A/N: Hello! Here is some cheesy smut. It is very cheesy like gorgonzola and it is not chapter 11 of Heat of the Bullet, which is what I was probably supposed to write, but… yeah. I'm just glad to have some words on a page after so long. I hope it's okay, and that the smell of cheese is alluring rather than overpowering. Partly inspired by a Tumblr prompt from lilacmermaid25: Henry has never been bad at anything he's ever tried in his life, but he's really bad at this.
Otherwise known as: Henry is really terrible at pick-up lines.
Come on, baby
Henry sat at the foot of the bed, watching with mild amusement as Elizabeth stood in front of the mirror wearing yet another possible outfit for the state dinner she was scheduled to attend in four days' time.
She frowned as she looked at herself in the glass, adjusting the top of the dress and shifting as though it was the wrong size even though it fit her like a glove. "I'm not sure this works," she said, her face crinkling in frustration.
Casting a sweeping glance down her body, Henry wondered what he should say. Elizabeth had tried on three other dresses already, and despite his very sincere assurances to the contrary, she seemed to be going through a period of unfounded insecurity. Telling her you look great, babe, for the fourth time in under an hour was unlikely to convince her that she looked fantastic.
Which she did. The black dress with white detailing was classy and perfectly suited to both Elizabeth and the state dinner she was modelling it for.
But how could he get her to believe him?
Henry had an idea.
He stood up from the bed and crossed the room to stand behind his wife, sliding his arms around her waist and trying to catch her gaze in the mirror. He smiled at her even as she continued to tug at the neckline of the dress, ignoring him. He wondered what it would take to get her attention. Maybe he should try a more original phrase than you look great in case it was his compliments that were the problem. "Hey, babe?" he said.
"Hmm?" Elizabeth finally looked up, but her attention was still mostly on the reflection of the dress and not him.
Here goes nothing. "Did you hit your head?" he said.
That made her look at him, albeit with suspicion. Silence stretched for four seconds, five. Then she asked, "What?"
He found himself fumbling suddenly as Elizabeth stiffened in front of him like she was braced for an insult. It took him a minute to realise why. Asking her if she hit her head and failing to follow it up swiftly with an explanation was probably not the best way to pay his wife a compliment. He attempted to fix it. "Did you… hit your head?" he asked again. Unwisely. Idiot. "I mean… it must have hurt. When you fell." A pause that was perhaps a beat too long. "From heaven."
Crap.
Elizabeth stared at him in the mirror, her face reading… what was that? He didn't think he'd seen that expression on her before. Silence reigned. Henry held himself very still, careful not to move his hands on her waist lest he remind her that he was still touching her during this moment of foolishness. He held his breath.
Then she snorted.
A splutter left her lips as she collapsed into laughter, her body rocking against his and her head tipping back against his shoulder as she laughed at him. "Oh God, Henry," she said. "Seriously?" She took a breath. "That was awful."
She met his gaze again in the mirror and whatever she saw there set her off into giggles again.
Henry fought to keep the grin from his face and replied with mock seriousness that was fooling nobody, "Hey, I'm trying to pay you a compliment here."
Elizabeth forced a sober expression over her mirth. "I'm sorry, baby. Go ahead."
Well. That was just asking for it, wasn't it? He wracked his brain for a moment then gave her a cocky smile. "Well, after that response, you can kiss heaven goodbye. Because it has to be a sin to look that good."
She laughed again. "Oh, wow."
"Hey, I'm trying here!" Thing was – he actually was trying. And Elizabeth undoubtedly knew it and it would be that which was fuelling at least part of her laughter. Henry might feel the slightest bit offended if it hadn't worked so well to get her to relax for a minute.
"I know." Her face softened. "Thank you, Henry. I needed that."
He raised one hand to her cheek to turn her face to his so that he could press a gentle kiss to her lips. "You're welcome. And you look beautiful. The dress really suits you." He kept his hand on her face so that she couldn't look away and miss the sincerity in his gaze.
Elizabeth smiled shyly and it blew Henry's mind that she could still be occasionally bashful after so many years. "Thanks," she whispered, and she sounded like she believed that he believed it – but not as though she really believed it.
