Work Text:
How the hell did she expect him to get work done for the rest of the day after that? Thoughts of her had been plaguing him since the latest breach between them of course, but when she started expressing her concern for how tired he looked, and when she went on that righteous tirade about how much better he was than Wilcox…and when she invited him into her bed, boldly in the middle of that corridor, then left him with that damned sashay in that damned dress… Maybe the real question was how the hell had he managed to not kiss her like this right there in Langley.
She gasped his name as he hiked up the hem of her dress with one wandering hand. They were too old to go all the way against the front door of all places, but he’d been thinking of her and longing for her for hours already; once she’d stepped past the threshold, like hell could he wait a second more.
The second he tore his mouth away from hers, she said in that half-chastising, half-argumentative tone of hers, “The idea was that you’d be getting some rest.”
He smiled, even though she wouldn’t be able to see as he ducked his head to kiss down her jaw, neck, collar. “Mhmm, I’ve married a brilliant woman,” he murmured against her skin. “To the bed, then?”
Her chuckle was throaty and breathless and everything promising.
Later—much later—he laid on his side, as still as he could manage so he could let his eyes adjust in the lighting enough to soak in the view of his wife, sweaty and sated and sprawled out beside him. On a sigh, she turned to look at him, and his hands itched to brush her hair aside before it got all tangled under her. But before he could decide whether to indulge the urge, she said, “That was one helluva greeting,” the raspiness of her voice making him smirk into the darkness.
“You give me one helluva rush,” he retorted. She laughed, but he pulled her close to make sure she understood just how serious he was. “Thank you.”
Turning her head, she nuzzled his cheek and whispered, “For what?”
He thought of how firmly against Henry and his incursions into Arthur’s territory she was, of how unhesitatingly she supported him professionally even when she was disappointed in him personally, of how much encouragement and confidence a single look or a few words from her engendered in him…of just how many chances she gave him. And he captured her mouth in a slow, sweet kiss instead of responding. Because how the hell would he put it into words?