she adored.

"You're a goddess," he murmured.

She smiled. "Thank you. You're my god."

That made him laugh. "Can I get you to call me that at work?"

"You can try."

Sam kissed her gently and rolled off of her. She sighed and scooted up on the bed, curling under the covers. He kissed her again and got out of bed. "I'll be right back."

She made a noise punching the pillow to plump it. She closed her eyes, snuggling into the soft sheets. He came back a moment later with cookies and a glass of milk.

She smelled the cookies and opened her eyes. She scooted up into a sitting position. "What's this?"

"You're always hungry afterward."

She smiled and he heard her squeak. She reached out and took the plate and glass as he sat down next to her.

"You know how we were talking about making a public appearance?"


"Well, we're throwing a big party for the First Lady's birthday."

She dunked a cookie in the milk carefully. "When?"

"Two weeks."

She smiled. "I'd love to."


"Should I get her a present?"

"Um. . .you know I don't know."

"Because I wouldn't know what to get her."

He ate a cookie. "Could I persuade you to wear that black dress?"

"But I thought I could surprise you with a new dress."

"An even better dress?"



She smiled, putting the half empty plate and drained glass on the bedside table. She rolled into his arms. He kissed her. "You tired?"

"No. Maybe a little." She smiled up at him. "I like when we sit like this."

He kissed her neck. "Mmmm."

She tilted her head to the side to give him access. Her arms slid around his chest. He kissed down her collarbone. She arched a little, the sheets sliding down her.

"It's later."

She smiled. "You're right, it is."

He pushed the sheet off her breasts, kissing each nipple. She settled back against the headboard, letting her eyes drift shut. He stroked one hand over her skin, enjoying it's texture. His mouth worked it's way to her navel.

She arched up to him with a gentle squeak.

He pushed her gently back to the bed. "Patience."

She laughed softly. "That's not something either of us are big on."

He lifted on of her knees and parted her legs. She sighed, scooting down and lifting her other leg.

"Thank you," he said, nibbling on the inside of her thigh.

"I'm helpful."

He inhaled her scent. He touched her ever so gently with his tongue, and then he drank her in. She moaned softly and her legs trembled around him. Her fingers wove into his soft hair.

He teased her, taking his time. She rocked back in forth, in time with his licks and strokes. She moaned out his name. He slid two fingers slowly into her slick heat.

She trembled around him, one or two steps before fluttering. Her hands untangled from his hair and stroked up her body to touch her breasts, teasing herself. He opened his eyes, looking up briefly to watch that, and somehow their eyes met.

She blushed. Usually he didn't see, or at least she didn't notice him seeing. Her hands drifted away from her nipples.

"I like it," he said simply.

She looked a little uncertain. She knew a lot of men got huffy and insulted. She'd slept with a few of them. But she knew Sam well enough by now to know he wanted her to feel good and would do anything to make sure she did. She cupped her breasts again, rolling her nipples. She saw him grin, and then his head dipped down again.

She made a noise at the touch of his tongue and he felt the beginning flutters around his fingers. He sucked her clit gently between his teeth. She let out a cry, arching up. The fluttering progressed to spasming and she came, roughly, around his fingers. He lifted his head and grinned. This was the one situation in which she never minded when he looked smug.

She reached out for him, wiggling her fingers in her eagerness. He braced his hands on either side of her head and kissed her gently. She swept his mouth with her tongue to taste herself, wrapping her arms around him.

"Mmm, don't even be shy with me," he said.

She smiled. "I'm just not used to being watched."

"It's sexy."

She brushed a lock of his hair out of his eyes. There were words on her tongue she'd never said to him, hadn't said to *anyone* it what was probably too long. But they'd only been two months, weren't going public for two more weeks. She didn't think he'd get scared, or run. There might even be a chance he'd say it back. But there was a chance. . . and this was too special to ruin. So she swallowed it and said "Thank you," instead.

He caught her mouth and slid slowly inside her. She shuddered around him. She had a feeling she was going to be sore in the morning, but what did she care, this was too good to pass up. She arched into him, wrapping her legs around him.

He sighed, his eyes fluttering closed. He rocked a few times. She came faster this time, the orgasm almost gently. She shuddered in his arms, whimpering.

He followed her a moment later, not the blinding explosion like before, but a slow rush. She moaned at the feel of his heat inside her. "Yes," she whispered.

His bones turned to liquid and he collapsed on top of her.

She rubbed his back, up and down, slowly.

"I really can't move."

She chuckled softly, nuzzling him. "I don't mind."

"Mmm, good."

"I've never been this happy," she whispered.

"Neither have I," he said honestly.

She kissed the tip of his nose. She shifted a little until most of his weight was off her and they were side by side, tangled together. Sam buried his face in the curve of her neck as he drifted to sleep.

Ainsley looked down at the face of the man wrapped around her. And he was literally wrapped, both arms and legs pinning her down. He always did that. She'd teased him about it once, two nights after the State of the Union. It had been their first non drunken night together. He'd spent the night at her place and in the morning she'd made him breakfast. She'd asked him if he always turned octopus in his sleep.

"Do you always talk in your sleep?"

