by Xavier Neal
“You're home,” Haven coos walking into our bedroom in just her white towel, wet hair wound tightly on the top her head.
My eyes fall onto wet mocha skin that's glistening in the light, calling for me to get up and touch her. To taste her. To use my body to dry hers. Fuck. Me. I need her under me. Now.
“Clint,” she says my name strutting over to me, the towel swaying slightly open giving me a brief shot of her toned inner thighs. My dick that's already ready pushes hard against my gym pants. She calls my name again, now standing right in front of me, “Can you hear me?”
Looking up at her brown eyes that seem to be swirling with excitement and lust, I reach my hand out to pull her into my lips. “No.”
Haven giggles and wraps her arms around my neck lowering her face to my neck. She's found a new spot right above my collarbone that gets me hard the minute her lips drop onto it. Every. Time. Her tongue strokes the spot and my fingers dig into her hips tightly. She pulls them off of me and whispers in my ear, “You smell like sweat, gun powder, and beer.”
I slide my hands up her thighs, “You used to like that smell.”
“I love it,” her tongue teases my earlobe. I moan slightly in response to the action and she whispers, “Love that sound too.”
My hand tightly clasps her bare ass and she leans her head back on a gasp exposing her neck for me to taste. Immediately I attach my lips and suck. When she gasps again pushing her body into me tighter I remove my hands and rip open her towel. Pulling away I admire all the exposed flesh desperate to savor her. To have her vibrating from my touch. To be so melted together we're one. We're whole again.
Slipping my fingers between her thighs a roar comes from the back of my throat at the wetness coating my fingers at the slightest touch. Arching into me she sinks down on my fingers, the bold move reminding me she's no longer the fragile girl that I once needed to protect from the world. No. This is the woman who can take care of herself. And me. Slowly Haven begins riding my fingers, my thumb toying with her clit, small mewls whimpering out of her, the pending orgasm obvious by her trembling body.
Not being able to resist, I ask as I lean back to watch the sight, “You missed me?” She moans louder, her muscles clenching down tightly on my fingers. I push a little harder on her clit and watch as she comes undone on my fingertips. Loudly. My name falling off her tongue in a praise. In a worship. In claiming. I'm the only one who can do this to her. For her. The only one that ever will. At that thought I pull my fingers out causing another soft gasp as she lowers her face to look back down at me.
In a pant she begs, “Clint...”
Reaching for her wrist where my name is tatted, I plant a kiss on it. After a long languorous lick I question, “Yeah baby?”
“I need you,” she flat out says.
With her still in my lap, I hold her with one hand while positioning myself all the way back on the bed. The minute I go to flip her over so she's underneath, she pushes my body back down and shakes her head.
Intrigued by her taking the lead I raise my eyebrows in question.
“You soldier should still be taking it easy,” she hums trailing her finger down my bare chest, brushing my nipples, which makes my cock push against her bare pussy. It's right there. So fucking close. When her finger runs over my tattoo I smirk at the playful look on her face. Her fingertips continue a path of torture across my skin and I stiffen in response. I want to roll her over right the fuck now. I want to show her how much I've fucking missed her. But this isn't about me. This is about both of us. She's got to know I trust her to be in control. Fuck. Can't I show her that later? A finger strokes the latest mark on my body and I wince. “That hurt?”
I shake my head. It doesn't. At least the mark itself. It hurts to know my life was almost taken from me before I got to really fucking live it. Enjoy it. Enjoy her.
“You sure?” she trails her finger over it again.
“I'm sure.”
“Good,” she scoots her body back so she's between my parted thighs, dragging my pants down. “I would hate to have to wait any longer to have sex in this marriage.” The laugh is small as I'm distracted by the sight of my naked wife removing the remainder of my clothes. How the fuck am I supposed to think about anything else? And even if I was in pain, fuck it. I'm not waiting any longer for this. For her. Haven wets her lips seductively, eyes on my cock that's sprung free. There's no way in hell I'm going to last if she wraps her lips around it.
“Haven,” I try to say firmly.
