I have literally no excuse for this. I challenged myself to write something entirely from Henry's POV and then there was wine and somehow this occurred. Very sorry (not really at all sorry) for the indulgent fluff and shameless smut. The wine did it, not me. It happened fast, there was no time to stop it. I can only apologise. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
Anyway, I hope you like it. Let me know what you think :)
Home
Somehow – Henry still wasn't particularly clear on the how – his wife's planned five day trip to the big European capitals for a quick catch-up with her foreign counterparts had turned into a two week marathon tour, including an unscheduled visit to refugee camps in Greece and Italy (commendable – and understandable), and something about the President somehow upsetting the EU over banana imports that for some reason was problematic enough to necessitate an urgent divert to Brussels to smooth things over before heading back to the US (slightly less understandable, although still highly commendable considering Elizabeth hadn't – publicly – laughed once over the ridiculousness of the situation).
The result was that he hadn't seen Elizabeth in a fortnight, and he missed her.
He sat propped up in their bed, reading – trying to read. His book was open on his lap but he had been staring into space rather than at the page for the past twenty minutes, too distracted to focus on the text in front of him.
It shouldn't be quite so hard. Years ago, when they were still relatively new, he had been the one off on long trips for work, and it had been for much longer than a fortnight. He had been away for months while serving in the Marines and it had been tough, the separation, the feeling of something missing where Elizabeth usually was, but he didn't remember it being quite as bad. Probably because he had been busy, focusing on controlling a fighter jet at forty-thousand feet or any of the other many tasks that filled his days.
Now he was at home waiting, and although he had his work and his research and the kids to keep him occupied, he still had a little too much time to think about the fact that his wife's side of the bed was empty. Before she became Secretary of State, it had been years since they had spent more than a few nights apart, and her role was still new enough that Henry found it felt unsettling and unfamiliar every time she went away.
He wanted her back.
She would be back soon. The kids had disappeared after Saturday lunch and he had turned on the news to see footage of her in Brussels, talking to a couple of her European counterparts. She was wearing a close-fitting grey dress that made Henry want to pull her close so he could feel her against him – and then peel the dress off her, slowly. He had been imagining doing just that when his phone rang and it was Elizabeth, calling to tell him that she was finally coming home.
"I can't wait to see you in person rather than on a television or computer screen," he said when she told him the news.
Her throaty chuckle came from the other end of the phone line. "Have you been spying on me, Henry?" She had a tease in her voice that suggested she knew exactly how much he had missed her while she was away.
"Daily," he said, completely unashamed. Of course he had been following news of her trip. Seeing her on the internet or on the TV wasn't the same as having her next to him in bed at night, but seeing her being amazing at her job made it a bit more bearable, made him proud. And though they had spoken on the phone as often as possible over the two weeks she had been gone, he had needed to see her face as well as hear her voice.
Elizabeth had seemed pleased with his answer. "Would you judge me harshly if I say I kind of like that?"
"Oh yeah?"
She had hummed a little in the back of her throat and he guessed that she was smiling. "Yeah. I think it's sweet. Sexy." She sounded sexy when she said it and Henry hoped that her thoughts were going to the same place his has been for the past two weeks – he didn't miss having her next to him in bed just because he missed sleeping with her.
"I can't wait until you get home," he said.
"Well, you're just going to have to," she replied and, oh yeah, her thoughts were totally in the same place as his were. Which was a filthy pit of debauchery. Or a candlelit romantic bath, or something in between. Whatever she happened to be in the mood for when she got back.
He didn't plan on being fussy about it. "When will you be here?"
"Plane lands at Andrews around ten. I should be back by eleven." There was a small commotion on the other end of the line. "Babe, I've got to go. We're leaving for the airport now."
"Fly safe," Henry said. "And fast."
"So romantic, professor."
"If it's romance you're after, I can do that." Quite frankly she could have whatever she wanted from him.
"Oh, I don't doubt it. I'll see you tonight."
Henry nodded, despite the phone line and the ocean between them. "Bye, babe."
That conversation had been at around two in the afternoon, and the clock was now coming up on eleven. Henry had always considered himself to be a patient man, but his patience seemed to have deserted him, the combination of the time apart and the news clip of Elizabeth looking delectable in her grey dress and the phone call adding up to conspire against him. He pushed the covers down to his hips, finding them too constrictive as he sat propped against the pillows pretending to read his book.
Car headlights passed across the bedroom ceiling by the window and Henry could hear the low rumble of an engine – several engines, in fact. He'd grown used to the distinct, quiet hum of Elizabeth's motorcade outside the house over the past few months, and its absence had been curiously strange while she was off in Europe. The resumption of the engines in the street outside was weirdly comforting.
