A/N: Hello! Been a while since I wrote a good, old fashioned, downright smutty chapter.
Obviously NSFW...but I hope you enjoy :)
Georgetown, 2015
Agent Cooper
I glanced at Matt as he sat in the passenger seat, and he was already looking at me. "Madam Secretary," I said, shifting my eyes from him to the road and then in the rearview mirror to glance at her every once in a while, "I don't know that it's a good idea."
"With all due respect, ma'am," Matt chimed in, "Cooper is right. I don't think this place is the most secure."
The silence from the backseat caused me to pause at the greenlight—I needed to turn if she was still persistent about going into The Brass Mug. When I glanced back this time, though, I saw her and Dr. McCord looking at each other, and he was reassuring her. I flipped my turn signal on and whipped into the parking lot.
"Cooper," Matt whispered, "What are you doing?"
I shrugged, keeping my eyes forward as I pulled up the door, "Doing what the Secretary asked," I replied, sighing as I dragged my eyes over to see Matt's disapproving gaze. I shrugged again, pressing my lips together and glancing in the rearview, seeing her gathering her coat and Henry digging out a ball cap from his bag for her to wear.
He put a beanie on his head, and she laughed, and I hadn't heard her laugh yet since I started protecting the Secretary. She had the kind of laugh that you couldn't help but smile, even though when I looked at Matt again, he was not smiling.
Instead, he was yanking at the door handle, pushing it open and almost throwing himself out of the vehicle with a huff only I would have been able to hear. I reached for my own handle, too, after putting the Tahoe in park and letting it idle there. I shut my door and stood outside the Secretary's door, waiting for Matt and the other agent following us, Branson, to give me the all-clear.
I heard the bar's music whenever they opened the door again, and Matt shouted, "All clear," and I reached back and opened the Secretary's door.
When her feet touched the ground, I watched as her coat hung loose around her and she pulled the ball cap down over her eyebrows. "How do I look, Cooper?" She asked, a hint of playfulness in her voice as her hand rested on the bill. "You think people will recognize me in this?"
I looked at the logo on the cap, the words "The Mighty Acorns" written in a circular fashion surrounding the outline of a baseball player. When she turned to the side to look at Henry, the smile never leaving her face, I saw "Charlottesville Little League Champions – 2007" written on the side. "I think you've got a good chance of not being recognized, Madam Secretary," I replied, gripping the door handle as she moved out of the way, not before taking Henry's hand, though.
I shut the door and followed the two of them closely, Branson on the other side of Henry, Matt in the front. She chattered away quietly, leaning into Henry's shoulder, his breath visible whenever he'd laugh at her. He wrapped his arm around the small of her back when we walked in, and I somehow knew that she was going to be just fine—that he was more protection than we could've even imagined providing.
The music was loud on the inside, too, just as loud as it was outside. "Ma'am," I heard Matt saying, but she wasn't able to hear him at all because she was talking to the bartender who promptly slid her a Yuengling Lager after popping the top. Henry paid the woman, and they strolled over to the pool table.
I looked around quickly, noticing that no one seemed to even notice them—the place was pretty full and smelled like smoke, and of course the cloud of smoke lingered in every corner of this old bar. The carpet underneath my feet was rolled up in some areas, probably from too many years of rowdy Georgetown students, and it looked like it hadn't been cleaned since maybe 1978.
I looked up to see Matt approaching the Secretary again, and I just reached out for his shoulder and firmly placed my hand there, "Just let them be," I said, and he sighed. He was still new to the job—one of the replacements after Agent Kendall was killed in Iran. I missed my old partner, but I was beginning to think Matt would do.
"What'd we do?" I heard the voice from behind me, and then I saw the bartender staring right at us, her eyes shifting back and forth between me and Matt, and then Branson and Hudson at the other corner of the room. "Serve a senator's kid last week or something?"
I snorted, shaking my head and just turning back to watch the Secretary—they had no idea who she was.
