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Leon’s objectives once he got home were something along the lines of first seeing if that half-drunk wine bottle in the fridge was still available. Then chug that and let the last few days drain away. After that, take a long hot shower to sober up and crawl into bed next to you—hopefully all before the sun came up.
It was with some surprise then that he when entered through the garage entrance, he could faintly hear music. As expected, the house was dark as far as he could tell and his watch confirmed it was definitely half past two in the morning. But sure enough, the bass of the music was carrying through the walls.
Well, he could change his plans. Instead of the kitchen, his first stop was likely going to be your office, which doubled as a personal library.
Sure enough, when he climbed to the second floor, he could see down the hall that your office door was partially open, the light from inside pouring out into the unlit hall.
He stopped in the doorway, drinking in the vignette within.
The room was your favorite and it showed in the room’s arrangements. Walls covered in bookshelves. A reading nook by the bay window with the comfiest chair you both owned nestled in the corner and just big enough for two people to snuggle in. The lighting at this time of night was subdued and atmospheric, warm and inviting.
In another life where you had different vices, the scene would probably have been coated in a thin veneer of cigarette smoke, an overflowing ash tray at your elbow and a lit cigarette hanging from your lip.
In reality, you were sitting half curled before your desktop with one leg bent between you and the desk. Your hair was a subtle mess, stray hairs no longer complying with the hairstyle you had originally put it in. You were dressed with comfort in mind, a pair of sweats and sweatshirt completing an overall image of the epitome of coziness.
Evidently you were in one of your self-described “manic writer” moods. Ever since you had left the corporate life behind to be a writer full-time, you occasionally went through spells with late nights writing, particularly when Leon wasn’t home to drag you off to bed. It was reportedly one of the few silver linings of Leon being gone for extended periods of time. Less distractions and all that.
The alternative rock you had playing was, as hinted earlier, loud. You moved to the beat of it in your seat, bobbing your head and rolling your shoulders. You were blissfully unaware of him watching you, wrapped up in your creative bubble.
It all went straight to his chest, injecting an immediate dose of calm into his system.
A dose of home.
He gave himself a few moments to just stand there, absorbing the moment and letting the pleasant domestic scene in front of him wrap around his weary heart. He breathed deeply, feeling as though his being was being recentered around the domesticity of home.
Then he knocked loudly on the doorjamb.
“Holy shit!” You lurched in your seat, whirling around with eyes wide. Your body relaxed immediately upon seeing him. “Leon! I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Not surprised with that music,” he remarked loudly, raising a brow.
You turned back to the computer and the music dropped to a mere suggestion of noise.
Leon came up behind your chair, leaning down to wrap his arms around your shoulders.
“Up late writing?” he asked, only letting his eyes pass briefly over the word processor window on the screen.
“Apparently,” you said mildly. Your voice climbed as you realized the time, “Oh shit, it’s that late?”
On your breath he could faintly smell the tang of wine. His eyes caught the glass and bottle on the table in front of you. The bottle, looking basically empty, was the exact one he was thinking would be waiting for him in the fridge.
Luckily for him, he had another intoxicating option in his arms.
“Wait, I thought you were coming home tomorrow?”
Leon rested his chin on your shoulder. “I got in a little earlier than planned.”
It had been one of those times he could have spent the night elsewhere, then came home sometime in the morning. However, sometimes (most of the time, really) the pull of getting home was greater than he was willing to deal with. And so he had opted instead for a late night return and the wife he knew would be waiting for him in bed.
Well, minus the part that evidently said wife wasn’t in bed. That could be remediated, he realized.
To that end, he turned his face into your neck, grazing the exposed skin with his lips. His grip on you tightened when you sighed and rolled your head to the side to give him free rein to work his way up.
“No complaints on my end about that,” you breathed, letting out another faint groan as he reached that sensitive spot behind your ear. “No complaints at all.”
Your hands found his arms, grabbing tightly onto his triceps as he nibbled on your jaw and dusted your cheek with kisses.
“You okay? Everything go alright?” you asked him.
“Everything’s fantastic,” he murmured into your ear, nearly surprising himself with how much he meant it.
