Phone smut, for bearnuhhh. It's basically just filth. I hope you like it ;)
The Art of Relaxation
It was just about all she could do to walk from the elevator to her hotel room without the tension she'd been restraining all day simmering over into a burst of rage right there in the middle of the twenty-third floor corridor.
Today had very definitely not been a good day.
Elizabeth bit out a goodnight to the DS agents who had walked her back to her room, and then closed the door behind her a little louder than she had intended. She winced as the sound echoed loudly around the room, but damn it, the frustration was just too much. Her three-day trip to a summit in Geneva was proving far more trying than anticipated, and her late evening meeting with a room full of foreign military hotshots who were more than just a little bit patronising and prone to mansplaining had just about ruined what was left of her patience.
And now it was past midnight and she had maybe five and a half hours if she was lucky before she had to be up so she could prep for a breakfast meeting and a press conference before getting on her plane for the long flight back to DC.
Kicking off her heels and tugging off the fitted jacket she'd worn for her late meetings, Elizabeth thumbed through her phone with her free hand and pressed call as she flopped back onto the bed, all too aware of the feel of blood rushing in her veins and the sound of her heart pounding loudly in her chest. She was pretty sure if a doctor were to take her blood pressure at that moment, she'd be admitted to the hospital as a heart attack risk.
It had been that kind of a day. And now it seemed like the phone was about to ring out and she was just conjuring up some fresh annoyance at that when -
"Hey, babe," Henry answered the call, sounding slightly out of breath.
A smile crossed her face at the sound of his voice – a small smile. It was going to take more than a greeting from her husband to dispel the stress of her day. "Hi," she replied, letting out a breath and willing the tension to leave her body.
"You just getting off work?" It sounded like Henry was rushing around; she could hear the sound of his clothes rustling as he spoke to her.
"Yeah, I… What are you doing? Is this a bad time?" She was wound up enough to feel annoyance at the fact it might be a bad time for him, even as she knew he had plenty of responsibilities of his own whether she was there or not.
The rustling stopped and there was the sound of Henry sitting down heavily on something soft. "No," he answered. "It's not a bad time. I just got home. I'm in our room. It was just… it was just a bad day, that's all."
She could hear the stress on him. "You too, huh? What happened?"
"Oh, just your usual renegade asset, compromised mission, almighty dressing down from the boss kind of a day. And he didn't feel the need to do it in private, either. So that was great for my morale. And then I get home and you're not here." He said it cuttingly, like an accusation. Like he was blaming her for something. Then he sighed, long and low. "Sorry, babe. I don't mean it like that."
Elizabeth thought she would have risen to the unintended jibe if she hadn't been so tired. She simply didn't have the energy to row with him, even as the adrenaline still surging in her veins was making her spoil for a fight in search of a release. "It's okay. I had a crappy day, too."
She hauled herself off the bed to pace the floor, feeling the need to move as she ranted down the phone at her husband. "Oh, just your usual difficult diplomats, colleagues who can't get on the same page even though they share multiple interests, and smarmy career army generals who can't decide if they want to patronise me or just try to look down my blouse, but hey the meeting didn't start until after ten pm so why not do both – while drinking a large whiskey nightcap - to round off the day?" She came to a stop and rubbed her face with the hand that wasn't holding the phone. "I just feel like I need to blow off some steam, you know?"
"I know," Henry said, and she knew that if was in the room with her, he'd be looking at her with that expression that told her that he got it and that he was there for whatever she might need, be it swearing like a sailor about army politicians or… other things.
"It sounds like we both need that." The tension that had spent the past several hours humming around her body started to take on a subtly different pitch. She shifted, feeling the slide of her silk blouse over her torso. "I wish you were here right now. If you were here, I'd…" She caught herself before she could finish the sentence.
There was the sound of Henry breathing on the other end of the line. "You'd what?" he prompted. Then when she didn't reply, he said, "If you were here right now, I'd strip your clothes off, push you down on the bed and lose myself in you for a while."