My eyes landed on her as Henry was putting coins into the pool table. From the other corner of the room, near where Branson and Hudson were, they were starting the karaoke line off strong with a man singing "Friends in Low Places" while holding what I would say was maybe his sixth beer, swaying along to the music as he got his buddies in on the swaying, too. Amused, I turned my attention back to the Secretary, my hands clasped in front of my hips, and I watched as two men come up to them both.
Matt tensed next to me, and I couldn't help but tense, too. But then I overheard the conversation, dialing in and focusing hard over the bad Garth Brooks rendition: "You come here often?" The man asked.
"We don't," Henry stepped in, getting slightly in front of his wife's shoulder.
The man balances himself on his pool stick, and the other guy patted Henry on the shoulder and laughed, "How about we team up for a game?"
Henry eyed the man's hand for a moment, then looked at Elizabeth who was, in my opinion, about to giggle. She nodded, "Haven't played in a while," I heard her say, "I may be rusty."
I felt Matt lean over, and I leaned over, too, so he could say it quietly: "What do we do if she starts hustling these guys?"
I shrugged, "Let it happen, I guess." I said, but then I smirked when I saw the men square up the balls while Elizabeth inspected them carefully from behind Henry, chalking her stick with precision as she watched them. "She's not hustling anyone," I said, clearing my throat, "She's blowing off steam. Staying sharp." I added the last part when I saw her eyeing the table with an eaglelike gaze.
If I were a betting man, I would've wagered on that game.
And I would've won big, too, because the Secretary and Dr. McCord cleaned the table quickly, leaving the other guys to beg for another round. "We were going easy on the lady," one said, and Henry laughed at them and waved them off.
"It was a pleasure playing you fellas," he said, patting the one on the shoulder who had patted him before the game, "My wife and I are going to play a round alone now."
"Ahh, come on," the other guy said while the one stared at Henry's hand on his shoulder. Matt was still tense, or maybe newly tensed again, but I knew Henry could hold his own. "Let us play with the pretty lady one more time."
"I gotta show my husband that I still got it first, boys." Elizabeth said, eyeing Henry with a smirk on her face, and I turned away with my face feeling a bit hotter than it should've. I'd never seen her be so affectionate, so flirtatious, and it was refreshing yet startling to see my boss in this manner.
When the guys went to the pool on the other side of the room from them, my eyes followed them until they put their coins in and started a new game, and then I returned my eyes back to the Secretary. She was racking the balls this time, and Henry was saying something to her that I couldn't quite make out.
He leaned into her ear and she, this time, let out a giggle. I turned away again, fixating my gaze on the newest karaoke singer doing "I Wanna Dance With Somebody" by Whitney Houston. Flicking back to her for a moment, I watched as she turned around in his arm, putting her hand up to his jaw and rubbing her fingers along his skin, and I flicked back away.
Vincent Marsh was never affectionate with his wife, I thought to myself, blinking as I couldn't help but looking at the Secretary's smile from the side view, what do I even do in this situation?
I felt the anxiety rising up in my chest, wondering if tonight was the night I was going to see my boss make out with her husband. I'd seen her hold his hand, I'd seen them kiss each other goodbye when she'd leave for far away trips, and I watched as I brought her back to meet Henry after she'd been involved in that explosion in Iran. I'd seen them be intimate, but not this way, not so outwardly and unbridled.
Her beer bottle was empty, and Henry's was too. The Secretary is a lightweight, I suddenly realized. The thought came to my mind before I could stop it, and I almost grinned.
He went first this time, and she followed, and it was his turn again—he sunk three solids in against her two striped she'd made before, and he already had one in from the first turn. "It's all about the angle," I watched his lips say, and I swallowed hard, feeling a bead of sweat start to pool at the top of my neck collar.
"Are you talking pool," the Secretary murmured back to him, her eyes batting dramatically, "Or trying to just throw me off my game?"
He smirked at her, and I turned my eyes away to see Branson walking over to me, Hudson standing still in the corner and watching Henry from behind. I overheard her voice again after the Secretary sunk two stripes, "Diplomacy 101," she said to him, a little louder and looser, "Always keep your opponent on edge."
"I'm on edge alright," Dr. McCord said as Branson cleared his throat.
