Title: Homecoming

Title: Homecoming.

Rating: NC-17.

Pairing: Quil/Claire.

Summary: One-shot. Lemon. Quil comes home from patrol to a very pleasant surprise.

Warnings: Pure smut. SoloF. Voyeurism.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Stephanie Meyer, who I am not.

Quil hated going away. He hated being sent on these long, grueling patrols, which Alpha-Jake sent them on occasionally. Though they didn't happen often, being away from his wife for five whole days at a time was torture.

The wolf-man had met his mate when she had been only two years old, and since that moment, she had been his world. They had married the Saturday after her eighteenth birthday, and though being her best friend all of her life had been great at the time, being her husband was infinitely better. They lived in a state of constant bliss. Claire, now twenty-two, was as in love with her husband as the day she had married him.

The pack was having a quick meeting to discuss the findings of their nearly five day long patrol. Quil got there first and grabbed a quick shower as he waited for the others to get to Jake and Nessie's house. He had a couple of minutes to kill, and he didn't want to show up at home smelling as if he'd just spent a week in the woods, even though he actually had.

The rest of the pack showed up and they quickly relayed the information they had gathered, not that there was much to relay. Jacob tended to be a little over-zealous when it came to protecting La Push, and the tribe. Of course, they were all anxious to get home to their families, and especially to get away from Renesmee Cullen-Black, who looked like she was about to devour her husband alive. Jake, of course, looked as though he would like nothing better, and so the meeting was over quickly.

Ten minutes later, Quil was walking briskly to his home, which was only a short distance away, even without his shape-shifter enhanced abilities. He stepped through the side door to the house, the one they used most often, into the spotless kitchen. He froze automatically as he heard a voice cry out.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. That voice, he knew instinctively, belonged to Claire. Was she hurt? Was there something wrong? The noise sounded again, and Quil's eyes widened with surprise. Contrary to his original thought, she was definitely moaning with pleasure, not pain.

Fear overwhelmed Quil for a moment. She wasn't – she couldn't have someone else there, in their home – she loved him – she wouldn't do that to him. Anger began to replace the fear, and he strode toward their bedroom, which was where the noises were coming from. The door swung open silently, and Quil stopped dead in his tracks at the sight which met his eyes.

In the middle of their bed lay his beautiful wife, completely naked. Her skin was like copper, and her black hair was spread around her like a halo. And, as he had known deep down inside, despite his initial surface anger, she was alone.

Quil watched, transfixed, as his wife trailed her own fingertips across her skin. He saw the way she shivered at the sensation, and a sigh escaped her lips.

One of her hands came up to cup on of her perfect breasts. Quil licked his lips, watching her pinch her own nipple gently, before rolling the other one with her fingers. He could see how hard the little nubs were and he ached to touch them, to put his mouth on them, but he had never seen Claire do anything like this before and he wanted to enjoy it.

One of the young woman's hands traveled down, away from her breasts, and began to gently stroke her hipbones. The girl's breathing hitched, and she let out a loud moan at the sensation. Her hipbones were very sensitive, and she loved having them touched. He had discovered this by accident several years ago, and ever since then he had been able to turn her into butter in his hands just by touching her hipbones the right way.

She rubbed up and down against the bones, arching her back as pleasure shot through her. Need was building between her legs, and she wished more than anything for her husband to be home. She ached for him, but he wasn't due back for another day, so she was left to look after herself.

Her hand continued down, and she automatically spread her legs. Her fingertips traveled down to trace over her wetness, and she was not surprised to find she was already soaked. Thinking about her devastatingly handsome, sexy husband did that to her more often than not. She moaned as she thought about him, with his short black hair, smoldering brown eyes, and godlike body.

She became more and more turned on as she thought about him, and her mind began to form incredible pictures as she gently stroked her clit. She rubbed the little nub in circles, as she thought back to the other week when they'd been having a perfectly normal dinner, when suddenly they couldn't keep their hands off of one another. Claire had quickly found herself on her back, on the table.

She rubbed harder on her clit, thinking of the way he had practically torn off her clothes. He had then moved between her legs and spent what felt like hours using his magical tongue and lips and teeth and fingers to bring her endless pleasure. Another moaned escaped her, and she moved her right hand down to slide two fingers inside of herself.

"Quil" she moaned at the sensation, moving her fingers in and out of her hot wetness and longing for her husband.

The man's control snapped at that point. Hearing his mate moan his name, knowing that she was thinking about him, destroyed his self-control. He had to touch her now.

His clothes flew off as he strode toward the bed and climbed onto it. Claire's eyes flew open when the bed shifted, delighted surprise filling her eyes when she saw who it was.

He was on her before she could say anything, crushing his mouth to hers. His hand reached between their bodies to replace her two little fingers with two of his much bigger ones. He thrust the digits into her delightfully drenched center, a beautiful wail of pleasure slipping past her parted lips and into his mouth.

They devoured one another, tongues battling furiously, as Quil moved his fingers in and out, in and out, over and over, increasing the pressure, increasing the speed, until she clutched his shoulders and came violently. He loved making her orgasm – she looked so beautiful as it happened, her body tensing up, shaking, and then convulsing as wave after wave flooded through her. He could watch her orgasm for hours.

Without waiting for her to finish her orgasm, Quil removed his fingers and easily slide his hardened member inside of her. It was heaven, feeling her tight, warm, soaked walls clenching around his length. He shuddered and she moaned in pleasure at the sensation of being so fully filled. Quil fit perfectly inside of her, and then began to move, rocking back and forth.

The girl lifted her legs, as her husband began to move inside of her, wrapping them around his waist. Her arms were around his neck, holding him as close as was possible. He thrust hard into her, sending jolts of pleasure throughout her body every time he pushed in.

His wonderful hardness stroked over her favorite spot over and over again, making her head spin. She felt the familiar pressure building in every part of her body, making her tense up. She felt the pleasure threaten to wash over her, and before she knew it she was coming again.

"Quil, Quil," she whined as she came, holding on tight to his shoulders.

"That right, baby, come for me," he directed hotly, his mouth finding any bit of her skin that he could, as he continued thrust roughly into her.

Shortly after Claire, Quil felt the pressure in his groin explode. He moaned Claire's name, burying his face in her shoulder until he had stopped shaking, and his cock had stopped pulsing inside of her.

Exhausted, he rolled over; pulling her into his arms, he grinned. She was beaming back at him, and they shared a sweet kiss.

"I thought you weren't coming home until tomorrow," she murmured with happy surprise, her eyes shining with the love she felt for him.

"Jake let us off early. I think he missed Nessie too much," Quil responded with a chuckle. "By the way, that was quite a show you put on, Mrs. Ateara."

Claire blushed dark red and hid her face in his chest. "I didn't know you were coming home," she admitted, clearly embarrassed.

"Well, I'm not complaining," Quil answered. "That was the sexiest thing I've ever seen."

Claire lifted her head and peeked up at him from beneath her dark lashes. "Really?" she asked, and he grinned at the hint of excitement in her voice.

"Oh, absolutely," he replied, completely honest. "You're my dream come true."

Claire smiled smugly. She loved to hear her husband say things like that. She snuggled closer, basking in the warmth, which radiated from him.

"I love you, Claire," he murmured, although he didn't need to. She knew.

"I love you too, Quil," she replied, although it was equally unnecessary. "Welcome home."