So, this is a one shot written for Harry's birthday, which I'm posting two days early. Set a few years post S10, but without those last ten minutes of the last episode, and this is M rated.
Harry stood on the balcony, looking towards the beautiful beach as he cradled his glass of whisky. The breeze felt warm and welcome on his face as he closed his eyes briefly. Both the daylight and the heat were fading, and listening to the repetitive sound of the waves crashing on the shore soothed him. He liked his house, just by the beach, far away from London and MI5. Getting away from England's notorious bad weather had felt good at the time, and leaving the country had been the absolute right decision for him. For them both. And for many reasons beyond the weather. He took a sip of whisky, imported from Scotland through great expense and sighed heavily.
He heard her coming but didn't turn his head. He heard the quiet click of the back door closing and the low sound of her bare feet padding against the wooden floor boards as she walked towards him. She placed a hand softly on his shoulder and he could feel the warmth of her skin almost instantly through his thin shirt, and then he did turn to face her, smiling at Ruth. Darkness had truly fallen now, but he could still see her in the glow of lights from the house. She wore a simple white knee length summer dress, and not much else. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, longer than when they'd worked together and looking beautifully windswept. He ran his hands through her hair slowly before letting his fingers fall away from her. Apart from her wedding ring, she wore no jewellery, but Ruth didn't need any, she always looked so radiant without any adornments.
"You seem sad," she said quietly. Her palm rested on his cheek for a moment, sliding over his evening stubble. Even after several years married to him, she still loved the little thrills he could send though her and the rasp of his cheek against her hand did just that.
"No," he said. "Not sad. I'm just feeling old."
"Oh, Harry," she whispered. His lips turned up in a smile at that. He always loved to hear her sigh his name, no matter the circumstances. "It's just a birthday."
"Sixty, Ruth," he reminded her. "That's old."
She stayed silent for a moment and he knew she was weighing up her words carefully before she spoke them. Her hand drifted down his spine gently, and rested on the small of his back before she replied, her fingers circling around his skin gently. "I don't see you as old," she said. "And I still find you as attractive as I did the day I stumbled and dropped my files all over the meeting room. Actually, more so." He caught the glint in her eye and couldn't help but smile. He knew she found him very attractive, though he couldn't fathom why. A man who was overweight and well past his prime. But the way she looked at him…
"It's just a number, Harry," she said. "It doesn't matter. And the alternative to getting older is dying, which I really would prefer you not to do." Her voice was light, but he could see the fear across her face, though briefly. He pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head.
"I'm not going anywhere," he told her. "I'm just being overly sensitive."
"Good," she said fervently. She kissed him briefly then changed the subject. "When's Catherine's plane landing?"
"Midday tomorrow," he said, and Ruth smiled at him, and the happiness in his voice. Ever since he left MI5, he'd enjoyed having a much better relationship with both of his children. It had been difficult to start with, but he'd had the opportunity to know both of his grandchildren from birth. That was something he wouldn't have missed for the world. "I can't wait to see them."
"I know," she said lowly. "It'll be nice to have the house full for a bit."
He turned to her, smiling seductively at her. She felt her heart catch for a moment at that intense look. "Mm," he agreed. He put the glass of whisky on the top of the balcony railings and grasped her waist, thumbs gently caressing her skin through the thin cotton of her summer dress. "Though I won't be able to make love to you on the balcony, once they arrive," he murmured. "Or anywhere and everywhere else in the house, come to that."
She smiled and kissed him, pushing her body against him as his hands slid lower, squeezing and caressing her bum. His hands stilled after a moment. "Ruth, you're not wearing…"
"No," she said. "Well, knickers would just get in the way. I know that from experience." Her eyes sparkled at him mischievously and he felt the blood surge to his groin.
"Oh," he said with a raised eyebrow and a slight smirk. He kissed her thoroughly as his fingers stroked her body, trying to find out of she was wearing a bra. She wasn't. How had he not noticed before? He blamed the dim lighting coming from the house, and the darkness outside. Otherwise he was positive he would have noticed that first. He looked in her eyes for a moment, making sure she wanted this before he pushed the straps off her shoulders and started kissing her collarbone, moving down to the tops of her breasts, loving the soft skin of her body.
She moaned quietly as her fingers entwined in his hair, urging him on. With his fingertips, he gently pushed the dress down until it reached her waist, and then he pulled back, his hands leaving her reluctantly. For the longest minute, he didn't touch her, he just looked at her beautiful body, his eyes going over her curves, her hips, her waist, her full breasts and hard nipples, begging to be touched and kissed. He could have looked at her forever, but she was becoming a little uncomfortable with the silence and she called his name quietly. "I need you to touch me, Harry," she said and she closed her eyes as he started kissing her breasts. His hands held her waist firmly as his lips very gently and teasingly kissed her skin, feather lightly. His tongue flicked against her hard nipple and she groaned, fingers tightening in his hair to urge him on. He sucked and licked her body and her head fell backwards with pleasure.