"Is this, like…" the young man shifted in front of me uncomfortably, "Their version of foreplay or something?"
"Keep it professional, Branson," I warned, but I couldn't help but think he was right.
Branson walked away from me again, returning to his original post, and I glanced at Matt who I could feel looking at me. He smirked, and I furrowed my brow. "What?" I asked.
He shook his head, "I can tell this is new for you," he said, not able to hide his amusement, "I was previously the senator's wife's guard, and they had six kids together."
I didn't have to ask to realize what he was inferring, and I simply shifted my feet in a wider stance and watched the Secretary and her husband. She'd sunk all but one stripe in and he'd sunk everything but the 8-ball. "If I sink this," I heard Dr. McCord saying, bending over on the table, "You owe me a backrub."
My eyes couldn't help but dart to the Secretary, awaiting her answer, "And if I sink mine instead, you owe me—"
I blocked the next part out, turning away and swallowing hard and trying my best to pretend I didn't just hear what she'd requested of him.
When I looked back, I watched the 8-ball hit the side of the pool table, and then saw Dr. McCord toss his head back in almost-defeat. The Secretary was smirking at him, running her hand along his shoulder, "Tough luck," she said, bending over the table, and what looked to be purposely, she backed up against his hips before moving to a slightly different spot and shooting her stripes in perfect, and then the 8-ball to clean it all up.
I guess she's getting what she asked for, I panicked, and I watched them walking toward us and announcing they were ready to go back home.
Elizabeth
"You only won because I let you," Henry says to me as we walk out of the bar, Agent Cooper leading the way to our motorcade out front.
I smack him on the chest with the back of my hand, never missing a step as Cooper opens the door for me, "Keep telling yourself that, hun." I say before climbing into the vehicle, sliding across the seat and immediately pushing the button to slide the divider up, separating the back and front seats.
When the door closes and Henry buckles his seatbelt, I smirk at him, the motorcade beginning to move while I tuck the hat in the seat pocket in front of me. "That was fun," I coo, moving my seatbelt and laying my head down on his lap across the seat. His hand comes up and plays in my hair, and I turn so that I can see his face. "I am not letting you forget what I have coming to me at home."
"I wouldn't dream of missing it," he answers, and I squeeze my legs together when I feel the sudden rush of excitement coursing through my body.
Biting down on my lip, I glance out the window and think back to when the last time we got to do this was, and I couldn't remember for sure, but I thought back to when he and I were on a conference trip together and we'd played pool in some little dive bar in Athens, Georgia. That night, he'd won. To honor his winning request, I'd given him a blowjob in the parking lot, the thrill of getting caught sinking into our bodies. We drove out a way from the city afterward, finding a dark, quiet dirt road to spend the next hour in the backseat together, doing things we'd not done since we were in college.
The anticipation didn't need to build any further in the backseat of this Tahoe, but it managed to as I thought of the ways we'd broken in the back of that SUV on that Athens dirt road.
I sit up and look out the window again briefly, realizing there's still a few minutes until we're back to the house. My fingers reach out boldly for Henry's belt buckle, and he lays his hand on top of mine with wide eyes. I snicker when his mouth falls open, "What are you doing?" He asks me.
"What's it look like I'm doing?" I ask, moving my fingers again even though his are on top of mine, unlatching his buckle.
He closes his mouth and looks down, and I work on the button with two fingers and then the zipper. I lean my left side into his body, my right leg wrapping over my own body and draping over his knees. I take my right hand and slide it down the front of his shirt, pushing down until I get to the waistband of his boxers.
I pause, giving him a moment to stop me, but when he doesn't, I continue pushing my fingers down into his boxers and wrap them around his already half-hard cock. I bite my lip and do a quick assessment of my own body, noting that I've been ready for him, made clearer by the moist feeling between my legs. Quickly, I pull my hand out and drop some spit into my palm, very ladylike of course, and slide it back down to where it was.
My hand slides up to the tip and then back down, opening and spreading out across his skin. My fingers graze his balls and his head falls back against the seat, and I smile, "What is it, Dr. McCord?" I whisper.