You turned the chair and he let his arms fall away, instead grabbing your face with a hand on either cheek. You gazed up at him with bare want burning in your eyes, lips faintly parted and waiting.
His body tensed.
“Fuck, I missed you, though,” he rasped, reaching with a thumb to rub your lower lip.
“I missed you too,” you whispered.
Then, of all things, you turned your head slightly and gave his thumb a languid lick.
He felt himself go hard instantly.
“Ready for your night to be a little longer?” he asked, leaning in closer until your noses were nearly touching. Whether you realized it or not, you were trying to close the distance already, cheeks pressing into the resistance of his hands.
“Oh, yes.”
“It’s going to be a rough morning,” he warned you. “We might not get to bed for a while.”
You barked a laugh, threading your fingers through his hair. “Don’t care. Already accepted that. Don’t you have the day off?”
“I do.”
“Then kiss me, Leon.”
He brought his lips to yours, kissing you like a man starved for affection. You immediately opened for him, giving him a faint taste of wine on his tongue as he explored your mouth. The fingers you had woven into his hair tightened, pulling him in as though he couldn’t get close enough.
Leon wanted to devour you. To leave you breathless and moaning his name. In you, he could both lose and find himself again. Lose the melancholy that his work often inspired in him and replace it with vivacity, comfort, and love.
Releasing your face, he shoved his hands into the seat of your chair, grabbing you by your ass and hefting you out of the chair. You got the memo and grabbed onto his shoulders, wrapping your legs around his waist. With one last jolting adjustment that had you laughing into his mouth, he had you securely pressed against his front. He groaned at the feeling of your clothed breasts pressing into his chest and the fact that you were situated perfectly over his erection, rubbing against him.
He could feel the smile forming on your lips. “Mm, someone’s happy to see me,” you mumbled against his lips, humming with delight.
“Damn right,” he replied.
As he strode from the room, you migrated from his mouth to his jaw and then his neck, alternating between kisses and lightly grazing his skin with your teeth. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your rear as you found that spot where neck meets shoulder that sent pleasant shivers down his spine. Not only that, but you seemed rather intent on using whatever mobility you had to grind yourself against his arousal.
“Fuck,” he growled, struggling between the sensations and trying to get you down the hall and onto a proper bed. Maybe he should’ve just gotten you into that reading chair in the corner. Wouldn’t have been the first time.
“That’s the idea,” you breathed against his skin.
He grunted in response.
Somehow he got the two of you to the bedroom, the space illuminated by a sole bedside lamp casting an amber glow. And once he had you where he wanted you, he laid you down on the bed, took up your lips again in a blazing kissm and rocked his hips into yours.
You arched into him, hands back in his hair. “Fuck,” you groaned right into his mouth.
“Mhmm. Fun, isn’t it, teasing your spouse like that?” he muttered in reply before grinding his hips against you once again. “Feel how hard you’ve got me?”
You hummed in agreement. “I’ve got an idea.”
He pulled back from your lips, pressing his forehead against yours. “Do you want me to show you?”
“I think that would be an excellent idea,” you replied, smiling mischievously up at him.
With a push on his shoulders, he leaned back until he was kneeling upright on the bed. You also came up on your knees, hands roving over his body to first remove his jacket and then slip your hands under the hem of the shirt he wore beneath. He let out a shaky breath at the first graze of your fingers over his abdomen. At the same time, he held his hands at his sides despite the itching desire to grab you anywhere and everywhere.
Instead, he watched as you stared intently at his chest, your eyes following your hands as you brought his shirt up his body. He took the last step to pull it off and tossed it somewhere across the room. Torso now bare, your fingers traced their way up, lightly grazing your fingernails against his skin such that it was left pebbling in your wake.
Then you leaned in and laid a long, lingering kiss over his heart.
“I’m so glad you’re home,” you said into his chest, as though you were speaking the words into his heart. The hands lightly resting on his ribs turned into clenching hands. “So, so glad.”
Although it was already drumming a fine beat, his heart thudded a little harder at those words.
“Me too,” he agreed, voice gravelly.