He would ask her later what had put those thoughts in her head, but he sensed that now was not the time to go deep. "I mean it," he said. "It's perfect. You're perfect. You're going to slay at that state dinner on Thursday."
"Not literally, I hope," Elizabeth replied. "We're supposed to be showing what good friends we are with France. It may not go down so well if I slay their President at a dinner in his honour."
Henry figured if she was making quips she was probably back on track. But that didn't mean he still couldn't have his fun, especially when he was enjoying himself so much – and when Elizabeth really did look so damn good in her black and white dress. He turned her around in his arms to face him. "Seriously," he said, with as much intent and purpose as he could muster.
She looked at him expectantly like she was expecting him to say something real and profound.
He looked at her with an expression full of love. Then he said, "I think there must be a magnet in that dress. Because I am so attracted to you right now."
Elizabeth groaned at Henry's awful come on, her eyes squeezing shut in a cringe. Her husband was such a natural charmer, always eloquent and good with his words, but when he brought the pick-up lines? Not so much.
But still, she loved him for doing it. She had been caught up in herself as she had tried on dresses for the state dinner, nit-picking every flaw and unable to hear Henry even as he had given her compliments that she knew were honestly meant. At least his ridiculous lines had snapped her out of it, and the sincerity with which he had convinced her that the dress was good had her filling up with warmth.
He really could be very sweet.
Elizabeth opened her eyes to find Henry still looking at her, obviously enjoying her reaction to his lines. "That was terrible," she said, but her voice held no real criticism, her tone soft and her body arching into him.
"I have more," Henry said, his tone matching hers, but he didn't get a chance to demonstrate because she stretched up to kiss him then, her arms sliding around his neck to draw his face down to hers.
His lips parted for her easily, and Elizabeth enjoyed the press of his mouth against hers while his hands roamed her back, dragging over the sumptuous fabric of her dress. She felt the material moving against her body, heavy and cool, and she thought that the sensuous nature of it was a point in its favour.
"No, really," Henry mumbled against her mouth. "I promise, it's good." He sealed his promise with a heated kiss.
Elizabeth pulled back just enough to speak, and brought her hands in between them to start to undo his shirt buttons. "In that case…"
Henry's fingers tripped up her spine, eliciting a shiver in their wake. His voice was a low rumble. "In an election of hotness, you'd win by a landslide."
"You're bringing the politics now, are you?"
"You can spoil my ballot whenever you like."
"Stop."
"Okay, something different… You don't need keys to drive me crazy."
"How are you so bad at this?" she wondered aloud, and then, as heat pulsed through her, wondered privately that it was damn well doing it for her, anyway. She pulled Henry's face back to hers to kiss him and let her tongue duel with his for a minute before parting to gasp in a breath. "Drive me crazy, Henry," she ordered.
"With pleasure," he answered in the second before she could cut him off with another searing kiss.
The force of her kiss made him stumble back a couple of steps but it didn't take him long to catch up with her enthusiasm, hands grasping at her hips to haul her against him, his fingers clenching against the soft fabric of her dress. Elizabeth opted to keep up the momentum, directing Henry backwards with her hands on his chest, only breaking their kiss when they reached the bed and he flopped down onto the mattress and then lay looking up at her, his expression a little slack-jawed.
She didn't need him to explain to her that he was enjoying her passion. She also didn't need to tell him that she was looking for him to take her mind off all thoughts of work and dresses and the looming state dinner and, bless her wonderful husband, he was gleefully indulging her.
He hooked his ankle around the back of her leg, tugging until she took the last half-step to the bed and her shins knocked against the frame. "Do you have a map?" he asked her curiously.
He let the question hang for long enough that she was prompted to ask against her better judgement, "Why?"
"Because I keep getting lost in your eyes."
She closed her eyes for a moment so that he could find himself again. She shook her head. "Okay, for that, you've gotta take your shirt off. I'm sorry. That was too terrible." She held out her hands expectantly.
"Oh, you're extracting penance now?" He might have been trying to look wounded but his eyes gave away how much fun he was having.