He peeks one eye open at me, and it makes my heart start pounding even harder, vibrating my chest from the inside, "I'm going to pound you when we get home," he whispers, and I wrap my hand back around his cock, my thumb grazing the tip as I slide up and down in slow, methodical movements.
My mouth is completely dry now, and I feel my toes curling in my boots, "Ah ah," I manage to chide, the beer talking still—otherwise I would've given into him immediately, "You owe me when we get home."
"And you think I'm not going to pound you after that?" He whispers.
I bite down on my lip and give a little squeeze of my hand before angling my face up toward him, "I am counting on that," I whisper, pushing my lips up into his and immediately sliding my tongue in his mouth.
When I feel the vehicle come to a stop, I quickly pull my hand from his pants and he works to zip and re-buckle, and I straighten my coat and put the ball cap back on. The door opens, and I first see Agent Cooper peeking carefully around the door, then he stands and stares straight ahead. I bite my lip, the realization hitting me that he's witnessed everything tonight.
I get out of the car after Henry, my legs wobbly enough that I need to hold onto the door, and I look at Agent Cooper, "Thank you," I say, staring into his eyes and hoping he realizes I'm thanking him for more than I normally would tonight.
He nods, "Of course, ma'am."
And with that, Henry and I are off to the front door where our DS Agent Williams resides outside it, and he lets us in. We wait until the door latches, Henry turning the deadbolt, and he throws his arms around my waist and hoists me up on his hips. "I've been waiting too long to get you home," he whispers.
I bite my lip, my hands dangling behind his neck as I hold on with my arms, "What are you going to do about it?" I whisper.
"I'm going to make your body beg for me to stop," he whispers, moving toward the stairs and walking up them with me attached to him. I roll my hips a little when I think about those words, about the way my body is begging for him to start, and I nod. "And I'm going to fuck you so hard that you'll remember the way tonight felt for days—for weeks, even."
I bite my lip harder after gasping, my breaths becoming shorter and more spontaneous as he makes his way through our doorway. Thank God the kids are all gone for the weekend, I thought, a rarity that I don't always feel thankful for. But on nights like tonight as he's walking me to the bed, I am so glad to know I don't have to be quiet.
He's not going to let me be quiet, I can see it in the way he's tossing me on the bed.
He quickly turns the lamp on before returning to me, yanking my pants down over my legs and allowing me to spread them, planting my feet firmly on the bed. "Like what you see?" I tease, though he doesn't need any more teasing from me.
Between pool games, after beating those guys, I went to the bathroom and tucked my underwear in the inside pocket of my coat, knowing the bet I was going to make with Henry when I walked back outside into the pool area.
"You're so wet," he breathes, dropping down to his knees one by one and scooping my thighs into his arms, dragging me to the edge of the bed and forcing me to lay my knees on his shoulders.
I grab the comforter underneath me when I feel his breath, my mouth falling open when he presses a kiss on the inside of my thigh just above where I ached for him to touch. When I tense, I feel a drip run down me, and then his tongue is right there to scoop it up. "God, Henry," I moan, balling the comforter up in my fists as he slides his tongue further up, dipping it inside me before continuing his upward journey.
He's quiet now, working on his craft so skillfully and making my toes curl behind his head, wrapping my legs around his neck as he sucks in. My hands fly up to reach for his head, my fingers threading harshly through his hair as he sucks in again, his tongue rolling against me as he does so. "I'm going to come," I murmur already, my eyes wide and desperate as I stare at the ceiling, "God, Henry…I'm going to come." I say more clearly, gasping again when he nibbles just slightly before continuing his rolling and sucking.
My body tenses up and my legs start to shake, and I hold out, waiting as long as I can until it overtakes me completely. My legs squeeze his head and I feel a sudden burst of liquid release, and I literally scream as my head digs backward into the mattress. "Fuck, Henry," I moan, realizing now the intensity of the orgasm and the way I was dripping all over our carpet.