You kissed your way up his chest until you were at his lips again. As you rejoined at the mouth, he couldn’t help but seize you again, hands grabbing fistfuls of hair. He wasn’t sure when your hairdo had fallen apart but the loose tresses were prime candidates for grasping fingers.
And your hands…
Well, your hands went for his belt. As you kissed this time at a more leisurely pace, your hands worked fervently at first removing his belt and then at the fastening of his pants. He shuddered when he felt the waist loosen, fully anticipating and yet still pleasantly surprised when a hand reached in and grabbed him through his boxer briefs.
Instead of shuddering then, his body full on spasmed. The groan that left him was raw. Surely you could feel him throbbing with need for you.
You pulled back from his mouth, licking your lips. “Going to need to get a visual on this, Mr. Kennedy.”
He stared at your glistening lips, swallowing thickly. “Please do.”
You grinned, pushing your fingers beneath the waistband. With a few carefully placed tugs you had his pants and underwear pushed down to his knees. He followed your hungry eyes downward, seeing the evidence of his desire standing tall and eager between the two of you.
Then you wrapped your hand around his length and he was throwing his head back, eyes squeezed shut as pleasure rippled through him.
Giving him a few unhurried strokes, you leaned up to whisper into his ear, “Ah, yes. Quite hard, I think.”
“You got me bad,” he groaned at the ceiling.
You made a pleased noise in your throat, biting lightly at his ear. “Good.”
Leaving one hand still wound in your hair, he reached for your breasts.
As his hand cupped one, he realized a few things. One, you weren’t wearing a bra under that sweatshirt. Two, you were wearing far too much clothing for his liking. Three, the sound you made then was music to his ears.
He was momentarily distracted by both your moan and the desire to start thrusting into your hand.
Then he regained himself and gave you a strong push that sent you falling back with a laugh on the bed. He shucked off the clothing around his legs and crawled up your body. As he did so, he pulled the sweatshirt and underlying tank top with him, tossing both somewhere off the side of the bed.
Your breasts now bare before him, perky nipples and all, he grinned. “Much better,” he said quietly before leaning down on one arm so he could take one into his mouth and the other in his free hand.
You moaned and grabbed his head again. “Leon…”
He swirled his tongue around your nipple and then sucked. With his other hand, he lightly pinched the opposite nipple between two fingers.
Now you were saying his name louder, lifting your chest ever closer.
He released your nipple with a soft, wet sound. Gazing up, he found your face turned to one side, cheeks flushing and your eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. He felt a pulsing between his legs, a growing need to burry himself between your thighs.
All in good time.
As much as he wanted to skip right to that, he had something else in mind first.
Moving down your body, he made quick work of removing your sweatpants and panties. Now just as naked as him, he spread your legs with a hand on either knee to get a good look at you fully bared before him.
He could both smell and see for himself just how wet you were for him.
He groaned in satisfaction. Keeping your legs open wide, his gaze flitted briefly up to yours. You stared down at him with smoldering eyes, anticipation written all over your face and your lips parted, chest heaving.
With a few quick adjustments, he had you on the edge of the bed, legs wrapped around his shoulders and your glistening core on display before him. He split your folds with his fingers and without further warning gave your clit a slow, long lick. The taste of your arousal flooded his tongue, a familiar and delectable flavor.
Your body spasmed on the bed, the sweetest of moans leaving you and making his hardened cock throb.
He set himself to work on your clit, alternating between flicking his tongue across it and giving the sensitive nub gentle sucks. You writhed beneath his ministrations, legs tensing and pushing into his shoulders. When he freed a hand to slip a finger into you, it was to find that you were more than ready for him.
So fucking wet.
His cock twitched. He could already envision feeling all the slickness currently around his finger around his erection. Of feeling your walls contract and grip him so nicely like as if you were made for him.
He was left groaning against your clit as he refocused his attention on the rhythm between his tongue and his finger. He could soon tell you were close to losing it, your body growing extremely tense and your moans growing sharp and shallow in anticipation for the final crescendo.
Come for me, he thought, relishing every spasm and gasp.
With a few more pumps and licks, you were almost bucking beneath him, a mix of a scream and a moan ripping from you.
