Somewhat Intelligent

She’d pulled herself out of bed two hours early this morning with one simple goal in mind: go for a run before heading to the hospital.

Instead, she’s stood here in her bedroom watching her plans wash away in a downpour because, apparently, it doesn’t matter how many incredible advancements humanity has made (they’ve colonized another planet, for Christ’s sake), accurately predicting the weather is still beyond the scope of available science.

“‘Partly cloudy’ my ass,” she mutters.

The rain continues its incessant whipping, and Judy considers her second option: the treadmill. It’s right downstairs, and the workout library can replicate the exact route she planned to take anyway. But... It just isn’t the same. She much prefers running outdoors, in fresh, open air.

She’s up now, though, and it seems a waste to do nothing.

Judy huffs a breath, unable to decide. Her running clothes taunt her from the closet.

“Come back to bed...”

Don’s morning-deep voice draws her from her wallowing.

She turns from the cold, uninviting morning outside, to him—only half-covered by sheets, his exposed skin undoubtedly warm and tempting to be touched—then back to the window. To the lashing rain, and dangerous sway of the trees.

Frowning at the gray once more, she flicks the blinds a bit harder than necessary, shutting out the source of her irritation.

An irritation that begins to ebb the moment she sinks beneath the sheets, and into Don’s arms.

“It wasn’t even supposed to rain today,” she sighs.

“I know...” Don pulls her closer until her back is flush against his bare chest. As warm as she knew he would be. “But this is a nice alternative, isn’t it?”

The scratch of his stubble and softness of his lips grazing her shoulder sends a pleasant shiver up her spine. She covers his arms with her own, wrapping them tighter, nestling deeper as their legs intertwine.

“Mm. It’s okay, I guess,” she teases softly.

Don chuckles through another kiss to her neck, and slips one hand free from hers, trailing his fingertips up her arm. Ghosting from wrist to shoulder, shoulder blade to ribs, and lower, to glide under her tank top. He follows the curve of her hipbone down, and spreads his palm low on her stomach, drawing her body to meld even farther into his. As close as possible. Judy’s thighs press together at the motion, and she can’t help the soft moan that escapes her throat as she gently writhes against him, encouraging, desperate.

Like an echo to the slow, aimless drift of his lips on her nape, he caresses every chaste inch of her he can reach, setting her alight in ways only he ever could.

“Don...”

She feels his pleased smile drag up the side of her neck, and his breath flows heavily against her ear as his fingers edge downward now.