His brazen statement made her gasp. "Henry!" She felt a shiver run through her as she thought of the scenario. "You know, I could go for that, as long as I got to strip your clothes off, too."
A dark chuckle came from the other end of the line. "You could do that. Or you could lie back naked on the bed and watch me strip for you."
"Oh, I like the sound of that one right now." Elizabeth climbed back onto the bed, settling back against the pillows and looking around at her plush but impersonal hotel room, wishing desperately that she was back at home with her husband so she could experience the scenario for real. A pulse beat between her legs and she felt the frustration that seeing him was still at least a day away.
There was a pause before Henry spoke again, and it sounded like he was making himself comfortable, too. "What are you wearing?"
The cliché question made her laugh briefly before the intent in his voice filtered through and she felt a small hint of uncertainty even as her body cried out for a release from the stress and tension of the day. "Henry, I…" She looked around the room as though someone might be watching.
It seemed that he could read her even from half a world away. "Your door is locked… it's a secure line… it's late at night… you want me?" His voice was at the same time soothing and laced with sin.
Elizabeth shifted on the bed, feeling the tug of her snug waistband and the slide of her legs against each other. She could feel the tension in her frame ready to turn at any second to full-blown arousal if she could only relax enough. She answered Henry's question, "Yes." She felt like he was taking care of her all the way from another continent. Then she countered, "You want me?"
He didn't hesitate in his reply. "Desperately."
The need in his voice caught at her and she brought one hand up to run lightly over her stomach through her blouse, feeling the cool silk slipping against her fingers. She was aware that her lips were parted like she was seeking Henry's kiss, and the frustration that he wasn't there surfaced once more. "God, I want you to kiss me right now."
"I want that, too," he said. "And I want to touch you. If I slid my hand into your underwear right now, would you be wet for me?"
She knew even without checking that despite the lust trickling slowly through her veins, she wasn't quite there yet. "You might need to put in a little more work first. I've had a really terrible day, I'm finding it hard to relax."
Henry hummed in the back of his throat. "That's okay, I can help with that. Spread your legs, babe."
Even though she was alone in the room and she knew without doubt there was no one to hear the conversation but Henry, she hesitated for a moment. Then she complied with the request, sliding her hand down her body to hitch up her skirt so she could part her knees a little.
"That's it," Henry encouraged. "Touch yourself. Stroke your skin. Lie back and relax."
She listened to the soothing sound of his voice and let it calm her as she trailed her fingers over the skin of her inner thigh. The cool air of the room felt good against her skin, a welcome contrast to the heat of her hand. But still the adrenaline lingered. "You know, Henry, I'm not sure if I want slow and steady tonight."
"No?" he queried.
"If I was there with you right now, I'd want it hard." She thought about what they might do if she was at home with Henry, the way he would strip her clothes from her slowly and then lie her down against the pillows and watch her with his heated gaze while he stood at the foot of the bed and took off his own clothes. Then he'd climb back over her with his eyes dark and his movements purposeful and – she wanted to feel him slam inside her.
The thought made her groan and she thought that she might be getting wet now. She inched her fingers higher up her thigh.
A strangled breath was audible from the other end of the line. "That's good, because I already am," Henry said.
"The thought of me is turning you on?" She knew full well that her husband found her sexy, but somehow the thought of being able to turn him on so easily when there was an ocean between them was a thrill she didn't know she had been seeking.
"You're touching yourself and thinking of me?"
For some reason the thought of it was more arousing than any touch she could give herself, and she felt the tell-tale trickle of wetness between her thighs. "I want it hard," she said, "but not too fast. I want it to last. And I want to feel you everywhere. I want you above me."
Henry moaned audibly. "I'd slide my arms under you to hold you close and so I could feel your body tight against mine with every movement."