At least for a second, because then the anticipation kicked in as soon as he was certain that it was the motorcade and not just a random car passing by, and his heart rate went up a notch and a thrum of need made itself known throughout his body. He thought briefly about running down the stairs to meet Elizabeth at the door and sweep her off her feet like he might have done when he was thirty, but figured the chances of her DS agents seeing him in his boxers were quite high and frankly none of them needed that. Besides, they'd only be coming straight upstairs to bed anyway and part of him – the hopelessly romantic part of him – was really looking forward to seeing his wife walk through the door of their bedroom back to him. The prospect made him feel warm and not just with building arousal.
Henry held himself still, hardly breathing as he listened to the sounds of the street. He heard the car doors opening and the low rumble of male voices and, somewhere in there, Elizabeth. He thought that she was wishing her agents a good night. A few seconds later the front door opened and then closed, and he could practically feel Elizabeth's sigh as she stepped into their home for the first time in too long.
He was very aware of the beat of his heart in his chest, like it was straining to get out. Like it knew that the woman who owned it was home. His skin was tingling and all he wanted was to feel Elizabeth pressed against him and to have her running her hands over him, to hold her tight against him and press slowly inside her and…
There was the sound of her moving around downstairs, the tell-tale thud of her shoes as she kicked them off in the hallway and the soft suction of the refrigerator opening and closing, just about audible with the bedroom door open in the silence of the house.
Oh, he was so glad that the kids were either out or safely in their rooms on the upper floors of the house. This was one of those nights when he just didn't need them interrupting his plans for their mother.
A minute later he heard Elizabeth climbing the stairs, the old wood creaking under her weight. Henry thought that he could hear the fatigue in her step and wondered if she wouldn't prefer just to go straight to sleep when she climbed into bed. It was OK if she did, but it might mean that he needed to vanish to the bathroom for a while to sort himself out or else the anticipation might kill him.
But then she appeared in the doorway and although it was clear she was tired from her trip, the look on her face was practically predatory and, oh, he loved it when she got like this.
"Henry," she breathed, her face lighting up when she saw him sprawled on their bed wearing nothing but his boxers and his wedding ring.
His face crinkled up into a smile and he felt the unexpected press of tears behind his eyes. Oh God. There was no reason to cry. It was stupid to cry. But he had missed her so damn much. Two weeks was too long. "Hey," he replied, casting his book aside on the nightstand and holding one hand out to her, beckoning her closer.
Elizabeth dropped the suitcase she was carrying just inside the bedroom and padded across the floor to him. She was still wearing the grey dress he had seen her in on TV earlier and her hair was shining brilliant and blonde in the dim light despite the nine hour flight she had just taken. Henry could feel the stress leaking out of her and away as she neared him, as though simply being home was a cure. He liked to think that his presence helped, too, and his theory – and his pride – were boosted as a relaxed, happy smile took up home on her face as she came within touching distance and reached out to take his offered hand. "Oh God, am I glad to see you," she murmured.
He wanted to say something to answer her, to echo the sentiment or to tell her that he had missed or that he loved her or to make some quip about their earlier flirty phone conversation. But as soon as she took his hand something sparked within him and he found himself pulling her down to join him on the bed, tugging her to sit on the edge of the mattress and bringing his other hand up to cup the back of her head and guide her mouth to meet his.
She sank into him without resistance, relaxing into him with one hand on his chest and the other still caught up in his, her lips against his in a sweet, reverent kiss that spoke of how glad they were to be reunited.
Only able to keep the kiss chaste for so long, Henry used the hand he had wrapped around Elizabeth's to tug her better into him, catching her off guard so that she had to release his hand and place her palm against the pillow on the other side of him for balance, his tongue pushing past the seal of her lips and into her mouth, stroking in sure, confident movements against hers.
Elizabeth pulled away after a minute, but she didn't go far, barely giving Henry time to feel the loss as she swung her leg over his lap to straddle him, a little awkwardly given her tight dress but it didn't lessen the effect on him. He felt himself harden as her hips pressed down into him – he had been on the verge of arousal for most of the day, ever since he got confirmation that she was on her way home, and now that she was here he couldn't help himself. Lucky that she seemed to be on the same page as him. Her eyes were sparking dark blue and intense as she pressed her forehead to his and smoothed her hands over his chest, her nails scratching lightly at his skin.
"Baby, I missed you," he said, the words coming out of him unbidden, sounding desperate and raw and needy. With anyone else in the world he would have been embarrassed at the depth of primal need in his tone.
She smiled down at him, coy and sexy, like she both understood and was proud of the fact. "I missed you, too," she told him.
Then she took his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his, using her leverage above him to control the kiss and his body, rocking her hips into him but making sure to keep her knees firmly clamped against his sides so he couldn't quite manage to return the favour.
