Hello! This is just some ridiculous smut; I hope you like it. It's complete for now but there may be a chapter two at some point because smut lol. Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think! xx


There was no sign of any of the kids when Henry arrived home, but all the evidence suggested that his wife was somewhere in the house. The DS agents and motorcade on the street outside were the dead giveaway, but even without their presence he would have known that Elizabeth was home from her briefcase and coat abandoned just inside the front door, her high heels following a few steps later.

Henry hung up his own coat and then hung up hers too before turning to survey the house to try to locate his wife. "Babe?"

No answer.

He wandered into the office in case she was caught up in work and hadn't heard his call, but found the room empty. He was pretty sure she wasn't elsewhere downstairs – he couldn't hear the TV and he figured if she was in the kitchen he'd be able to smell, see and hear the house burning down – and so he headed for the stairs, shucking off his jacket and tie as he climbed.

Tiredness from a long day slowed his steps and clouded his thoughts and so it was a couple of moments before he properly heard the sound.

Henry paused about two thirds of the way up the stairs, certain he had just heard something that sounded like –

Yes. There it was again. That was definitely a moan.

And it sounded like Elizabeth. Henry's eyes widened. Was she..?

He knew from long experience what his wife sounded like when she was enjoying herself, and that moan sounded like she was definitely enjoying herself. Interest piqued, Henry carried on up the stairs, a smile playing at his lips. He was careful to be quiet so he could still hear Elizabeth above his footsteps, and two stairs from the top he was rewarded with the sound of her gasping in delight.

Images and possibilities filled his head at the thought of what he might find when he reached their bedroom. Maybe she had taken off her clothes and lain down across the bed, or maybe she had been so eager she hadn't even bothered to get undressed…

He wondered if he should be bothered that she hadn't waited for him before deciding to, uh, have some fun, but the truth was he found the thought almost unbearably hot. He felt his pants tightening slightly and hoped that Elizabeth would be up for some more fun with him. The noises he could hear her making were turning him on and helping to drive all thoughts of tiredness from his mind.

Reaching the bedroom, he stood outside the closed door for a moment, not yet quite ready to disturb her. He was rewarded with a loud moan from inside the room and a moment later, Elizabeth said, "Oh God."

He figured that was his cue to go in.

Quietly pushing the door open, Henry stepped inside the room and looked towards the bed, finding it curiously empty. Huh.


The little moan came from over by the window and Henry followed the sound, crossing the room with his heart beating fast in his chest in anticipation, arousal making him flush with warmth, arms already rising to reach for his wife. He rounded the bed, eager to see her…

… and found her sitting on the floor leaning against her side of the bed.

Eating a bowl of pasta.


She looked up as she realised she wasn't alone, her eyes lighting up as she looked up at him, although whether she was pleased by the sight of him or the forkful of pasta she'd just put into her mouth, Henry couldn't quite say.

He stared at her, dumbfounded.

Elizabeth groaned again as she chewed the pasta. "Oh my gosh," she said after she had swallowed the mouthful. "Henry, this is quite literally the best pasta I have ever eaten, I swear."

He opened his mouth to reply but no sound came out. Disappointment crashed through him. He had been so ready, so certain he was going to find his wife in some delightfully sinful position, and she was eating pasta all along?

She was still talking as he processed the disappointment. "The new Italian ambassador brought it with her when she visited today and I think I'm going to marry her, this is so good." She took another mouthful, prompting another pleased moan as flavours exploded on her tongue.

Then her eyes slipped closed like she was savouring the experience and Henry found himself feeling insanely jealous of a bowlful of pappardelle even as arousal surged through him at the noises Elizabeth was making and the blissed-out look on her face. If she kept going much longer he didn't think he could be held responsible for his actions. His voice was gravelly when he spoke. "I could hear you from halfway up the stairs."

"Hmm?" She opened her eyes and craned her neck to look up at him, hands cradling her bowl like it held the meaning of life.

Elizabeth McCord holding a bowl of pasta – Henry knew that as far as she was concerned, she practically was holding the meaning of life. "I could hear you," he said, taking a step towards her and then crouching down in front of her, aware that she'd be able to easily read the lust on his face. "I could hear you moaning and gasping like you do when I have my fingers inside you, and I thought that maybe you'd been so eager for some action you'd taken matters into your own hands." He looked down at the pasta. "And you have, although obviously not in the way that I thought."

Elizabeth's lips twitched upwards at his words. "I'm not ashamed to say that this pasta is orgasmic." A spark of sin entered her eyes as she glanced down and noted Henry's tight trousers. "Did that turn you on?" she asked. "The thought of me in here… too desperate to wait for you?"

He didn't hesitate in his reply. "Yes." Then he reached out and took the bowl from her, abandoning it on the night stand and ignoring her cry of protest at the stealing of her food. He distracted her with a searing kiss, kneeling over her where she sat on the floor, his knees straddling her thighs and his hands grazing the sides of her breasts through her black silk camisole. She tasted of pasta and olive oil and the moan that left her throat at his touch was almost comparable with the one inspired by the gift from the new Italian ambassador.

