A/N: Hello! Here's a little cheeky and fun NSFW piece.
Hope you enjoy!
"Henry," she breathes, swatting his hand away blindly. She'd just finished tucking her shirt in and tugging it back out a little, and she was about to grab a blazer off a hanger when she had to redirect her hands. Her body turns away from the closet and tries to glimpse at Henry whose fingers are still lingering around her zipper.
When she turns, she sees the smirk gracing his face that she wants to get off—by one way or another. She had some ideas in mind. But she couldn't give in—not this morning—not while running this late. She turns back to her clothes and reaches back with both hands, zipping the skirt back up after he'd gotten it down an inch or so.
She breathes out when she feels his hands again, but this time tickling at the bottom of her ribs. As she reaches for a blazer, she stops with her hand on the shoulder pad, "You know I'm already running late," she reminds, her hand still resting on the hanger, "Blake is going to get suspicious—you know he gets suspicious about these things." She says, attempting to remind him about two weeks ago when Henry had come for lunch and dined on more than just their packed sandwiches. Blake was suspicious then, but he didn't say anything. She couldn't blame him for catching on, of course. She knew she looked disheveled when they came back out of her office.
What Blake didn't know is that, for extra security, they'd spent much of her lunch time in her small bathroom. A tight space, but it made it even more exciting.
"You're the Secretary of State," he almost whines, his hands resting now at her waist and sliding down to the widest part of her hips, stopping there. She bites at her lip, listening to his tone drop as he reminds her of this position. This power position, as she likes to remember it. His thumbs slide up toward her waistband and rub circles deep into those muscles, and her right leg buckles just slightly as she tightens her eyes shut even further and tries to compose herself. "They'll wait on you. You know they will." He's leaning into her right ear with the last sentence, his lips just barely brushing underneath her earlobe before he pushes a soft, singular kiss to her skin there.
Her head falls over to her left on its own premonition, and she's bringing her shoulder up as though she's about to shrug him off. She starts to turn and stop him again but feels a tug at her zipper once more, and she looks over her shoulder with one brow raised, "Just because I'm Secretary of State doesn't mean my dentist has all day to wait around." She attempts to contest, reaching around to swat his hand again right before in one, swift movement he slides the zipper about halfway down.
This time, her skirt falls a few inches down her hips. As it slides, she sucks her breath in through her tight lips and clenches her eyes shut. It's not that she didn't want it. There's rarely a time she doesn't give in to him, and even more rarely a time when she doesn't want to give in to him. And it goes both ways. However, Henry is more a morning person whereas she gets spurts of excitement at night. Mornings make her late, and he's sleepy at night, and they both occasionally just make it work.
Today's no different for her—she'll be late for her dentist appointment. Blake and the motorcade had just pulled up outside while Stevie took Alison and Jason to school for them this morning. She knows he'll be even more suspicious the later he has to wait, and to not be able to blame the kids is even worse. Her mind is trying to be logical.
But now his hands are sliding inside the waistband of her skirt, pushing it down toward her knees. Before it reaches her mid-thigh, she turns suddenly and grabs onto his biceps, digging her fingers into his muscles as she watches him bite his lip, keeping himself from a big, goofy smile.
She raises her brow, "Henry McCord," she breathes, almost panting already. The thrill of the quickness and the secrecy and the lateness is getting to her. Her hands soften and then squeeze again, and she glances around the corner to peek at the clock on his nightstand. She lets out a breath forcefully as she shuts her eyes, bringing her head straight again. She swallows thick, "Bed."
She'd barely mumbled it before he was scooping her up, and with a gentle toss, she's on the bed and kicking out of her skirt. When he crawls on the bed, she sits up and takes her clothes off quickly, leaving only her bra on as she quickly works at the button and zipper on his pants. Quickly, she makes a decision that she knows she won't regret, though she also knows they'll probably end up finishing this little escapade this evening. He kicks his pants off, and she pushes him down by pressing on his chest. "We're running on little time," she reminds in a husky tone.
Instead of straddling his hips, she turns around, straddles his chest, and leans down to take him in her mouth—the decision she'd made. She feels his hands on her ass, and he's massaging circles before she pushes backward into him, and she feels the vibrations of his moans between her legs.
Her eyes shut as she smooths out her up and down movements, using her hand, too. The thought quickly flashes through her mind about how lucky she is that she doesn't even have to tell him the plan, the decision. He just gets it.
He grabs at her thighs, pulling her into him, and she's trying to focus on what she's doing as he's already bringing her to stars. Her mouth falls open momentarily before she quickly tries to suction again, moving once more.
With a pop, she slides her lips away from him, then looks back and moans at the sight of him between her legs. "God, Henry," she murmurs, feeling like she was about to melt into a puddle. She takes a sharp breath when his tongue slides into her and slides back out so quickly, and she falls forward and takes him in her mouth again.
Her decision was a good one. In only minutes, they were both getting dressed again, and she was making her way to the door after quickly brushing her teeth for the second time this morning.
Walking in the house, she feels her blood boiling again. She storms into the kitchen, no light coming through the windows as the sun had gone down too long ago. Another late evening at work, but she hasn't forgotten the dealings of this morning.
She lays eyes on him. Her lips press together and her jaw cocks to the side as she breathes in through her nose, her head tilting over just slightly.
He looks up from whatever he was reading—she didn't pause to look. Instead, she's looking around for whatever is in her path between where she was standing and him. "Hey babe," he murmurs, a sweet smile on his face as he starts to become aware of something happening.
Picking up the first thing she finds (what she momentarily thinks may be a stack of his ungraded student papers), she pushes toward him in a war-like motion. She's rolled the papers up loose and quick, and she swats him on the head with it.