Her breath caught in her chest and she felt her nipples tighten beneath her clothes as she imagined herself beneath Henry, his chest pressed deliberately against hers so he could make her skin tingle with every movement. And he would have most of the control over the movement from that position. Most – but not all. "I'd wrap my legs around yours so I could press up into you every time you pressed inside me."
Her husband's breathing on the other end of the phone line was getting increasingly erratic and she could hear the distinct sound of skin on skin. The thought of him touching himself stoked her temperature higher.
And higher again when he said: "Then when it got too much I'd pull your legs high up around my waist and hold you tight so I could just take you."
"Oh God, Henry." She couldn't stop the plea that fell from her lips, or her fingers from sliding beneath her underwear so she could press them against her clit, causing her hips to buck up from the bed and a strangled cry to leave her throat.
"That's it, babe," he murmured. "Are you touching yourself?"
"Yes – yeah."
"I'm imagining you now, lying on your bed in your hotel room." It was obvious from the tone of his voice that it wasn't going to take much more for Henry to come.
Elizabeth's fingers slid through the wetness that had gathered between her thighs, stroking over hot flesh before moving back up to her clit, her hips arching into the touch as her desperation for release started to grow. It felt good – so good – but it wasn't enough, her muscles still humming with the wrong kind of tension and her posture still a little tense after a day of stress and annoyance. She just couldn't quite let go. She practically sobbed in frustration. "Damn it! Henry, I –"
She thought about it, breathing hard and fast, tears representing several kinds of desperation pressing at her eyes as she clutched her phone hard in her hand, the little device hot against her face. "I need more!" she eventually exclaimed. "I need you… need you to make me come. I wish you were inside me."
"Oh, I wish that so much too, sweetheart. And I promise you, as soon as you get home tomorrow, we're going straight to our bedroom. But for now… for now just imagine it. How good it's going to be. My hands tight at your ribs. I love when I can feel you breathing. The way you're so alive when I'm inside you."
A rush of love for her husband flooded through her and Elizabeth felt herself sink back further into the plush pillows against the headboard. "Say more things like that."
She could hear the smile – and the arousal – in his voice as he continued. "I can just picture you beneath me, your back arching every time I thrust into you. The sounds you make when I kiss your neck or stroke your leg. The way you pull me closer. How you just let go when we're together."
Even though the low rumble of his voice was sending desire rolling through her veins and the pull of pleasure was starting to gather low in her abdomen at the images he created with his words, she stilled the movements of her hand inside her underwear for a moment. She whispered, "Let go, Henry. It always turns me on when you let go."
A catch of breath from the other end of the phone line accompanied the urgent rustle of clothing.
Knowing that Henry was so close made her feel bold, determined to bring him pleasure as a good end to his bad day. "Imagine I'm around you. Imagine… Feel my hand on your back, then stroking your face… Feel my muscles clench around you as you press inside." She swallowed as she pictured him jerking himself off in their bed. "See how much I love you."
"Close…" Henry stuttered out.
"God, Henry, when I get home I want you to fuck me. Fast and then slow. Every way we can."
Fast, heavy breathing was his response as he chased his release.
"It's gonna be so good," she said, humming in the back of her throat as she dipped two fingers inside herself. "I'm touching myself and imagining it. Imagining it's your fingers inside me." She slid her fingers a little deeper and moaned loudly at the sensation, her orgasm still just out of reach.
It was her moan that pushed Henry over the edge and he gave a brief, hoarse shout that she knew meant he had come and she smiled as she listened to his rapid breathing, the heat building within her at the sound of her husband losing it so completely thanks to a combination of her words and his own hand.
"You feel good, Henry?" she asked, a smile playing at her lips as she listened to him.
He took a few seconds to answer, no doubt struggling to collect himself enough to form a coherent reply. "So good, babe. Thank you." A smile entered his tone and when he spoke again his voice was throaty and laidback, as it always was after he'd had a good orgasm. "Now do as I say."