"I don't talk in my sleep!"

He'd grinned. "You do so. You were talking about bunny rabbits, then handcuffs and then it got weird."

She'd been so embarrassed. "I didn't know. No one's ever told me."

"I think it's cute."

She'd smiled. "Maybe it's because I can't stop talking, even when unconscious."

He's gotten up and wrapped her in his arms. "Then maybe I can't stop touching you, even when unconscious."

Her kitchen table had never been the same.

Sam shifted in his sleep, cupping her breast with his hand. The nipple responded immediately. She kissed the top of his head gently, sinking into the pillow. She let the rhythmic sound of his breathing lull her into sleep.


A few days before the party Ainsley was cooking dinner for Sam. "You're going to pass out when you see my dress."

"I can't wait."

She beamed at him. "Me neither." She set the plates on the table. "Which probably means there's going to be some sort of political emergency which drags you away from me all night."

"Mmm, I do have one thing to deal with."

"I knew it."

"A teacher I had at Princeton is coming up, about this superconductor thing."

"Collider," she said absently. She got up and got the salt shaker from the counter and came back to the table.

"And on behalf of him, I get to do battle with Jack Anlow."

She frowned. "That name sounds familiar."

"He screwed me over once."

"Not in the literal way, right?"

He turned. "Ainsley."

"I'm just making sure you didn't rise through the ranks of politics using the Greek method."

"Oh, for God's sake."

She laughed softly, taking a bite of her roast.

"Seriously, Ainsley, I'm going to enjoy this."

She arched a brow. "Doing battle?"

"Oh yes."

"Because this guy screwed you over?"

"He's a shithead."

"You're doing this for personal reasons."

"Sometimes politics is fun."

"Sam you can't go after some guy because he hurt your feelings."

"Why not?"

"Because personal feelings shouldn't come into play in politics."

"Why not?"

"It's unethical. When you let personal vendettas cloud your actions you're asking for trouble."

"Oh, come on, it's for a good cause."

"Which will get lost in your pissing contest."

"Ainsley, please don't be the ethics police about this."

"You're going to compromise the cause by being involved. I know you when you get mad, you get mean and you're going to piss Anlow off so much you won't get anything and neither will your teacher."

"I can handle myself, I'm not a spiteful little boy."

She was silent. "You are spiteful."

"This is not spite."

"What is it?"

"It's. . .I'm doing someone a favor."

"Would you be so eager if you didn't get to trash this senator to do it?"

"Trash is the wrong word."

"Pummel? Attack? Wreck vengeance upon?"

"Duel with."

"Will actual swords be used?"

"If needs be."



"I don't. . . You can't let personal feelings affect your actions. What if it was the other way around? You don't give me special privileges because we sleep together you shouldn't *duel* with this guy because he kicked sand in your face one time."

"Who are you to lecture me about dirty politics? You're a republican."

"I don't practice dirty politics."

"You just haven't been around long enough."

"Apparently you have."

"This is just the way it's done sometimes."

"I thought you held yourself to a higher standard then us wretched Republicans."

"Look, I'm doing someone a favor, and so what if I enjoy it? How can my feelings be unethical?"

"Your feelings aren't unethical. Threatening the success of the super collider because of them is. Threatening anything to get your jollies off is unethical."

"I'm not going to jeopardize anything."

"When your feelings are involved you aren't a politician, Sam. You want to win. And you say things and act in a way that is not beneficial to your purpose."

"I'll be fine."

She sighed heavily and got to her feet, taking her half finished dinner with her.

He stood. "Ainsley."


"Look, I promise I won't be with Anlow too long. We'll dance and I'll see you get pink squirrels. Don't worry about this."

"I'm tired of fighting with you," she said softly.

"Let's stop, then."

"No, I mean. . . Everytime we talk, everytime we're together, we disagree. We fought the first time we met. In fact, I think the only time we don't fight is when we're making love. I'm tired of it. I don't want. . ." She closed her eyes. "I want to feel like we have something in common."

"Okay, I'm really not liking this conversation."

She swallowed. "Can you think of one thing we agree on? Outside of the bedroom?"

He rubbed his forehead. "There are things."

"Can you think of one?"

"Not right at this moment because I'm all riled up. But there has to be something, Ainsley, because we're friends too, not just having cheap sex."

"We are friends. I'm not saying I don't like you, that this isn't more then sex. But I'm tired of a fight every night." She shook her head. "Maybe fight isn't even the right word, just. . ." She hugged herself. "I know I like you, I just can't say why. Everytime I try to think I come back to arguing with you. And I don't know if I want a relationship based on disagreeing."

"I see."

"Maybe if we could just. . . take a break for a while."


"I didn't mean to do this today."

"I should go," he said.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"How long. . .how long is a while?"

She looked down at the floor. The linoleum was peeling in this corner of kitchen. "Two weeks?" she offered.

"Maybe by then we'll remember why we like each other."

"Maybe we'll think of something to agree on."

"You're still welcome at the party, you know."

She nodded. "I'll think about it."

He collected his things, kissed her cheek, and left.

She got a pint of ice cream from the freezer and sank down at the kitchen table. She wondered if she could return that dress.

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