Work Text:
nightcap?>
Can’t sleep, U?
u up?
hello nightcap?
u up?
Selina raises an eyebrow and slips her glasses on. Sitting up in bed, she scrolls through the 23 missed messages from Amy, her smirk growing increasingly larger as she comprehends them. Her fingers move immediately to form a response.
Is Nevada treating you well, Amy?
Any hope of getting some sleep gone, Selina waits impatiently for a response, chewing her pristine fingernails as three bubbles appear and disappear multiple times.
Back in Carson City, Amy rubs her eyes as her screen lights up. The wine feels heavy in her stomach and her old Penn t-shirt does little to keep out the stale hotel air. Checking her phone, she prays for his sake that Dan hasn’t had the audacity to reply after leaving her on delivered for hours.
Instead, a text from Selina lights up the screen. Blinking away any remaining sleep, she reads it to herself, confused. Selina has no reason to be texting her at, what-- 5:45am DC time? She thumbs open the text and tries to come up with a reply.
What, ma’am? Too informal. I guess, why? Too inquisitive. She groans, running a hand through her once-blow dried hair. Yes, she finally types out, and hits send. Against her better judgement, she adds Why do you ask?
Oh, no reason, comes Selina’s instant reply. Seems like you’re busy. Or trying to be, at least.
That wakes Amy up. She rolls over onto her other side and tentatively goes to scroll up on their chat. From memory, she hasn’t texted Selina since before she resigned, but as it turns out, she has.
Twenty-three messages of varying degrees of horniness and desperation fill her screen, her grimace only becoming deeper as she sees them all. Her pathetic attempts to entice Dan into her room look awful on second viewing, and her stomach drops further than the Tower of Terror as she realises she’s subjected Selina to reading them.
Oh god, ma’am. I’m so sorry. They weren’t meant for you. I’m so so sorry. Her tired state only exacerbates her embarrassment, and if the ground opened up right now, in this shithole town, she’d gladly let it swallow her whole. Booty calling the President of the actual United States isn’t something you just sweep under the rug. She groans, running a hand over her face and turning into the pillow.
After the initial spiral is over, Amy composes herself enough to open the conversation back up.
I’m impressed, Ame. You’ve barely stepped off the plane and you’ve seduced some poor sod. What did you do to convince him? Tell him you’ve got a direct line to the President?
Or is it someone I know?
God forbid it be Dan Egan. That two-faced ferret doesn’t deserve my best girl.
Don’t tell me it’s Dan.
Amy.
“Fuck,” she mutters, thumbs moving quicker than they ever have before (a feat) to cover her tracks.
It’s no one, it doesn’t matter.
Selina’s response is immediate. That’s no way to talk to the President of the Free World, Amy.
Sorry, ma’am. She chews on her lip, hands hovering at the sides of her phone. It’s not comprehending why Selina is even entertaining this. It’s too early, she should be taking advantage of the last minutes she has in her schedule to sleep. At least during the campaign, 6am was her cutoff, and any time after that not campaigning or doing her presidential duties was a minute wasted. She’s sure that hasn’t changed. I’ll let you go back to bed, she types out, I’m so sincerely sorry if I woke you up.
As she goes to lock her phone and try to recuperate some of the sleep Dan robbed from her, it lights up again, this time with a call from the President herself. Hands fumbling, she accepts it as quickly as she can and sits up against the comically large pillows.
“Ma’am?” she chokes out, only now realising how scratchy her voice is.
“There she is,” Selina sounds too chipper for this time of day, “how’s your night been?”
“Hilarious, ma’am. Is there a reason you’re calling?”
“What, I need a reason to call up my favourite employee now?” The ‘favourite’ label makes Amy’s heart race, and she feels a blush spread across her cheeks.
“Well, employee is kind of a grey area ri—”
“Semantics, semantics. I’m calling to check up on you. Just making sure no one is taking advantage of you in the Wild West.”
“Nope, all peachy here, ma’am. Georgia peachy.”
“Georgia peachy? Jesus fuck, Ame, what’s in the tap water over there? Dad joke syrup? Has Ben infected you?”
Amy grimaces, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Anyway. It’s fine. The recount is looking good, we should be getting home soon, hopefully to the tune of a Selina Meyer victory!”
Selina hums on her end, a rustling sound permeating the grainy audio. “I should hope so. They stole my best girl from me. Can’t be having that.”
