Author's Note: Written for the Five Acts meme on LiveJournal, specifically for magisterequitum, who wanted a focus on hands.

She'd known Josh for so many years by now. They had been co-workers and friends, confidantes and companions; they had been with each other through the thick and the thin.

Somehow, before now, she'd never known Josh like this. She'd known that this Josh existed, but only through gossip and idle chatter - some from Amy, but some of it surely came from Josh's own lips.

The lips that were kissing tiny little kisses around her earlobe, at that moment.

His fingers were curled possessively in her hair - they grasped at the roots; they were knotting her hair together into strands of rope, holding her closer to him. His breath was warm against her ear as she hitched her leg behind his thigh; her heel dug into the flesh and muscle. Maybe it would bruise tomorrow, and he'd have the constant reminder of what they did the night before. On top of his desk, even, the desk that now would be forever marked with the memory of what they did here.

He laughed, the vibrations of the laughter echoing through her ears, warming at her skin as she drank it in. "I don't know which of us wants this more," he whispered, untangling one hand from her hair with awkward ease. He dragged his index finger down her face, skimming along the edge of her jawline, the hollow of her throat, the swell of her breast - and she felt as though he was tracing the path that lit the match for how she was feeling. If he wasn't careful, they'd burn the whole city down tonight. She felt as though she was on fire, in the most delightful of ways.

She wanted this just as much as he did, and he knewit. He damn well knew it.

His finger stopped its maddening, meandering path.

And it slid right inside her, curling inside her; her hips bucked forward, wanting to feel more. Feel everything. She caught a moment to look down and see; his arm was sticking out from between her legs, and his thumb was massaging the inside of her thigh in tiny, concentric circles. His finger was hooked inside her, twisting and writhing and making her

She whimpered at the sight and the feeling.

She ran her hand over the back of his neck, feeling the small hairs back there; she leaned forward, pressed a kiss to the top of his shoulder. "C'mon," she whispered into his skin, "I - I needthis. Josh. Please."

He could only ever oblige her. There was nothing else he could do.