"I am, yes." She reached down to pluck at his half-unbuttoned shirt. "Give it to me."
Elizabeth stood and waited while Henry finished unbuttoning his shirt and then shrugged out of it, tugging it out from beneath him so that he could hand it over with a glint in his eye. A glint that made her quirk an eyebrow and say, with an element of making fun, "Did you steal the stars from the sky?" She discarded the shirt on the floor behind her and put one knee on the bed beside Henry's leg so that she could carefully lower herself over him, straddling his waist and cupping his head in her hands. The flowing skirt of her dress pooled around their legs. She waited until she was properly settled before she answered her own question in a whisper: "Because I can see them in your eyes."
Beneath her, Henry looked as though he was caught between laughter and melting into her. For a second his face was an odd mixture of the two before he settled for melting – but only a little. The glint in his eye remained. "You need to give me a kiss for that."
"That's my penance for a bad line?"
"It is."
"You don't want my dress?" She had been betting that he would go for the dress.
Henry smiled. "Oh, I'm going to take that, too. But kiss me first."
Who was she to deny him? Elizabeth tipped down to kiss him, holding his head in place so that she could direct the kiss as she wanted and encouraging his tongue to stroke alongside hers. It sent darts of heat shooting through her, and the heat was joined by prickling anticipation as Henry's large hands stroked firmly up her sides and then around to seek out the fastening at the back of her dress.
His fingers gently brushed her hair out of the way, sending the soft strands falling down around their faces, and then he caught hold of the small tag at the top of the zipper. He lowered it slowly, letting his fingers trail along behind, sending electric shivers down her spine.
She gentled their kiss as his hand moved down her back, savouring the feeling of him undressing her so carefully while his chest was pressed so close to hers she could feel the thump of his heart. She pulled his top lip into her mouth for a moment before releasing him and hovering millimetres away, her breath mingling with his as she exhaled. "Hey, thief, you stole my heart."
Henry smiled up at her, one hand coming up to brush her hair back behind her ear. He stretched his neck to press a sweet kiss to her lips and when he drew back his expression had turned wicked. "And now I'm going to steal your dress."
Enjoying the sight of Elizabeth above him, Henry held her ribcage as he eased her back off him to stand at the side of the bed.
As it turned out, he didn't need to steal her dress because she gave it to him instead, holding his gaze as she slid out of the heavy garment and tossed it onto the bed next to him in a heap of black and white satin. Henry hardly noticed; he was too busy staring at Elizabeth as she stood there in a black silk slip and matching underwear. He wondered if she was planning on wearing that ensemble under her dress to the state dinner.
That had the potential to be a very long and frustrating evening.
He held his hand out to her and she laced her fingers with his. "You're beautiful," he told her simply, sincerely, hoping to chase away whatever doubts had been plaguing her while she had been standing in front of the mirror trying on dresses.
She squeezed his hand and climbed back onto the bed, tugging up his t-shirt as she went, whipping it off over his head when he lifted his shoulders to help her. She straddled him again and dipped like she was going to kiss him, but Henry stopped her with his hands on her shoulders, wanting a moment just to look at her, take in her face. He raised himself up again to brush a kiss just beneath her left eye and then her right one. "Your eyes are so blue." He fell back against the bed, taking her down with him. "I'm lost at sea."
Not giving her time to form a retort, he lost himself in her then, wrapping his arms tight around her and kissing her with all the love he felt for her, and with reassurance, too. Elizabeth let out a little noise that wasn't quite a moan when he stroked his palms against her shoulder blades and let his thumbs bracket her spine, and Henry felt heat collecting low within him. Watching his wife spend the better part of an hour dressing and undressing as she tried on outfits had not left him unaffected, and the last ten minutes had left him feeling very affected.
And when she rocked her hips against his, he found it extremely affecting.
Henry tightened his grip on her and then rolled her beneath him, sliding his hands around so that he could stroke her nipples through her silk slip, knowing that the cool fabric moving against her skin would add to the sensations. He wasn't disappointed in her reaction and he broke their kiss so that he could watch her face, her eyes closing and her head tipping back as she pressed herself more firmly into his hands.