There she goes again with the nickname. Amy breathes out through pursed lips, ignoring the growing feeling the idea of fucking Dan had both fostered and killed. Yes, in the moment, sex with Dan would have been fantastic in the sense that she might have come and might have felt a momentary release, but in hindsight she’s never had a worse idea. Even walking out on Selina. Still, something inside of her swirled, pent-up anger, loneliness, desire, all threatening to spill out in this dingy Nevada hotel. “Thank you, ma’am.”
The line is silent for a second before Selina speaks again. “Are you in bed?”
“I am. It’s almost—” she leans over and checks the alarm clock “—3am. I should get some sleep soon. You should, too. Don’t you need to be up at 6?”
“Oh, I’ve been up, Ame. You should know this. Someone has to burn the midnight oil, or else nothing would get done around here. You’ve met Ben and Kent, those imbeciles. America would be fucked if she didn’t have me.”
“Agreed, ma’am. Shouldn’t you get some sleep, then?”
“Have you seen anything about Charlie Baird?” The subject change gives Amy whiplash, but she continues on.
“Oh, the one O’Brien is supposedly recruiting for his cabinet? Yes, he’s been in the news a bit. Didn’t you have a meeting with him today? The internet has been talking, saying things like—”
“We slept together. Well, together is a stretch. He came, then a significant amount of time passed, then I came.”
Amy clamps her mouth shut. Her Penn t-shirt feels uncomfortably tight, and she’s trying to ignore the pit in her stomach that Selina must want to grow. “That’s what they’re saying, yes.”
“Who are saying that?”
“People on Twitter, ma’am, has Mike not said anything?”
“He’s on some fucking juice cleanse, I don’t know. I think it’s cleansing his brain of anything worth something, but at the same time that’s a process that started the day he was born.”
Amy breathes in, sliding further down the bed until her head rests on top of the gaudy pillow. “Good for him.”
Selina barks out a laugh. “For now, sure, but it won’t be good for him and that stupid baby of his when I fire him.”
Amy hums in agreement and the line is silent for a second. She hears more rustling come from Selina’s end, probably the gauche bedsheets in the Residence. “Are you going to sleep soon?”
“Oh, maybe. Depends on whether or not another one of my staffers decides to—what do they call it, booby text? Yes, booby text me in the armpit of the morning.”
“It’s, uh, booty call, ma’am, and again I’m so sorry—”
“What are you wearing?”
Amy’s breath hitches, and the blush that was there before seems to have only grown. “Sorry, ma’am, what did you say?”
“You heard me, Ame. What are you wearing?” Selina’s voice has dropped, and the resulting in the background has all but disappeared. She can almost hear her expression, eyebrows ever so slightly creased and eyes judgemental.
“Um. I don’t know if I should—”
“Come on, Amy. Would your booty call have found out what you’ve got on? Oh god, Dan? Dan would have seen you in your slutty little pyjamas?”
“No, ma’am, uh, they’re not slutty—”
“So it was Dan! You were going to fuck Dan! Dan Egan! My God!”
Amy swallows, but any attempt to calm herself down is in vein. Selina is being weird – she’s never taken a smidge of interest in Amy’s sex life, never cared about how much anyone is getting and from who in spite of all the attention she garners. It would be a lie if Amy said this wasn’t igniting something, something she thought she repressed over the last year as she gradually lost control of their professional relationship and herself.
Dedicating a third of your life to a beautiful, domineering older woman was a noble feat, but one fraught with danger, especially when said beautiful, domineering older woman was also a loose cannon, always willing to knock you down a peg while telling you how good you’re being every now and then.
She was basically Amy’s dream girl.
Not that she was gay, or, at least, she didn’t think that until she resigned. Until she went to a bar to blow off steam and realised every person she picked out as “attractive” had a Selina-ism. The one guy from Baltimore who told her she had pretty blonde hair. The weird dude who yelled at her for bumping into her, then softened the blow with a thinly-veiled pass at her tits. Even the woman who approached her at the end of the night with shoulder-length black hair and a killer jawline, who leaned in close but never kissed her, and forced her to make good use of her vibrator later that night with POTUS’s given name on her lips.
4 books, a podcast and some television-watching later, she could pretty firmly say she sat somewhere on the gay spectrum. But she never knew just how much of a lesbian she really was, not until Selina Meyer was breathing down the line, waiting for her to tell her about the ratty pyjamas adorning her body.