“I want you inside of me just as bad you wanna be there, but Clint...” a small pout comes on her face. “I just...I just want a small taste.” Unsure of what turns me on more, the sentence itself or the fact she feels brave enough to say it, I shut my eyes tightly. I can do this. If I make it through the torture tactics of HORN training, I can survive this. Haven's soft lips wrap around the tip and as if they have a mind of their own my hips push up, feeding more of my dick into her mouth. Holy. Fuck. Her lips slide off and lick the tip teasingly.
With my eyes squeezed tight enough to cave into my skull, I groan through gritted teeth, “Haven...”
She peels her lips all the way off and giggles as she looks up at me, “Impatient.”
“Yes.” I agree and gather her so she's straddling me again. Haven lowers herself slowly on top of my cock, the tight un-stretched muscles fighting back to let me fit, at the same time urging me to continue. I groan again, “Damn...”
She moans in response and it vibrates through me lifting my hips up to slide in deeper. As much as I want to keep my eyes shut, I force them open to enjoy the sight of her on top of me. Her boobs rising and falling, daring me to try to look the fuck away, luring my hands to grab them. Touch them. So I do. My hands reach up and give them a strong caress that has her moaning softly until a finger rolls across her nipple and she moans louder, a plea. Haven continues riding me back and forth, one hand anchoring her to me by her nails gripping the tattoo with her name while the other runs through her own hair looking like every fucking fantasy I've dreamt about since the last time we had sex. She keeps up this rhythmic porn show on top of me, clearly lost in the sensations by the way she keeps calling out my name. Bucking her hips. Gripping tighter onto me like she's afraid to fall. I want her to fall. Fuck that. I need her to fall.
“Come again for me Angel,” I whisper out my request and her pussy tightens ready to accept. Using both my hands I pull her down so she's layered completely on top of me and let my hips take over. Thrusting sharply inside I keep the rhythm slow. Each stroke long. Smooth. I don't want to miss a single fucking shiver from her.
Her voice croaks in my ear, “God Clint...I'm...I'm...”
I grip her tighter, my dick continues to rock into her as she finally lets go. In a long deep cry of my name she shatters, shuddering in wave after wave so hard and intense I can't fucking take it. With her wrapped tightly in my arms, I come inside her forcefully filling her with everything I have. It doesn't even feel like sex at this point. It feels like that moment of gratitude when you've returned home from the battlefield. The one where you're just thankful you're fucking alive. That you're back where you belong.
Collapsing on top of me Haven lets out an exhausted but pleased breath before pressing kisses on my jawbone line.
I let my fingers stroll up her sides as I say, “As my wife can I request you welcome me home like that every day Mrs. Walker?”
Haven giggles loudly. It's so full of life it's fucking intoxicating. I roll my lips over to plant a kiss on her forehead. “I will see what I can do Mr. Walker.” And with those words she tilts her lips back to mine. Fuck. I really do have a slice of heaven right here for me.
Official HORN Duty 56
With a good long yawn I pull Haven into me tighter. I should get up and go for a run. I should get up and keep my routine going. She whimpers a little in her sleep, her hand dipping low to my hips. A crooked smile appears on my face. I could also roll her over and slip inside. Or one
then the other.
Gently I roll Haven over and lower my lips to her neck creating a slow trail downward to wake her up in a way I know she'll approve of. With each stroke of my tongue across her skin she whimpers a little louder until my tongue dips directly on her clit. At that point my full name comes out, “Clint...”
My mouth slips off just enough to say, “Morning,” before diving back in. Her thighs slide open for me, welcoming my tongue for better access. After only a few rolls and one hard suck on her clit, she's dragging my body up hers. The second our lips touch I push inside her. Our tongues connect as I slide in slow, dragging out each stroke to make it last as long as I can. She grips my back tighter. I kiss her harder. One hand slides down her leg and pulls it up to reach deeper. When I hit the spot that lets me know I'm traveling down the highway to Heaven, her lips fall off mine too weak to do anything but moan. I lower my lips to kiss her throat. Her jawbone line. Her ear. Every spot I can reach while thrusting deeper and faster.