Eventually he moved away, kissing the centre of her chest. Before he could get any further, she shook her head and half sat, half fell to the floor unsure of how much longer her legs would support her. He followed her to the ground, before repeating his actions on the other breast, to her sighing pleasure.
"Oh God, Harry…" she moaned. He slowly licked her nipple as his hand pushed the skirt of her dress up and out of the way, his fingertips sliding up the inside of her thigh.
"Do you want to go to the bedroom?" he asked breathlessly, his fingers not pausing in their caresses against her legs.
"No," she said firmly. "We didn't move to a hot country, to a house with no neighbours to become a boring married couple who only have sex indoors. Oh…" Harry stroked her, his thumb finding her clitoris with ease. She slid her hands under his shirt, her nails lightly scratching his skin, sending jolts of pleasure through him. He enjoyed it when she got a little rough.
He groaned as her hands moved lower, squeezing his erection through his trousers. "I need you. I don't want…"
"What?" he asked breathlessly.
"I don't want to come alone," she whispered. "I need to feel you inside me." She fumbled at his belt, but couldn't concentrate until he took his hands off her. He loved it when he made her lose her concentration like this in response to him touching her body. They both impatiently pulled at his clothes and soon he lay naked, her hand wrapped around his length, stroking and teasing very slowly. Her thumb ran over the head as her free hand stroked his inner thighs in a way she knew he liked.
Harry rolled on top of her, effectively stopping the stimulation. He couldn't hold back for much longer if she didn't stop, and she smiled wickedly, knowing he was close.
"Open your legs," he murmured. She did, her thighs tightening around his waist as he very slowly pushed into her. She sighed as she arched against him, adoring how it felt when they became joined. His face was only a couple of inches away from hers, his eyes black in the minimal light.
He kissed her very tenderly and softly, before drawing back. "I love you."
"You always say that when we have sex," she said, smiling.
"It's probably because you're at you're most… exquisitely beautiful when I thrust inside you." He did just that and she cried out in pleasure. "That's exactly what I mean," he said, stroking her hair gently.
"Harry… you're going to… keep this slow, aren't you?"
"As slow as I can manage," he agreed, pulling out of her so she could feel every inch of him. He teased her entrance for a moment before plunging back inside her, making her squeal. She gripped his shoulders hard, her nails digging in, but she couldn't help it. Harry teasing her was always such a pleasurable, wonderful kind of torture. And he knew it. Her eyes closed as he slowly moved, every now and then kissing her. The world seemed to vanish and conscious thought stopped as everything became pure sensation. Harry moving inside her, his hands and lips on her skin, her nails digging in to his back, his heavy breathing and moans of pleasure as he moved faster and faster, her body arching up towards him.
"Oh God, yes," she sighed. "Oh, harder. Please…" He did, and within moments she came, crying out with pleasure as her thighs squeezed him tightly. He followed into ecstasy half a minute later and collapsed on top of her. She wriggled in discomfort from his weight, and he rolled over.
"Sorry," he whispered.
"Mm," she said lazily. "I normally don't mind being squashed, but the wooden floor isn't as forgiving as out mattress is." He chuckled into her ear which made her smile. Her dress was still bunched around her waist and she wriggled out of it impatiently. She shifted until her head rested on his chest and he wrapped an arm around her as she tangled her legs with his. They stayed curled together as the warm summer air washed over them.
"We could do with a blanket out here," she said, her voice slurring a little with sated lust.
"You can't possibly be cold," he replied, a hand on her bum to pull her close to him.
"No," she said. In fact they both had a sheen of sweat covering their bodies. "I like curling up with you though."
"I like fucking you," he said without thinking. She laughed, enjoying the honesty between them. After so many years watching every word, watching every action between them for meaning, it was freeing to be so open with each other. To not have to weigh every word, afraid that something might slip out that would drive the other away. They hadn't got there overnight, but it had been worth the wait.
"I hadn't quite planned it that way, you know," she said.
"What's that?" he asked, a little confused.
"Your birthday," she said. "I got a little distracted by your hands. And lips. I wanted to take you in my mouth first." She licked her lips, emphasising the point.
"Oh?" he said and she could hear the smile in his voice. "Tell you what, if you want to you can wake me up like that tomorrow."
"Would you like that?" she teased, her index finger tracing random shapes on his chest.
"You know I would."
"Okay," she said. "I will then." She kissed him, slow and sensually. "Happy Birthday, Harry."
Thanks for reading and I hope you can leave a review.