“Just my sleep clothes, ma’am. My old Penn shirt and some black shorts.”
“Mmm. And nothing else?”
“Well, uh, no, uh, yes? Yes. Underwear.”
Selina tsked, and Amy flushed at the disapproval. “Poor Dan. He would’ve had to go through so much trouble for a peek. What’s the point of a nightcap if you’re not primed and ready, Ame?”
“Uh, no clue, ma’am.”
A faint hum came through as Selina bided her time. “You should take that shirt off. We don’t support Penn in this house.”
Amy’s heart threatened to explode out of her chest. What was she doing? This was ridiculous. She couldn’t have phone sex with the President?
Regardless, she grabbed the hem of her shirt. “Are you sure?”
“What was that you said before? Georgia peachy? Jesus Christ, it even sounds stupid when I say it. I meant yes.”
“Right.” Taking that as permission, she lifted the shirt up and over her head, exposing her plain bra. She made sure the noise of the shirt coming off was broadcast right to Selina’s ear, brushing it past the speaker of the phone as she discarded it on the other side of the bed. “Done.”
“I bet you have some lame, boring bra on, huh? Amy Brookheimer probably doesn’t even own lingerie. Too uptight.”
It takes everything she has to stifle a whine. Selina has always been mean, and upon reflection it’s always done it for her, but now? The mean-o-meter is dialled to 100. Growing just enough confidence, she runs a hand over her nipple and breathes out shakily. “If it’s offending you, I can just take it off.”
“Good girl, what a quick learner.” Amy wastes no time unclasping it and peeling it off, heaping it in a pile with her shirt.
“Done,” she says, eagerly awaiting her next instruction. She should have known how easily she’d bend over backwards for Selina when she got the chance.
“I wish I could see,” Selina mutters, just loud enough to make Amy think it was intentional. “You must look delectable right now. Dan doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”
“Jesus, ma’am, please don’t mention Dan fucking Egan right now.”
“Oh, my apologies Amy, were you in the middle of something?”
“No,” she grumbles. “I wish I was.”
“Fascinating!” Selina sounds further away from the microphone, and the rustling has returned. “Who says you can’t be? Don’t stop on my account.”
This time, she can’t keep the whine in, and it slips out of her faster than the cleanse does out of Mike. Immediately clapping a hand over her mouth, she goes to spit out an apology but is beaten to the microphone by Selina. “That was so hot,” the President says, “I’m gonna make you do that again.”
“Ma’am,” Amy manages, breathing ragged. “What is this, what—”
“Charlie Baird was a bad fucking lay, Ame. I’m pent up. You’re pent up. Why not help each other out?”
“Fuck,” Amy finally moans, slipping a hand down her chest and pinching her nipple. Her back immediately arches and she takes a second to adjust the pillow so she can properly lie down. That task done, she rolls the same nipple between her fingers and lets out a breathy noise she isn’t entirely sure she’s made before. “Fuck, Selina.” She prays to God the slipup of not calling her ‘ma’am’ goes over her head.
“Was that Fuck comma Selina? Or just Fuck Selina.”
“How do you even know about that?”
“People on the inside.”
Amy curses again, back arching further off the bed as she whines.
“You’re so easy. When was the last time someone even touched you? College? High school graduation? Prom night?”
Amy can’t even dignify that with a response, turning her focus to her other nipple and giving it the same treatment. She brings her fingers to her mouth and spits a small amount of saliva on them, giving her much-needed lubricant that only makes the sensation move intense. Her other hand begins its journey south, but she hesitates before the waistband of her shorts.
“Ma’am, can I…” she trails off, the hand on her nipple slowing down and her other hand at a complete standstill.
“Can you what, Amy? Use your words.”
“Can I touch myself, ma’am, please, I need to, please—”
“Jesus, Amy, catch up! I’ve been jacking the beanstalk this whole time!”
“You’ve been what?”
“You know, playing cuntry on the clitar. Finger painting. All that jizz.”
“Oh my god, I know what you’re saying. Jesus christ.” Amy’s hand on her tits stops momentarily, forcing a laboured breath out of her. “This whole time?”
“Why do you think I called you up, Ame?” Selina’s voice is unguarded for once, and Amy’s almost fooled into thinking she’s being vulnerable. “I’m so fucking horny.” There it is.
