salute [h.s]

the one with piper's "special alone time"

Harry was done with missions for good. Okay, maybe not for good because he needed some sort of income and it's not like quitting MI6 was an option but he was done with them for a long time at the very least. He'd had it up to here with bureaucracy and debriefs that took hours and bumbling junior agents who didn't know up from down.

He'd had the most exhausting day, flying home from Santiago which meant he'd lost 4 hours, and he was so tired as a result. When he'd landed in Heathrow, he'd just wanted to grab a cab home so he could collapse in bed and maybe convince Piper to give him a back rub because sitting in coach had done his back in completely. Instead, he'd been whisked off to Vauxhall Cross for a debrief that took way too long because no one seemed to know how to do their jobs any more.

By the time he got back to HQ, he was drained and all he wanted was to sleep. The lights were off in the house so he kept his tread light as he climbed the stairs from the garage and crossed the kitchen to their side of the house. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard metal jangling together, sighing when Bertie got up from the corner of the room and trotted over.

"What're you doing down here, bud?" Harry asked as he gave Bertie a pet. The setter nosed at Harry's knees and then licked his jeans as dogs were wont to do. Or, at least, this dog. "Did Piper exile you? Have you gotten in trouble again?"

He wasn't sure why he was expecting an answer from the dog because he certainly didn't receive one. After rubbing Bertie's side heartily, he sent the dog back to his bed in the corner and then headed for the stairs. He was surprised, halfway up, to find the bedroom door ajar, a low light shining through. He checked his watch - nearly 2:30 - and wondered what she was still doing up.

He pushed the door open and stopped in his tracks at the sight that lay before him. Sprawled on top of the covers was his beautiful girlfriend. Her eyes were shut tight, her cheeks were flushed, and she was chewing on her lip. Her chest was heaving beneath her thin lace bralette.

And she had her hand slipped into her pyjama shorts.

He was so stunned that for a moment he couldn't even move, could only watch the slight shift of her arm as she worked herself up and the rise and fall of her breasts, her nipples pressing against the thin lace. His eyes drifted to her face, the mix of pleasure and pain that spread over her features. If she bit her lip any harder, she'd chew it right off. He was tempted to replace her teeth with his own.

When she let out a low whine and then muttered his name, a breathless Harry that slipped from her lips mindlessly, he found himself reaching down to palm his cock through his trousers which were suddenly much too tight.

He couldn't remember having ever seen anything hotter than this in his entire life. He'd known that Piper was very liberal in her sexuality and she often touched herself to help along the process during sex. He thought it was sexy that she was empowered to give herself pleasure without feeling obliged to rely on him and it had always helped him get off faster when she slipped a hand between them and rubbed herself.