He doesn't seem to care, though, as he stands up and fumbles with his pants before pushing them down swiftly. I look up just in time to see him taking off his shirt, standing bare in front of me. "I love when you moan my name," he whispers animalistically, reaching down and ripping my shirt over my head, forgetting the buttons on it.
He tosses it somewhere to the side, and he pushes his hands underneath my bra and slides the wire up over my breasts, and I let out a whine from the way his touch feels like electric shocking my already heightened body. "You knew what you were doing tonight playing pool," he whispers, his hands still under my bra.
I look down and make eye contact with him, unable to hold back my devious grin before I dig my head backward again, "What?" I ask innocently, "I was just playing…"
"You were hustling," he breathes, leaning down and sucking below my collarbone—the place we'd told each other was okay since I could cover that up easily. My head moves to the side, giving him better access as I feel his hard cock resting on my stomach, his body almost entirely laying on top of mine, "And I fell right into it. And now," he whispers just below my ear as I attempt to catch my breath, still panting from the arrest my body had gone through seconds ago, "We're going to finish what you started."
I smile and bite my lip, opening my eyes and looking up at the ceiling before looking down at him, his hands pushing my bra off over my head and flinging it across the room. "Now touch yourself," he whispers, standing up tall as my legs dangle over the edge of the bed. "I want to watch."
I smirk at him and pull my feet up on the bed, watching him stand between my legs and grab onto his cock. I slide my hand down my stomach, down the front of my hips and between my legs, my fingers sloshing in the wetness that he'd caused as I slide two fingers inside myself. I whimper a little at the way my body jolts, still on edge, and he rubs his cock a little and steps forward.
"How's this?" I ask, raising my brow and getting my nerve back after he'd tongue-fucked it out of me, sliding my fingers out and then in and listening to the wet, sloshy sounds that I know drive him crazy.
He steps forward again and his cock rests on my fingers, the ones now in the way, and he looks at me with a smirk. "Open wider," he instructs, and I do as he requests, smirking the entire time. He slides my back by picking me up underneath my ass, and then he lifts my hips up in a sudden motion.
"Oh!" I squeak, grabbing onto his wrist with my hand that was previously occupied, and he takes the opportunity to shove in quickly, and my little squeaking noise quickly turns into a guttural moan, my eyes shutting before they were about to roll back in my head.
"Tell me what you want me to do," I hear him say, his hands digging into the back of my thighs.
I move my hips in protest of him staying so still, whimpering and looking at him before taking a sharp breath, "You know what I want," I mumble, the words dripping like molasses off my tongue.
"I want to hear you say it," he says, and I squeeze around his cock and he groans, giving me a look.
Victoriously, I give him a little grin, "Make me."
He leans down and drags his tongue across my nipple, then suddenly bites down on it so hard that white flashes in front of my eyes before I screech, "Okay, okay," I manage, and he releases, though my body is now burning across every inch. "I want you to fuck me," I whisper, "I want you to fuck me until I forget my name."
And his hips start moving hard and fast, and I couldn't even find my voice to be able to say anything at all. My eyes shut as I reach for his hands below my legs, holding onto them as his hips pound into mine and making loud thunderous noises. "Fuck," I mumble, spitting it off my lips like it was burning them to say it.
I squeeze his hands again and wrap my ankles tightly together behind his back, and then he stops suddenly and pulls out, and I look at him in dismay. "What the hell are you—"
"This is for beating me in pool," he says, rubbing his cock with his hand smugly.
I groan and sit up on my elbows, eyeing him a little, "I thought you let me win," I say, flicking my eyebrow up.
He smirks before I sit all the way up and smash my lips into his, tasting myself on his skin as my tongue desperately runs along his mouth and sloppily against his lips.
I pull away a little and rest my forehead on his, catching my breath again, "Fuck me, Henry. I need you."
He pushes into me again, and sometime between my screaming his name, I feel him fill me before falling limply onto my body, and I grab at his back as he twitches inside me.
"When's the rematch?" He whispers into my ear after a few moments of just heavy breathing, and I laugh and reach for his hair.
"Do we have to have a rematch to have another round of this?" I ask.