﹙ ¹⁸⁺ ﹚ ₊ ❜୧ YOUR HUSBAND COMES HOME EXHAUSTED.
the house is quiet. it's a strange, almost unsettling feeling after seven years and three kids. you’re standing at the stove, stirring a pot that’s starting to smell like dinner, but your ears are tuned to the silence. the kids are at the neighbor's house, a last-minute playdate that you were ridiculously grateful for, giving you a rare hour of peace before the evening chaos begins.
the front door clicks open, and the sound is loud in the stillness. you peek your head out just as simon steps inside, his huge frame seeming to fill the entire doorway. he drops his keys in the bowl, the clatter echoing his exhaustion. he doesn't say a word, just toes off his boots and sinks onto the living room sofa with a deep, weary sigh that seems to come from the bottom of his soul. you can see it in the way he scrubs a hand over his tired face.
he’d called you during lunch to let you know it was trainee day today.
you turn the heat down on the stove, your heart aching a little for him. he looks up then, and his eyes, heavy with exhaustion, find yours across the room. for a second, he just looks at you, and you see the weight of his day in his gaze. but then, something else shifts. the exhaustion is obviously still there, but a familiar hunger flickers to life, a low-burning fire that’s just for you.
he doesn't have to say a word. he just pats the space on his lap, a silent command.
a slow smile spreads across your face. you abandon the spoon on the counter and walk into the living room, the quiet of the house suddenly charged with a different kind of energy. you go straight to him, straddling his lap as you settle onto his thighs, your arms looping around his neck. he feels solid and warm beneath you.
"long day, lieutenant?" you murmur, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw, feeling the rough scruff of his growing stubble against your lips.
"the longest," he groans, his hands immediately finding your hips, his grip firm and tight. he pulls you tighter against him, letting you feel exactly how much he wants you, even after a day that’s clearly wrung him out. “been thinkin’ about this since i left this mornin’.”
"oh yeah?" you breathe, your hips already starting a slow, instinctive roll against his. "about what?"
“about gettin’ you just like this,” he growls, his hands sliding up your back before tangling in your hair, tilting your head back. “quiet house. no kids. just you.”
the filthy words, his rough voice, and the ticking clock of your kids’ imminent return is a potent combination. his mouth crashes down on yours, a kiss that’s all pent-up frustration and raw need. Never a hint of gentleness when it comes to his need for you.
he breaks the kiss, his breathing already ragged. “kids’ll be back for dinner soon,” he says, his voice a low warning. “better be quick about it, luv.”
you don’t need to be told twice. you’re already working at the button and zip of his jeans, your fingers fumbling in your haste. he helps you, pushing his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his cock, already hard and heavy for you. he groans as your hand wraps around him.
“get on, swee’eart,” he rasps, his eyes dark with impatience.
you lift yourself up, your hands braced on his broad shoulders for balance, and then slowly sink down onto him. a matched set of hisses and groans fill the silent room as you take all of him inside you. for a moment, you both just stay still, breathing each other in, your body adjusting to the thick, perfect fullness of him.
then you start to buck your hips.
you set the pace, a slow, deliberate rocking that has his head falling back against the sofa cushions, his eyes fluttering shut. his hands grip your hips, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh, guiding your rhythm. he’s too tired to do the work, but he’s more than capable of taking it, of letting you ride him until you’re both breathless.
“fuck, yes,” he pants, his eyes opening again to watch you. “just like that. ride me, mrs. riley.”
the use of your married name, the sight of his face below you, twisted in a mask of pure pleasure. you pick up the pace, your body moving faster, harder, chasing the feeling that’s already building low in your belly. the only sounds are your wet gasps, the slick slide of your bodies, and his low, guttural groans of encouragement.
“c’mon, luv,” he urges, his voice tight. “almost there.”
he’s right. you can feel your orgasm cresting, a frantic, desperate wave. you lean down, bracing your hands on the sofa on either side of his head as you ride him into a frenzy. your climax hits you hard, a muffled cry escaping your lips as your inner walls clench around him, milking him greedily. it’s all it takes to send him over the edge. he shouts your name, a raw, unguarded sound, as he spills himself deep inside you, his whole body going rigid beneath you.
you collapse against his chest, your body trembling and feeling boneless, his ragged breaths ghosting against your neck. you stay like that for a few seconds, tangled together in the aftermath, before the reality of your life comes rushing back.
“dinner,” you breathe against his sweaty skin.
“fuckin’ hell,” he pants, but his hands are already helping you up, his movements quick and efficient.
you slide off his lap, your legs shaky as you quickly fix your clothes. he sorts himself out, his face flushed. you can feel his cum starting to leak down your inner thigh, again, a warm, secret reminder of what you just did.
steadying yourself, you stumble back into the kitchen, catching the sound of your neighbor at the front door with your noisy kids trailing behind them.