“Oh, fuck, Leon!”
He continued until your cries subsided, a smirk plastered across his lips as he drank in the sounds. There was always a rush of accomplishment that filled him when you screamed like that, when he knew he had gotten you so good that when the waves of ecstasy finally receded, you laughed in delight.
“Oh God, that was so fucking good,” you breathed, coming up onto your elbows to beam down at him as he drew back. “So fucking good.”
“Good. There’s more where that came from.”
Leon urged you back further onto the bed again, coming up between your legs. He kissed you softly, drinking in the pleased sound that reverberated in your throat as he gave one of your breasts a gentle fondle.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Oh, yes.”
Leaning back, he took your legs and folded them upwards, hands holding your thighs spread. Releasing one leg, he positioned himself at your soaking entrance. Looking up, he found your head titled back, eyes shut and bitting your lip in anticipation.
“Look at me when I enter you,” he ordered.
Your attention snapped to him, eyes heavy-lidded but complying. He inserted himself slowly, holding your gaze as he slid into your moist depths. You promptly bit your lip again, groaning. For his part, he couldn’t have stopped himself from moaning if he tried.
“Fuck, you feel good,” he growled through clenched teeth.
“Uh-huh,” you said, nodding.
Once he had himself fully inside, he lowered himself until he could give you a long kiss. Then he pulled back and, gripping both your legs, started a deep and slow rhythm. He wanted to enjoy the feel of you around him and watch your face contort with pleasure as he filled you again and again. Your hands gripped at your hair and the bedsheets by your head, your chest jiggling with each languid thrust.
In that fashion, he made love to you for as long as he could. He hoped you could see the same love in his eyes that was burning his chest.
And even if you couldn’t…
He released your legs and leaned down with his elbows planted on either side of your head.
“I love you,” he said over your lips, feeling the soft puffs of your breath across his face.
Your eyes fluttered open. “I love you too, Leon.” You wriggled your hips. “Now fuck me.”
He grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”
Lifting back up onto his hands, he intensified his thrusts gradually until he was pounding into you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, shifting and lift your hips so that each stroke went as deep as possible.
He slammed his hips against yours again and again, filling the room with a wet slapping noise that egged him on. He knew when he had found a good angle when your breath caught and the pitch of your moans changed violently. Balancing on one hand that gripped your shoulder fiercely, he reached between the two of you in search of your swollen clit.
Between the angle and several sloppy but remarkably effective strokes at your clit, you clenched around him and writhed with renewed fervor.
He was already getting close, but between your tightening walls and the sounds you were making, he wasn’t going to last much longer.
“Leon, I…I’m gunna…”
Through gritted teeth, he groaned, “Come for me. Come all over me.”
You complied with a cry, moaning his name as you climaxed.
The wave of satisfaction that flooded through him was the last bit he needed. He closed his eyes as his own pleasure crested, reaching a fierce peak before tumbling down in waves of bliss that shook his entire body. He couldn’t pump well anymore, getting in just a few more staggering thrusts before he was spent and merely riding out the tingling tail end of his release.
With a long sigh, he leaned forward once again. You lifted up to meet him, grabbing his face with a hand on either cheek and bringing your lips together.
“Good?” you asked as you leaned back.
“So fucking good,” he replied, swooping in for another kiss.
When he pulled back, you were grinning, something suggestive lurking in your eyes.
“What?” he asked, cradling your jaw in one hand and brushing his thumb across your cheek.
“I suppose we should go take a shower,” you said mildly. “Clean up for bed.”
He glanced at the alarm clock on the nearby nightstand, the red numbers telling him it was almost half past three.
“Tired, Mrs. Kennedy?” he asked.
“I wouldn’t say that, exactly,” you said, propping yourself on your elbows. You reached up a hand and tapped his nose. “Who said the only thing we’d be doing in the shower is getting clean?”
He grinned in return. “You may have to show me what you mean.”
“I think I can do that,” you replied with a wink.
When you slid out from under him, he watched from the bed as your swaying hips moved towards the bathroom.
As he followed that sweet ass out of the bedroom, he concluded that he had most definitely made the right choice in coming home early.