“Fuck,” is all Amy seems capable of saying. “Ma’am, fuck,” she pinches her nipples again and lets out a high-pitched whine. That CNN motherfucker hadn’t heard shrill. This was shrill. Amy now realises the rustling in the background must have been related to Selina’s choice of activity for the night. It speeds up and slows down in time with the President’s breathing, before she hears the covers get kicked off entirely. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“What are you wearing?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Amy stifles a groan, hands still trailing over her tits. “I mean, yeah, that’s why I asked.”
“Feisty.” Selina’s voice is growing more ragged by the second. “I like it.” She doesn’t say anything else, and Amy’s sure she’s crossed a line until her phone rings again, this time with a FaceTime request from Selina. Gasping, she angles the phone so only her face and the top of her bare chest is in view. She accepts it and is immediately blessed with Selina’s head, before she tilts the camera down to reveal a black slip that leaves little to the imagination.
“Ame,” comes her breathy voice, “are you fucking yourself?”
Amy bites her lip and finally trails a hand down under her pants. As soon as she makes contact with her core, dripping wet thanks to Selina, she moans loud and long.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Selina laughs, her face on the screen scrunching up.
“Yeah,” is all Amy’s capable of choking out as she rubs circles on her clit, using the wetness pooled there.
“Are your shorts off?”
“No, ma’am, I—”
“Why not?”
Instead of answering, Amy puts her phone down on the pillow, ignoring Selina asking where she went, and kicks her shorts and underwear off. Her cunt is exposed to the cool air of the room and it only adds to what she’s feeling, so she picks up the phone again, desperate for a glimpse at her (former?) boss. The feed is still directed at her face and the relatively PG-13 areas of her chest, which she’s okay with, but it seems Selina isn’t as she makes a dissatisfied face.
“Show me your tits, Amy. As pretty as your face is I see it all the time. I’ve never seen your tits like this. Only when you wear those slutty little dresses with your cleavage on display.”
“You—you noticed, ma’am?” Even though it wasn’t on purpose at the time, Amy realises in hindsight that every form-fitting, cut-out dress was for her boss’s eyes only.
“Of course I did, you needy little whore. Now, are you going to show me your boobs or do I have to get off imagining them?”
“Fuck, sorry,” she tilts the phone down until her chest is fully on display. Her nipples stand at attention, straining at the thought of Selina seeing her like this. Unable to resist any longer, she shoves her free hand back down to her core, touching herself hard and rough like she wishes Selina would. “I—I wish this was you, ma’am. I wish you could suck them.”
“Jesus, Ame,” Selina sounds like she just did a fun run again, “me too. Maybe when you’re back in DC we can discuss… a repeat of this.”
The thought of that alone almost topples Amy over the edge. “Please, ma’am. Please fuck me.” She speeds up with her hand, teasing her entrance as her slick coats the inside of her thighs. Her moans are coming faster now, breathy but loud directly into her phone’s microphone.
Selina seems similarly affected, any mask having slipped off and given way to what Amy could only call desperation. “Are you inside?”
“No, I’m waiting—”
“Inside, now, Amy.”
A moan rips from deep inside her and she instantly dips two fingers inside her dripping core. “Yes, ma’am.” She pumps her fingers in and out, revelling in the thought of Selina treating her like this.
“Good girl,” Selina breathes out, making Amy go even faster. She’s slamming her hand in fast and hard when she hears Selina speak again. “Fuck, Ame, you feel so good. Need you.”
It’s those words that tip Amy over the edge; the nicknames, the idea that she’s fucking Selina, that she’s making the President feel good. Her whole body tenses and she tries to keep the pace up to prolong her orgasm, but the feeling rocking her body seizes her arm and she comes with a silent scream. The other end has gone silent, and she’s scared for a second that Selina hung up on her as she came, but when she comes to she realises Selina is staring at her, mouth agape. “Good god. Was that your first orgasm?”
Amy breathes out a laugh. “No, ma’am. Just felt so good. I’ve been—” she clamps her mouth shut, eyes darting everywhere except her phone.
“You’ve been what, Ame?” When she finally looks back, Selina is smirking, arm still moving beneath her slip.
“I think I’ve been dreaming of that for a long time without realising it.”
“Mmm, that’s what I like to hear.” Selina bites her lip, her breathing unsteady.
“Are you inside?”