He was more than happy to let her take the lead for a while.
That didn't mean he could just lie passive beneath her while she worked him into a frenzy with her warmth against his groin and her thumb against his chin to hold his mouth open, the better to stroke her tongue against the roof of his mouth. Henry brought his hands up to cup her shoulder blades in his palms, feeling the angles of her against him, back in his arms where she belonged after too long apart. He stroked his hands along the expanse of her back before slowly working down the zipper holding her dress in place.
He was eager to get the garment off her, because as stunning as she looked in it, he knew that she looked sensational without it.
Once the zipper was opened to the base of her back, he trailed his fingers gently up the slim rope of her spine, drawing a shiver from her and prompting her tongue in his mouth to lose just the slightest bit of surety of touch.
He pressed the advantage, tangling the fingers of one hand into her thick blonde hair and angling her head so that he could press his own tongue into her mouth, eliciting a moan from her as he cradled her skull in his palm and stroked his thumb along her temple.
With his other hand he started to coax the grey dress from her shoulders. She reached up to help him, pulling the fabric down to her waist where it bunched around her hips, leaving him with a delectable expanse of bare skin to look at and touch. The blue of her bra was almost the same shade as her eyes and it did something to his heart strings, prompting him to gentle his touch slightly and take the opportunity to savour the moment.
Two weeks without seeing her was too long – and the news on CSPAN did not count. He made a resolution there and then that if she had to go on another, similarly long, trip then he would make an effort to be there for at least part of it. He could deal with being called arm candy in the press if it meant he got to hold his wife at night and enjoy the sensations of her doing exactly what she wanted with him.
Elizabeth wrenched her mouth from his and shifted so that she could pull her dress down over her hips. The weight of her on top of him disappeared for a moment, leaving him feeling open and cold for the three seconds it took her to divest herself of her dress and then she was back over him wearing the sexy blue bra and matching panties, and he was pretty sure he had never seen them before, because he tended to remember when his wife wore beautiful lingerie for him. He trailed one finger over the lower edge of her bra, feeling the heady combination of satin and skin against his finger. "This new?" he asked.
She nodded. "I had a little time to go shopping in Paris." She suddenly looked a little shy as she drew her gaze from his and trailed her fingers over his chest, catching in the hairs here. "Do you like it?"
He pressed his hips up into hers to provide her with the answer. He had no doubt that she would be able to feel him throbbing for her. "I love it." He stretched up to kiss her again. "I love you."
A pretty blush stained her cheeks and he marvelled that he could provoke that reaction in her after so many years – so many decades – together. "I love you, too," she told him. "I love coming home to find you half-naked and half-hard in our bed. I have to say, Dr McCord, it's a turn on."
"Yeah?" he said, feeling the heat rise in his own face at the sincerity of her words and the intensity of her gaze. "I'm glad." He curved his hands around the jut of her hipbones. "And I have to say that having you half-naked and eager for me is the biggest boost to a guy's ego there ever was."
She smiled at him and repeated his words back at him. "I'm glad."
Then she lowered her head and scraped her teeth along his collarbone, eliciting a shudder from him, before she moved lower to kiss his chest, her hands curling around his ribcage to feel the ridges of bone while she sucked one nipple between her lips and laved it with her tongue. It drew a hoarse shout from Henry and he clutched Elizabeth to him, his hands digging into her hips as he willed her to continue.
She gave him exactly what he wanted, kissing her way down his chest and moving her hand slowly up and down his sides, making him feel simultaneously content and aroused beyond belief. She spent a moment pressing kisses to the sensitive skin just below his navel before carefully moving his boxers up over his arousal and then down his legs so that she could pull them off and toss them somewhere behind her.
The combination of the cool air in the room and Elizabeth's hot breath against his erection made Henry's eyes roll back in his head, and all he could do as she lowered her head to him was to carefully twine his fingers in her hair and do his best to keep his eyes open so that he could fully experience every second of her mouth on him.
She held his hips down with her hands and Henry watched in awed pleasure as she drew him further into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing out and her eyes flicking up to meet his as he hit the back of her throat. Her eyes were dark and intense, but still focused and controlled where he was feeling wild and surrendered wholly to the moment. It inspired him to snap back into himself and he used his hands in her hair to gently tug her up his body. She released him and the sudden rush of cold air where her hot, wet mouth had so recently been was a strange blessing, drawing him back from the edge.
Henry slid one hand down to stroke the blue satin of Elizabeth's panties, his thumb teasing at the edge of the fabric. Her breath hitched slightly. He kept his other hand in her hair so he could keep her face angled towards him, wanting to see her reaction to his touch. He ran his hand slowly over her ass, down and around until his fingers could trail over her centre through the silk. He could feel the heat of her through the material and, when he pressed two fingers up against her, she groaned. "God, Henry."
