You watch him walk in the door, and you know that he can feel your eyes on him, but he doesn’t say anything. He never does. You’re sprawled lazily on the couch; it’s the perfect spot to just look at him. You’re almost always home before he is; he works too hard, too late. His wives never liked that, but you don’t mind. It would be more than a little hypocritical, and insane, if you did mind, as you work with him.
He slips his shoes off and hangs up his coat and only then do you stand up and stroll over to where he is waiting. Lazily, you press him against the door and your mouth finds his. Lips slip against each other; warm, dry, and eager. Tongues duel sleepily for dominance, but it’s an act; he knows that you’re in charge. Teeth click accidently once or twice, but neither of you mind too much. It doesn’t really hurt, and if it does, you both sort of have a thing for a little bit of pain.
“Hey.” You murmur when the two of you finally part. He smiles, a bit dazed from the intensity of your kisses.
“Hey.” He breathes back. You lean in to kiss him again, and this time it isn’t so lazy. This time, there’s a certainty about it.
It’s been a long, hard couple of weeks; a bad case involving a little girl, her father, and a man that no one can put behind bars. These cases drive him crazy, and you know that he needs to be mindless for a while. You can work with that.
The two of you haven’t had much time together lately. You’ve been pulling twenty hour days for about two weeks straight. Most of those days, no one went home. You slept at your desk, showered in the decontamination showers, and lived off of coffee, what you could get out of the vending machine, what you could beg off of Abby, and what can be delivered to the building. When you did make it home, the two of you were too tired to do much but kiss sloppily and fall into bed to sleep for three or four hours before getting up again to start another unproductive day.
You make your way up the stairs slowly, leaving a trail of clothing behind you. Your shirt by the door, his by the couch; your pants didn’t make it to the stairs, his barely made it halfway up. By the time you reach the landing, the only thing the two of you are wearing are your socks, and those are gone before you cross the threshold to the bedroom.
“Need you.” You breathe in his ear as you push him back against the bed. He shivers in response, pulling you against him almost frantically. He reaches for the bedside table. How he manages to open the drawer and find the lube, you don’t know. You’re too busy licking and nibbling down his chest to care, anyway.
“Christ.” He gasps when you gently bite his nipple. You chuckle softly
“Nope,” You say when you pull away to do the same to the other nipple, “just me.”
He pushes the lube into your hand. “Please.” And you can’t tell him no. You never could.
It takes maybe a minute to stretch him. You haven’t done this for two weeks, but he’s begging for this and neither of you have enough patience to take longer to prepare him.
“In me.” He begs. “Now.”
You lay against him eagerly. Your chest against his, your legs against his as you slide into him, your arms pressed where his are and your fingers twined with his. Your face is pressed against his shoulder and you both tremble at the intimacy of it all. For a moment, neither of you move, both too enraptured in the feelings that being inside of him bring. Then, you shudder because you’ve never been patient man, and you’re not about to start now.
“Love you.” You breathe against his neck. “So much.” You both moan as you start to thrust easily into him. Your skin slides against his and it isn’t long before you feel how taut his muscles are, how close he is, and how hard his breathing is.
“Not yet.” You whisper. He moans desperately.
“Please.”
“No.” You breathe. He whines softly and presses back against you in a way that makes your breath hitch.
“Now?”
You begin to shudder as the pressure building at the base of your spine explodes. “Now.” And he’s coming apart and flying into little pieces, too.
“Tony?”
“Yeah, Jeth?” You murmur. You pull out and curl around his back, your arm around his chest, one hand gently stroking his arm.
“I love you, too.” He says sleepily. You smile and kiss the back of his head.
“I know.”
Author's Chapter Notes:
It's been one of those cases involving a little girl, her father, and a man no one can put behind bars. It isn't over, but it never will be, and he needs to be distracted. You can work with that.