A thrill ran through her at his words and her lips parted in anticipation. "Tell me."
"You're touching yourself? You have your fingers inside?" he enquired.
She groaned. "Yes," she confirmed.
"Go deeper, press a little harder. Rub that spot that always drives you wild."
Elizabeth let her eyes slip closed as she followed Henry's directions, bending her knees to create more space for her hand to move between her legs. Her fingers slid inside a little deeper and she pressed up against the spot Henry had told her to reach. Her hips arched involuntarily and a sensual moan left her mouth at the intense sensation.
Henry's voice was pure sin as he went on. "When you get home I'm going to make you come with my fingers."
Light started to spark behind her eyelids at the combination of her touch and his voice and the thought of how good it was going to be when she finally made it home. Henry had always been so good with his hands. She swallowed heavily.
"I bet you're wet now," Henry said. "I bet you're close."
She didn't even need to answer to confirm the information; the sounds she was making as she moved her hand against herself was answer enough, the wetness spreading across her palm evidence of what this phone call was doing to her.
"Add another finger," he requested. "Feel yourself stretch around your hand."
"Oh God." Elizabeth did as he asked, easing a third finger inside and feeling the delicious stretch. Her hand wasn't as good as Henry's hand, but – oh – that felt good. She felt the tell-tale tingle of her orgasm coiling deep within her and thought it wouldn't take much more to push her over the edge.
It seemed that Henry sensed it, too. "That's it, baby," he said softly. "Now press your thumb against your clit."
She didn't even wait for him to finish the sentence before complying, the angle awkward but she could just about reach when she arched her back off the bed. The pressure against her clit made her hips buck and the growing pleasure build and she was so close – but not quite. She whined in desperation.
"Press harder," Henry instructed, as if he could read her thoughts from half a world away.
She pressed the ball of her thumb hard against the little bundle of nerves and suddenly she was flying, a cry of release and relief ripped from her throat as the pleasure washed over her, flooding through her veins to chase away the stress and tension she'd been carrying around with her all day, replacing it with lingering contentment.
Trembles continued to shudder through her for a few moments more as she came down from her high and pulled her hand away from herself, wiping her fingers against her leg. "Mmm," she said in lieu of words. She didn't think that there were words.
"That was beautiful," Henry told her. "The sounds you make when you're feeling good… I always love to hear you but only being able to hear you… I think it makes it even better."
A drowsy smile crept across her face at her husband's sweet words and the thought of him enjoying listening to her as he lay on their bed at home. "It is good," she agreed. "But not as good as the real thing."
Nothing would ever beat the feeling of him next to her, above her, below her, surrounding her – just with her.
"I can't wait to get home tomorrow," she said, blinking sleepily up at the ceiling.
"I can't wait for you to be home tomorrow." The anticipation was evident in Henry's voice. "So today was really crappy, huh?"
"You have no idea." She stretched out along the mattress, burrowing down into the thick, soft covers. She should really move, get up and change for bed, clean herself up a little bit, but she was so comfortable and warm and relaxed… her limbs felt heavy and reluctant to cooperate. "But I can say that it's ended pretty well."
"I can say the same," Henry agreed. Then when she didn't reply for long seconds, he prompted, "Babe?"
"Mmm?" Her eyes closed in a blink but then stayed there, unwilling to open again. Her brain was switching off, shutting down ready to sleep.
"I promise tomorrow will be better." Henry's voice held the tone of suggestion as well as genuine sentiment.
"You and me in our bed," Elizabeth mumbled, her words slightly slurred together as the last remnants of her adrenaline left her and left only blissed-out exhaustion in its wake.
"Right where we should be," he agreed.
It was possible he said something else afterwards but if he did, it was lost to her as she lost her battle to stay awake and slipped down into sleep, the phone connection to Henry remaining open until he realised what had happened and pressed the button to disconnect the call, leaving her for the night with the memory of his voice taking her to completion echoing through her dreams.