There was no doubt that beneath the barrier of the silk, she was dripping wet and wanting for him. It spurred him on. The mood suddenly urgent, he flipped her over and pressed her body down into the mattress with his, sliding both hands beneath her to unclasp her bra before pulling it from her body and lowering his head to tug one nipple into his mouth. He cupped her other breast in one hand, feeling the soft weight against his palm and enjoying the cry that Elizabeth gave at the sudden sensation.
When he had her writhing and bucking against him, her fingernails leaving half-moons in the skin of his lower back, he shifted so that he could remove her panties, dislodging her grip on him so that he could slide them down her legs and off, leaving them discarded at the foot of the bed. He had to be inside her. His body was desperate for hers, but not as desperate as his heart and mind were to wrap them up in a cocoon of two for as long as possible.
On his way back up her body, he paused at the juncture of her thighs to press her legs apart with his hands and lowered his mouth to give a hard, swift kiss to her clit, making her groan and buck into him. Later he would take his time bringing her to pieces with his mouth and his hands, but for now he just needed her and he knew from the way she was so eager to drag him back up her body that she agreed.
He would usually have braced his hands on either side of her head to keep his weight off her while he made love to her, but tonight he needed to be closer and her hands on his back and his ass pulling him down to her told him that she wanted that, too. Henry lowered his torso onto hers, resting some of his weight on his forearms but aware that Elizabeth would be able to feel the bulk of him over her. She reached down between them to grasp his erection and guide it to her entrance where she was slick and wanting for him. Henry huffed out a breath at the feel of her hand so intimately on him after so long apart.
He pressed inside her slowly, feeling the delicious stretch of her muscles around him as he buried himself as deep as he could go. All the way in, he took a moment to savour the sensation, the wet heat of her clutching him and the solid warmth of her arms around his back and her legs wrapping around his waist, his chest pressed to hers and his weight bearing her down into the mattress. He kissed her once, twice. "So good, sweetheart."
She nodded in agreement, the movement jerky and her earlier control no longer in evidence. Good. He didn't want to be the only one desperate for this. "Henry," she said.
"I'm here."
He started to move then, drawing back from her slowly before pressing back in with one smooth stroke, picking up the pace and giving himself over to the known sensation of his most basic self taking over his usually calm and measured exterior. Elizabeth was the only person he'd ever been able to truly lose himself with, the only one he'd ever trusted enough and been comfortable enough with to properly let go of all his inhibitions and just feel. The past two weeks had given him a taste of what it would be like without her, and he didn't like it, and it made him want to keep her with him, keening beneath him, all the more.
Henry could see the pleasure on Elizabeth's face as he drove into her again, one hand at her breast to stroke her nipple and send jolts of pure sensation all throughout her body. But he could see the frustration too as she strived for climax but it wouldn't quite come. He dipped his head to kiss her and moved his hand down to her clit, rubbing firmly with his thumb twice, three times, when she stiffened beneath him and tightened around him and her hands on his back clutched him in a death grip and a cry tore from her throat as the orgasm surged through her. "Henry!"
He felt a surge of masculine pride at seeing her come apart beneath him so completely and the rhythmic clench of her walls around him set him on the straight path of his own undoing. There was the tightening in his gut and the tingle in his lower back as he neared completion and he wanted to draw it out, wanted it to last longer, didn't want to leave her body, but he was unable to resist when Elizabeth came back to herself, cupping the back of his head with one hand to kiss him fiercely and dragging her other hand down his side until she could reach between them to brush her fingers against where they were joined and sending sparks of heat through him with each stroke into her.
He came on a cry, arching into her and releasing inside her while her fingers stroked his face, letting him ride it out. The tremors continued low in his abdomen even as he collapsed onto her in exhaustion. "Elizabeth," he said, sure for a moment that there was something else he was going to say but then deciding that her name was enough, that it said everything he needed to tell her.
She twitched around him as he carefully withdrew and then rolled to the side, wrapping his arms around her so that she came with him to sprawl on his chest. He was aware that she was already sliding towards sleep, the long trip back from Europe no doubt catching up with her. She pressed a sleepy kiss against his sternum over the place where his heart was still beating madly in the aftermath of his release, and would continue to beat madly for her until the day he died.
"'s good to be home," she murmured, nuzzling against him and settling her body comfortably alongside his.
He nodded, his nose brushing against the softness of her hair. "I love that you come home to me," he said, feeling himself following her rapidly towards dreams. "Your brilliant brain and sexy lingerie and beautiful dresses and you." He kissed her forehead. "Always you."
"And you," she said as sleep claimed her.
He hummed in the back of his throat as he felt her go boneless against him. "And me," he agreed. "You always have me. Always."
Sleep took him seconds later.