Pulling back from the kiss, Elizabeth sucked in a breath. "Thief," she gasped out, casting a longing glance at the remaining pappardelle.

"Tease," he retorted, kissing her again and bringing his hands up to cup her face, the better to keep her eyes on him. "I was hoping to come in here to find you naked and ready for me and instead it seems you've taken a new Italian lover."

She chuckled, leaning her head back against the bed. "Well, that sounds like a disappointment."

"It is." He pressed in as close as he could, crowding her against the bed, leaning in so he could whisper in her ear. "You can't make those noises and expect me not to want you. You can't moan like you're about to come at any moment and expect me not to do anything about it. You got my hopes up."

Elizabeth swallowed heavily, her eyes darkening and her breath catching in her chest. "So what are you gonna do about it?"

In reply, Henry wrapped his arms tight around her and hauled her up off the floor and onto the bed, pushing her back against the pillows and then climbing up himself before lowering himself down on top of her. He kissed her briefly, his tongue teasing her lips. Then he reached down to gather the fabric of her camisole, drawing it up her body and then off over her head. Her bra followed a moment later and then he moved down to remove her skirt, his heart hammering hard in his chest as need surged within him. He could feel Elizabeth watching him, could hear her increasingly rapid breathing as he took off her clothes and felt the way she tensed with anticipation as he slid her underwear down her legs, his fingers deliberately grazing her inner thighs as he went.

"Henry?" she said.

He crawled back over her, pressing his clothed body to her bare skin. He kissed her cheek and moved his hands to grasp her wrists, bringing her hands up to her chest. "Touch yourself," he said.

She paused, eyes seeking out his face for a moment before she complied, hands cupping her breasts and stroking her thumbs over her nipples. Her breath hitched but she held his gaze, a challenge on her face. "Is this what you imagined?" she asked, her head sliding back against the pillows and her hips undulating deliberately against his as she touched herself. "When you were walking up the stairs and heard me moaning, is this what you imagined I was doing?"

Henry had to muster all of his control to hold himself still, to stop himself from unzipping his trousers and fucking her into the mattress right then; if he did that then it would all be over far too fast. His hands twitched as they rested either side of Elizabeth's shoulders. "Yes," he said.

She smiled – or was it more of a smirk? – and slid one hand down over her abdomen, fingers trailing over smooth skin, a knowing look on her face as Henry's gaze followed the path of her hand and he shifted his body from hers just enough that he didn't impede her progress. Then she slipped her hand between her legs to touch her folds and Henry thought that he could just about burst. "Or is this what you imagined?" she said, stroking herself gently before one finger dipped inside her entrance. "Did you hope that I was touching myself and imagining you inside me?"

It was impossible to formulate a reply to that because he couldn't kick his brain off the sight of her with her hands on her body, seeking her own pleasure and apparently delighting in her ability to dumbfound him even as he'd been intending to hold the upper hand. Henry's fingers clenched in the bed sheets and he lowered his hips so he could thrust lightly against her thigh.

Elizabeth turned her head so she could speak against his ear in the way that always made him shiver. "Because I do, you know," she said quietly. "Sometimes. When you're away or I'm away. When I need you but you're not there. I touch myself and think of you."

Henry groaned loudly, both at her words and at the image they conjured up and while he already knew that it was something she did occasionally – and that he did, too, when one of them was away and they had been apart for a while – just the thought of it was enough to have him throbbing. "Babe," he said.

A second finger joined the first as she thrust shallowly against herself. "But today…" she went on, casually, as though she wasn't lying naked below him masturbating at his request. "Today, though, today I was just thinking about that delicious pasta."

A growl rose in his throat and Henry grasped her wrists, pulling her hands from her body so he could pin them up by her head while Elizabeth laughed at his reaction, apparently pleased with herself for getting a rise out of him. She knew how to play him and damn if it wasn't hot as hell. But that didn't mean he would let her off.

Henry kissed her, his tongue plundering her mouth as he let her take some more of his weight, drawing his chest over hers and making her hiss as the fabric of his shirt scratched at her nipples. He pressed her down into the mattress, humming in amused satisfaction as she bucked up against him, clearly wanting to touch him but trapped by his body surrounding her and his hands holding hers captive.

After a minute he gathered her wrists into one hand and held them above her head while with his other hand he reached down to fumble with the fastening of his pants, breaking the kiss so he could focus.

"You know, I could help you with that," Elizabeth said pointedly, a wicked smile flickering at her lips, clearly fully aware of the power she had over him even as he held her still against the mattress.

"You can't be trusted, you're a tease," he replied, fixing her with a look as he finally succeeded in undoing the clasp of his dress pants. He lowered the zip and then reached inside his boxers to free his erection, hot lust burning through him.

Elizabeth blinked at him innocently. "I thought you liked that about me."

"I do."

Then he proved his point by thrusting firmly inside her, burying himself as deep as he could go in one stroke, feeling a little smug as Elizabeth's eyes slammed shut and she gasped at the feel of him pressing inside her, stretching her muscles. Henry watched her face and paid attention to the tell-tale signs of her body, knowing that she was ready for him to move when her expression cleared and her hips relaxed ever so slightly beneath his.

