The door clicked shut behind him and he sagged. "God, these fucking things are heavy," he groused. "When'll you learn to pack light for a trip?"
"Oh, shut up," she smirked. "You'd rather I stayed away for a couple more weeks?"
He snorted. "As if. It was bad enough living without you for six months."
"How bad, exactly?" she inquired dulcetly.
He gave her a very direct look. "I haven't left the house. I don't have any energy, any appetite -- for anything. I haven't slept for more than two hours since dropping you off at the airport. Vicky, don't you fucking know that you're got your claws sunk deep in me?"
She smiled. "Yes, but it's always nice to hear it. Ohhh, don't look so annoyed. C'mere. Kiss me. Show me how much you've missed me."
A trail of tangled clothes told the tale of their hasty rush towards reunion; a broken newel post on the bannister spoke of the brief but intense interlude on the stairway, when she grabbed on for support as he plunged deep, driving her hard and fast against the railing. The screaming had barely stopped from the first time before she was coaxing him back into life, straddling him in the hallway and wrapping her legs around his ass. He managed to lift and drop her onto his thick branch as he staggered into the bedroom, swaying in reverse to fall backwards onto the bed with her pressing him down. And she moaned, and he thrust, and she bounced on him with increasing fervor, and he shouted her name, and spasmed within, feeling her draw him out to his utmost.
"Missed you so," he murmured, hearing the thunder of his heartbeat slow. She gave no response in words, but lifted her head for a searing kiss, hitched herself higher and around him, asprawl and content, breathing hard, setting her mouth against his throat for a happy humming sound of wordless pleasure.
His arms tightened around her. Oh, it was good, so very good, to have her back home.