He took advantage, lowering his head to nip at her throat, feeling her pulse jump against his lips. He lingered there for a minute, sucking her skin gently until Elizabeth dislodged him with a light push to the side of his head. "No hickeys for the state dinner," she instructed.
He was about to reply that he was sure the French of all people would understand when Elizabeth distracted him by running her hands down his chest, her nails scraping against his skin with just enough bite to make him hiss. It spurred him on and he tugged her slip up and over her head without ceremony, before pulling back momentarily so he could lose the rest of his clothes.
Reaching out, he ran his hands up Elizabeth's legs, enjoying the feel of her smooth skin against his palms. He hooked his fingers under the waistband of her lacy underwear and then paused, looking down at her and drinking her in. He didn't think there was a better sight in the world than his wife when they were together like this. He was more than ready for her.
Elizabeth shifted against him. "Henry," she prompted, trying to spur him to action.
He smiled, feeling the need to give her the opportunity to extract a little more penance from him. "You're so hot you should be listed as a cause of global warming." He drew her underwear down her legs and off.
"Oh my God." Her tone suggested that she was embarrassed for him. Her hands covering her face confirmed it. "Henry. How did you never learn any good come on lines?"
Lowering himself over her, making sure to touch as much of her skin as possible along the way, he considered the question. "Because I met you," he answered, pressing a kiss to her temple and letting out a groan of enjoyment as Elizabeth's hands moved from her face to run over his back. "And then I never needed to."
"You saying that I'm easy, McCord?"
He chuckled. "No, I'm saying that I could be honest with you." He cupped her face in one hand and gave her a lingering kiss. "Why would I give you some crummy line when instead I could tell you I think you're smart and interesting and gorgeous, and make you smile at me for real? Just like that," he added, when the smile he loved so much bloomed over her face.
"You're sweet," she told him. "I'm glad you went with honesty rather than cheesy lines."
"Hey, not all of the lines are that cheesy." Henry reached between them so that he could slide his hand between her legs and check that she was ready for him. "And here's a great line for you – the best line, which also has the benefit of being completely true."
She looked up at him expectantly.
"I love you," he whispered, as he slowly pressed himself inside her body.
Elizabeth rocked against him as he slid into her, her arms holding him close and her legs coming up to wrap around his waist and keep him where he was. "That is a good line," she agreed. "I love you, too."
Henry smiled. "Come on, baby." He winked and then kissed her briefly. "Let's do this."
He started to move then, enjoying the feel of her holding onto him so eagerly and the way she pressed hot kisses to his neck and shoulders with each thrust of his hips. He knew he wasn't going to last long and so he pressed two fingers against her clit, wanting to be sure that she was with him.
"Yes," she said, and he knew that she was already close, too.
Henry couldn't resist teasing her just a little more – not when his excellent flirting skills had obviously been going down so well. "Hey, are you a magician? Because you've made everything but you and me disappear."
Elizabeth laughed at the awfulness of it. "Really, Henry?"
"I've got more."
She shifted beneath him, pressing her hips firmly into his. "I don't doubt it."
"Did the sun come out? Or did you just smile at me?" His words were increasingly breathless as he felt his orgasm approaching.
She didn't reply, instead just holding onto him tightly, her fingers digging in to his shoulder muscles as she gasped.
Henry stroked his hand down her side. "Come for me," he whispered.
She did – and then he did, too, and it was quiet for a while but for the sound of their breathing and the rapid thump of Henry's heart that sounded loud in his ears as he collapsed onto Elizabeth, trying to catch his breath.
He felt her starting to relax beneath him. Her hand stroked gently down his arm and her breathing started to slow, and Henry felt pride that he had managed to distract her so thoroughly from her concerns over the dress that lay crumpled next to them on the bed. He could practically feel the stress leeching away from Elizabeth, and he thought she might be close to falling asleep.
He tapped her side to get her attention. "Hey, babe?"
She made a noise of acknowledgement.
"At the next election, I'm totally going to vote for you." He paused to turn his head and smudge a kiss to her cheek. "Because you tick all of my boxes."
There was a very small chance that her answering groan might have been one of amusement.