She felt like she hadn't seen her husband in days. He'd been back and forth to the London keeping tabs on a set of quadruplets that had been born, a feat that had shocked all the midwives at Nonnatus, especially as they all were born alive. As such, Patrick had been spending most of his time when he wasn't seeing individual patients at the hospital, working with the doctors there in order to care for the set of tiny infants. Although Shelagh was just as curious and interested in what was going on, having never seen more than triplets born herself, she still fretted over having not interacted with her husband for more than a few minutes here and there for a week. The only time they shared space was while sleeping and, even then, he usually came in once she was already asleep, leaving early in the morning while she was making breakfast for the children.
It was nearly eleven and although Shelagh knew she should be getting to bed, she couldn't seem to calm herself down, instead, she picked up the laundry, intent on folding the sheets and towels she had been ignoring all evening. She rolled her eyes when she noticed Patrick's clothes from the previous day discarded in the corner of their bedroom, nowhere near the hamper. She sighed, picking up the shirt and clutching it to her chest, the scent of her husband filling her nose at the action. She couldn't remember the last time he had held her close, their lives having been so chaotic the last while. She knew he would cuddle with her in their sleep almost every night, but it wasn't the same as when he held her during the day. In a fit of exhaustion and loneliness she stripped out of her clothes, pulling his Oxford on and wrapping herself in it. She laughed softly, noticing how she was practically drowning in the fabric, their bodies so completely different. Yawning, she went back to the laundry, folding the top sheets first, avoiding the fitted sheets for a few more minutes.
"Well, what do we have here? Stealing my clothes now Shelagh?" Patrick asked, voice low as he leaned against the door jam. Shelagh's gaze instantly snapped to him, a blush spreading across her cheeks. She was about to retort to defend herself when she saw him shut the door, loosening his tie as he stalked across the room, dropping his jacket on the floor. "Criminals have to be punished for theft you know," he teased, eyes cloudy with arousal as he took in the sight of his wife. He couldn't help but let his gaze rove over her bare legs, the hem of the dress shirt lying at mid thigh. He wondered how much of her he would be treated to seeing if she were to bend over to pick up more laundry from the basket at the foot of the bed. Instead of asking, he lunged for her.
She squealed, giggling frantically while trying to get away from him, yelping when he caught her around the waist, dragging her across the mattress and against his chest.
"Caught you, shirt thief," he grinned, nipping at her ear as he tugged at the buttons. She tried to wriggle away to no avail, deciding instead to reach back and tangle her fingers in his hair as he sucked a bruise onto her neck.
"Patrick!" she admonished, breathless at the sensation.
"Mm?" he queried, biting a new patch of skin, intent on marking her as his for days, a surge of barbaric possessiveness in him at the sight of her wearing only his shirt. He vaguely noticed that the pile of sheets she had been folding had fallen to the floor, but he couldn't find it in himself to care, instead focusing on leaving the buttons of the shirt in order to slide up under the hem, along her thighs until he could rest his fingers between her legs, finding that beneath the cotton fabric of the Oxford she was completely naked. Shelagh moaned, her head dropping to his shoulder as he teased her, moving his mouth to her shoulder to continue the mural he was painting on her skin with his teeth, loving the hiss that escaped her.
"I've missed you," she confessed, gasping when she suddenly found herself on her back, her husband looming over her, inspecting the hickeys he left on her pale skin and the size of her pupils, blown wide with arousal until her eyes held very little of the blue pigment he loved to look at.
"And I you. And I plan to show you exactly," his hands pushed the fabric of the shirt up around her waist "how," his trousers were suddenly undone, gaping open at his hips "much," he pushed into her in one smooth stroke, causing her to bite her lip in order to hold in the scream that wanted to escape. She clutched at his back, her legs wrapping around his hips as he moved within her, the thick material of his jumper grazing her thighs at each of his thrusts.
"Patrick," she moaned, bucking against him as he sped up, their lovemaking more frantic than it had been in months. She could feel herself sweating, Patrick laying his forehead against her neck, pressing into the bruises he had left, staining them with his own perspiration and saliva as he sucked another mark into her skin. She shattered quickly, entire body shaking as she gasped, hips bucking and twitching at the sensations that flooded through her. He followed her almost instantly, panting against her skin, the hot pangs of breath making her shiver as she felt him jerk within her.
When he pulled away from her it was only long enough to strip down to just his pants, lying back down and tugging her into his chest again, smiling at how she rested her head on his shoulder, fingers tracing patterns on his chest.
"I promise I'll try and be home more," he assured her, kissing the crown of her head. "Especially if it means I'll get to see you wearing my clothes more often," he added. He felt Shelagh shake her head slightly, his hand rubbing up and down her back, the fabric of the Oxford sticking to her still damp skin every so often.
"Possessive," she mocked, sighing as he reached out and turned off the bedside lamp. "Love you."
"Love you too."