The increasing speed seems to be what she craves because she demands, “More.”
Damn. I give her exactly what she asks for pushing harder. It doesn't take many more thrusts before she's calling out my name in an orgasmic cry. One that lets me know I'm everything to her. That I own her. That she's giving me everything she has. Between that and the tightness of her walls encompassing me, my dick surrenders flooding her with the same submission she just gave me.
As I come down off the high that is known as my wife, I rest my forehead against hers. “How am I supposed to go for a run after that?”
Her giggle is followed quickly with a peck on the lips. “You're gonna run because you know when you get home I'll have breakfast on the table.”
The word breakfast makes me smile. “Deal.”
I drop another kiss onto her lips and slide out of the mess we've made. My mouth drops to insist that I'll help her clean up when she answers, “I'm gonna grab a quick shower. Don't worry about it.”
A short smirk comes on my face as I grab my sweats, boxers, a t-shirt and socks, the entire time Haven's bright brown eyes watching me from the bed, her body barely covered by the white sheet. Watching her watch me slows down the rate I get dressed. Fuck. Her eyes are undressing every piece of clothing I put on and by the time I'm dressed I want nothing more than to be back in the bed with her.
Sensing my hesitation she giggles and points a stern finger, “Go.”
“Yes ma'am,” I chuckle and head out of the room before I talk myself into taking her again.
My body tunes into autopilot the second my feet hit the pavement running. I want to push myself to be back to normal. To be better than I was before. Faster. Stronger. Increasing my speed I keep up my route through the neighborhood. Each time my foot hits the ground I find myself zoning in to a new peace inside. Centering myself in a new way. The appreciation to accept life for what it is kicking me in the lungs each time I take a deep breath. After forty five minutes of running there's an unbelievable buzz rushing through my veins as I stroll pass my father's truck that's in the driveway.
I open the front door just as he's heading down the stairs, already out of his uniform in a pair of sweats and t-shirt. When he reaches the bottom of the stairs he gives me a good morning nod. For the first time since I've been home from the hospital I give him a good once over. He still wears the stern expression on his face most days, yet he seems different. Freer. Calmer. I guess I'm not the only one who finally decided it was time to let some shit go.
Clearing his throat he says, “Morning Slugger.”
“Morning.” I reply kicking off my shoes.
“Can my two favorite men in the world please come enjoy breakfast before it gets cold?” Haven calls to the two of us, her smiling face putting plates down on the bar table. She's managed to put on one of my old t-shirts and a pair of her own holey jeans. Her hair is pulled to one side of her face and her tags are lying comfortably on her chest. The sight of her like this creates a lump in my throat. A knot so tight it stops me in my tracks. Seeing that she offers me a soft smile, “You okay?”
I force the anxiety of disbelief back down and nod.
“You sure?” she puts a hand on her hip and tilts her head.
Shaking away the feeling I reply, “I'm sure.” I walk over to the table where she has put full made plates for the two of us and I hesitate to sit down. My eyes glance over the table that hasn't been sat at in years. An aching sensation hits me in the ribs. I give my father a hard look as he goes to pick up his coffee. “Mind if we have breakfast at the other table?”
The action ceases as he stares back at me, uncertainty on his face. Haven says nothing from her position next to the counter, frozen in place. To my surprise his gray eyes soften, the clouds that were threatening to take over subsiding. He reaches for his cup and grabs his plate as well. “Yeah. Sounds like a good idea Slugger.”
Without another word I follow his action grabbing my plate and my glass of orange juice. Relocating to the table, the last piece of my mother's death I couldn't let go. I slide in on the inside so Haven can sit beside me. Once we're all settled, it takes a moment before anyone moves. I realize both sets of eyes are on me. On my trembling hand that's wrapped around my fork. I can do this. I have to do this. I owe her that.
Steadying my hand, I pick up my fork and dig into the scrambled eggs on my plate, the soft texture welcomed warmly by my tongue. With a smile I look over at Haven and nod. “I don't even think Mindy makes eggs this good.”