"What are—" he's throwing his arms up in defense, trying to keep her from hitting him.
"Don't even." She snaps, tossing the half-rolled stack of papers on the table where his book is laying.
He's dumbfounded, staring at her like he'd just seen a ghost. She realizes that, maybe, her reaction was a little overdone. Maybe. But she also is fueled by the utter embarrassment she felt this morning and has dealt with all day since then. And it's been an extra long day—one she's been able to fume about even more.
She crosses her arms and stares at him, but he isn't saying anything. "Well," she hisses, "Aren't you going to ask why I just did that?"
"Well," he almost mocks, "Yeah. I would love to if I thought I wasn't going to get violated again."
She locks her jaw and squeezes her teeth into each other, tightening her arms around her chest as she glances around. "Where are the kids?"
"In bed," he says, confusion dripping in his tone.
Her eyes dart to the stairs and then back down at him, and she leans backward against the table and half-sits on it. "Would you like to know what happened at the dentist this morning?" She leads on, fuming all over again as she leans in his direction, ready to thwack him once more.
He's staring at her with his mouth hanging open, "I—I'm not sure that I—"
"Oh, you do." She says, reaching for the papers again just to watch him jump. She wasn't actually going to hit him this time. Not yet anyway.
He widens his eyes and shuts his mouth, blinking at her. "Fine. What happened?" He asks, now more curious than confused.
She huffs a breath from her nose before she cocks her jaw to the side again, wondering where to start. "The hygienist was cleaning my teeth," she says, trying to stay calm throughout it all. "And when the dentist came in, she wanted to show him some marking on the roof of my mouth." Henry's face is still utterly confused, and honestly, so was hers at this point as she was sitting in the dentist's chair with her mouth wide open. "She pointed out the discoloring I had and the little red marks. She's new." She says, dropping into a petty tone as she squints her eyes at him, giving Henry a fake smile. "The dentist didn't say anything for a long time, and I finally got a little concerned. You know, picture it—me, sitting there in that chair, my mouth wide open while his hands are just looking around in there." She says, her head thrown back in a dramatic motion as she digs around in her own mouth to mock the situation.
She brings her head back up and raises her brow at him. "So I say, 'Hey, what's going on?' while his hands are in my mouth." She says, keeping her hands in her mouth to really sell the theatrics. "And he proceeds to tell me that there's some discoloring back there due to excessive suction or pressure." She says, and Henry's face drops. "Yeah. You heard me." She says again, driving her points home. "So, though he had the little glasses on, I could see his eyes searching for some way to lie to me or some way to get himself out of this. His face, Henry…God, his face was turning red everywhere that I could see it over the mask. He then explained to me and his innocent little hygienist that it's nothing to be alarmed about."
She feels a rage again and reaches for the papers, but he's quicker than her this time and slides them away from her. He stares at her, and their eyes both fall at the same time to his paperback book that had been laying on the table. "Don't you dare." He mumbled.
She reaches for it but he grabs it, too, and they both stand up. "I can't believe the embarrassment I experienced this morning, Henry!" She cries out.
He shrugs his shoulders, keeping them up around his ears, "I didn't know that they'd be able to tell!" He says, "And besides, that was—"
"Don't even say it was my idea!" She half-yells, knowing she has to keep her voice down because of the kids. Besides, she wasn't angry at him, per se, just so embarrassed and mortified and every word in between. "I was trying to get there on time."
"How'd that work out for you?"
It was the wrong thing to say. He knew it. She knew it. But he's still standing there smiling. Until he's not.
She lunges at him and he's laughing, "Stop, stop." He says, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."
Without much of a fight, she stops herself. She wasn't really aiming to hurt him, she just wanted to threaten the hell out of him and maybe rattle him a little. What she wanted to do most was tackle him to the ground and shake him a little, then make him go to the dentist and find some way to embarrass him. But she was above that.
She thinks.
"Yeah, you shouldn't have." She murmurs, reaching back and ripping her blazer off her arms from being so sweaty now. She tosses it on the counter and catches a glimpse of him still smiling, and she groans. "Why do you think this is funny, Henry? It was so mortifying."
"Because!" He says, then reaches out for her.
At first, she denies him, but he tilts his head and she gives in. She leans her head into his shoulder, sighing.
"It was funny to imagine all this going on," he admits, "Especially the way you did the whole production." And she knows it probably was a funny little production. Yet, she still wanted to hit him a little. "I'm sorry it embarrassed you and I'm sorry I had a part in it," he says, and the genuineness in his tone makes her feel a smidge better.
She cuts her eyes up at him and then drops them back down, not wanting to speak just yet.
"Babe," he says, "I am sorry." He says softly, "And I'm sorry for making fun of it all."
"No you're not."
He snorts, "Okay, maybe I'm only a little sorry for making fun of it." He admits, then looks down at her and gives her a cheeky smile, "But you have to admit, it is a little funny."
She stares at him, not wanting to laugh, but she finally breaks down with a smile and a breath out. She looks down and nods, "I guess it was kind of funny." She admits, "But the embarrassment outweighed it all." She continues. She looks back up at him again, "You owe me big time." She warns.
He runs his hands down the sides of her arms gently, smiling sweetly at her and turning back into that gentle and kind husband she knows and loves. "Anything." He says.
She raises her brow, "Be careful."
"I mean it."
She thinks for a moment, then looks up the stairs and thinks back to this morning. "Foot rub," she says first, making it known she's about to be listing things off and that he needs to be taking either mental or physical notes. "Bath, plus neck rub. No funny business." She warns, leaning into him, "Because I want the funny business before the bath." She whispers in his ear.