He set a fast pace, not holding back, the want that had been building within him ever since he first heard her moan as he made his way upstairs spilling over into action. Elizabeth writhed beneath him, hips rising to meet his thrusts and her legs spreading wider to accommodate him moving above her.

Feeling the pleasure build within him, Henry let go of her wrists so he could brace his hands either side of her head, giving him more leverage. As soon as she was free, Elizabeth's arms wrapped tight around his back, fingers digging into his shoulder blades as she clung on, swept up with the fast pace and the intensity of Henry's need.

He was close, so close, and it only took a few strokes more until he came, spilling inside her and crying out, his body going rigid for long moments as the pleasure washed over him. "So good, babe," he choked out. "So good."

He slumped over her, his head resting next to hers on the mattress as he caught his breath and came back to himself. When his thoughts were somewhat coherent again, he was aware of Elizabeth shifting beneath him and he realised that she hadn't come. He raised himself up on his elbows to look down at the slightly frustrated expression on her face. "Let me take care of you," he said.

"My pasta would never leave me hanging like this," she replied, craning her neck so she could see the bowl abandoned on the nightstand, looking at it with longing that Henry knew was only partly joking. When she looked back at him, she worked her hand in between their bodies and slid it down to where they were still joined, pressing her fingers against her clit as he started to soften inside her. "And I'd never leave myself hanging like this."

The glint in her eye told Henry that she was only messing with him, but he wasn't about to be upstaged by a bowl of pasta and he wasn't about to come second to her own hand. He eased himself out of her and then knocked her hand away, replacing it with his as he rubbed her clit firmly and lowered his head to take one nipple into his mouth, biting gently before soothing it with his tongue. Elizabeth laughed at his eagerness to prove himself before she gasped at the sensations and then moaned when he pressed two fingers inside her, stroking her clit with his thumb.

Her arms wrapped around his head to hold him to her, barely giving him room to come up for air before he switched to her other breast, doing his best to drive her wild. His fingers thrusting into her, he carefully added a third finger as he slid back inside and she whimpered as her muscles stretched around him.

Henry raised his head to kiss her throat, sucking at the skin over her pulse point and feeling the rapid pace of her heart. He knew that she was close and he kept up his movements and the pressure against her clit for a few seconds more and then she came hard, crying out and digging her fingers hard into his muscles.

Satisfaction flooded through him at the look of bliss on her face and the way she clutched him to her so desperately. He'd be surprised if there were any cogent thoughts in her head at that moment, let alone any thoughts of her beloved pasta.

A few seconds later, Elizabeth relaxed and Henry drew his fingers out of her, sliding his arms beneath her to cradle her against him instead. She opened her eyes and blinked up at him. "Is that what you were hoping would happen?" she asked croakily.

He laughed. "Oh yeah. Reality surpassed expectations." Then he sobered and forced a stern look onto his face. "And I hope you realise I'm far more satisfying than a bowl of pasta." He pressed his hips to hers to prove his point.

Elizabeth gasped at the contact, still sensitive from her orgasm. "I take your point." She smiled up at him. "That was a very impressive performance, Doctor McCord. As good as it can be without you, it's never as good as it is with you." She didn't give him a chance to reply before she turned serious and it was obvious that unlike him she was not just pretending. "But Henry, seriously. You have to try that pasta. I swear, one mouthful and you'll be moaning, too."

"Nothing tastes that good, babe." He leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Except maybe you."

Elizabeth blushed and her pupils dilated at his words but still she was insistent. "Well, thank you for that endorsement. But I'm serious. Try it. You'll see."

Holding her gaze and looking at her sceptically even as he was chuckling to himself at her adamant expression, Henry sat up, straddling her waist as he leaned over to pick up the cooling bowl of pappardelle. He twirled some pasta onto the fork and popped it into his mouth. "I think I'm going to come," he said three seconds later.

Damn that pasta was orgasmic.

Elizabeth shuffled out from under him and sat up against the headboard, reaching out to take the bowl and fork from him and scooping up her own mouthful. Her point proved, she looked to be settling down for the long haul. "Now if you'll excuse me," she said, "I think you'll find you interrupted a hot date." She put the pasta in her mouth and a look of serenity crossed her face as she ate it.

Henry watched her enjoy her food and despite the intensity of his earlier orgasm, felt the flames of lust licking at him once more as Elizabeth slowly drew the fork from her lips.

She looked him in the eye and, seeing the expression on his face, smiled like the cat that got the cream. "I suppose that you could join me if you wanted to," she said, considerately. Her gaze flicked down his body. "Although you're hopelessly overdressed."

Henry's hand plucked at his shirt. "You want this off?"

Elizabeth twirled more pasta onto her fork. Her eyes moved between her food and his body like she couldn't decide which one she liked the look of more. "I want it all off. And then you need to prove to me that you really can make me moan more than this pasta."

Henry knew a challenge when he saw one and he readily accepted.

Even as he knew that there was no way he could ever hope to compete with his wife's one true love of proper Italian pasta.

Didn't mean he wasn't going to try.