“Don't ever let her hear you say that,” dad chuckles lifting his coffee mug. “Might have to start callin' her slugger for what she'd do.”
The three of us laugh a little together, the tension at the table fading away as we begin to make new memories to replace the old ones that were left here to haunt us. Leaning back in the seat I continue to eat my breakfast listening to Haven and dad talk about his physical therapist who he still talks to. Somehow they've become friends. Friends that argue about everything, but friends. With a short smirk on my face I nod to myself as I enter a new light in my life. Turns out Death didn't win anything at all. I did.
Epilogue
“He's down!” a voice shrieks. “He's been hit!”
My body falls limp to the ground. The moment I feel the hard surface underneath me I let my eyes shut. Body still. Within seconds of my body being out of commission I feel pressure from a foot on my chest.
“I win!” the voice on top of my body shouts. “I win! Daddy's down!”
Chuckling I pop open my eyes and shake my head up at him. “Do you have to step on my chest?”
“Yes!” my three year old son says, his NERF gun pointed to the sky in victory. “I win mommy!”
On a chuckle I lift him off and up into my arms. “Yeah. You win champ.”
“You would think daddy would be better being in the Marines and all,” Haven playfully says carrying bags of chips to the picnic table.
I shake my head at her as Glove plops down at the table, “Right? He's letting a three year old out shoot him. We might need to change your nickname.”
“Does Uncle Glove need a reminder of why I'm nicknamed what I am?” my stern tone doesn't stick as my son tries to stick one of his NERF bullets in my ear.
“Well now that Uncle Glove is getting married, he might need a new nickname,” Haven winks placing fresh cut fruit on the table too.
“Spider-man,” JD says wiggling out of my lap into his seat next me.
“You think I should be called Spider-man?” he looks down at my son as Haven drops a beer in front of me and a kiss on my cheek.
“Yeah!” Afterward he starts pretending to shoot webs out of his hands while making sounds. To no surprise Glove joins in making the same motions. I shake my head. And to think he's about to get married.
“No webs at the table,” Mindy comes out of the house with a big bowl of salad.
“Aw, why not Mimi?” JD whines.
“Because the dinner table is for eating.” S
he tosses him a motherly look and he slouches into his seat.
Glove leans over and whispers, “It's okay nephew. After dinner I'll show you how I can hang from trees.”
He gasps loudly, but thinks he's whispering, “Just like the real Spider-man!”
“Exactly.” Glove proudly nods.
Rolling my eyes at his idiotic statement I simply let it go as the rest of the party guests fill up the backyard. The party for JD's third birthday is a simple cookout with all the family. Mindy came over early to help bake the birthday cake and prepare the side dishes, while Doug, Felix, and Striker came over to keep dad company while he grilled the burgers. I didn't mind one bit. While they were all standing around cooking, it let me run around the yard with Glove, Lordy, and JD. Fading in and out of the conversation I hear bits and pieces about Doug raving how Haven and Mindy's catering company recently won an award for best cake in the state. Second in the country. I overhear Glove, Lordy, Felix, and Striker discussing the upcoming year in football. At one point I hear Haven, Mindy, and Mandy discussing wedding details. Looking down at JD who thinks I don't notice him slipping Bones, our dog, pieces of his hot dog I smile wide and take another sip of my beer thankful to be surrounded by family.
After JD has blown out his candles and begun the process of stuffing cake into various parts of his face, I notice Lordy and Glove fiddling with his NERF guns.
Lordy calls to me, “Hey Grim.”
“What?”
“I bet I can take you on with one of these,” Lordy nods slowly admiring the weapon as if it really is one. “Friendly bet?”
“No,” I insist putting my beer down. “That has never ended well for you.”
“At least he wouldn't end up naked.” Glove tries to encourage.
“Don't say naked in front of my son.”
Lordy starts laughing tossing his head back when JD looks up at me, “Daddy you can beat Uncle Lordy!”