“Yes,” she whines, and Amy swears she can hear just how turned on Selina is. “Would be so much better if it was your fingers in me. Does your keyboard know how lucky it is?”
“God,” Amy breathes out, and she can’t resist sliding a hand down to touch herself again even though she’s still recovering from her first orgasm.
“I can’t believe you haven’t asked to see my tits. You might need to hand in your dyke card.”
“I—I wasn’t sure if I was allowed—”
“Shut up,” Selina takes her hand away from her centre and seemingly throws her phone on the bed, angled just well enough that she sees Selina take her slip nightgown off, leaving her completely naked.
“Oh my god, ma’am, you’re so beautiful.”
“I know,” Selina smirks as her face comes back into view, unkempt curls falling around her face like a halo as she leans back on her pillow. She angles the phone higher, giving Amy a view of her perfect tits. Amy moans, rubbing her clit and sending shockwaves through her body akin to those she felt as she came.
Selina has never been great with technology, but somehow she manages to prop the phone between her knees to free up both her hands. One hand immediately gropes a boob, rolling the nipple between her thumb and forefinger, while the other plunges into her wet entrance. Amy’s mouth goes completely dry, and she stops her own hand to focus completely on the President.
Her fingers pump in and out with practiced ease, her mouth wide open and back arched high. Amy is suddenly grateful for all the pilates and PT interruptions over the years, their effect clear on Selina’s toned body. Her abs tense with each thrust, arm muscles too, and the veins on her neck pop as she gets closer and closer.
Dirty talk isn’t Amy’s forte, so she isn’t sure what comes over her as she says, “I want to fuck you so bad, Selina, I need you to sit on my face.” It draws the biggest moan of the night out of the President, face tensing up as she approaches her peak. Amy keeps going. “I wanna feel how I make you feel, I wanna feel you on my mouth, my fingers—” Selina cuts her off with another loud moan, and Amy can only watch as her whole body seizes and she comes hard, the buildup over the time they’d been talking creating a perfect storm.
The sound of their breathing mingles as they take a second, Selina coming down from her high and Amy wondering how her political science degree got her here, to some janky Nevada hotel while she gets the President off. “God,” is the first word Selina manages, “who knew my little dyke was a dyke for me?”
Amy chuckles, running a hand over her face. “I didn’t really connect the dots until recently.”
“Oh, is that so?” Selina leans forward, grabbing the phone from between her legs and raising an eyebrow. “Do tell.”
“Oh god. I don’t know. I think resigning and not being around you 24/7 made me realise how much I need you in my life.”
“Ame…” Selina trailed off, her just-fucked look morphing into something different. “I hated not having you on my team. As much as I don’t want to admit it… I need you.”
“So I heard.”
“I can’t be held liable for anything I say in the fuck haze. Take it with a pinch of salt.”
“What about when you said we could discuss a repeat of this when I’m back in DC?”
“Now that I meant. I’m the motherfucking President. I’d be going against the Constitution if I didn’t fuck a pretty blonde in the White House.”
Amy blushes at Selina calling her pretty. “Well, I’m happy to be of service, ma’am.”
“Good. I would hope so.” She runs a hand through her hair, sighing loudly. “Go get some sleep now. We need our sharpest minds on this recount. I won’t be able to fuck you in the Residence if I’m not living there anymore.”
“Heard. If I wasn’t motivated before I am now.”
“Good girl,” Selina mutters low, just loud enough for Amy to hear her. “I can’t believe you were going to fuck Dan tonight. God. It’s lucky I was even able to come with that on my mind. He’s the human equivalent of a chastity belt.”
“I was desperate, ma’am. I regretted the thought of it pretty much straight away.”
“You know, if you ever get that desperate again, you have my number.”
“Um, noted. Thanks.” Amy isn’t sure she’ll be able to form any more words that aren’t moans or curse words.
“Goodnight, Ame. Go clean yourself up.”
“Will do. Night, ma’am.”
The FaceTime disappears, leaving Amy looking at a blank screen. With a sigh, she peels herself off the bed, naked body shivering in the cold air, and forces herself to the bathroom. When she’s back in bed, clothes on and hotel duvet doing little to keep out the cold, she falls asleep straight away with Selina’s moans bouncing around her head.
***
“What did you get up to last night then, Dan?”
“Oh, not much. You?”
Amy smiles. “Just a quiet night in with my phone.”