Author's note: So, it's been a while... but I had a flash of inspiration, and I figured there can never be too much Mike and Rachel smut in the world! This is set in the Step universe, but you can read and enjoy without any of the back story, trust me! And if by chance you do enjoy, I'd love a review…
Rachel Slattery banged the pot down extra hard on the countertop, revelling in the satisfying bang that matched her furious mood perfectly.
"Five years," She huffed under her breath, banging the pot again. "Five years, and he can't even be bothered to remember."
"Mommy?" Her five year old son stood in the doorway, rubbing his tousled hair with his little hand, his eyes still sleepy.
"Oh Jamie! I'm sorry, did mummy wake you?" Guilt washed into the storm of anger inside her, creating an unpleasant mixture. "How was your nap?"
"Can I play Nintendo?" Jamie asked, clearly spotting the opportunity of a distracted mom, and she couldn't help but smile.
"Sure. Just til daddy gets home, okay?" And when Daddy gets home, he is in so much trouble, she added to herself.
Admiral Mike Slattery opened the front door very softly, though he needn't have concerned himself, given the loud banging of pots and pans coming from the kitchen, and the canned music coming from the living room. He carefully placed down one of his packages on the hall table, and approached the living room just as his son appeared. He placed a finger over his lips and Jamie understood immediately, giggling silently.
Mike sensed rather than heard the footfalls behind him as Kara Green crept into the house. She beckoned for Jamie, a finger over her own lips, and the five year old obediently moved towards her.
"Do you want to come for a sleepover?" Kara whispered to him, and Jamie nodded enthusiastically.
"Good boy, we're going to stay real quiet so your dad can surprise your mom, okay?"
Jamie nodded again, and Mike bent to kiss his son's head as Kara led him silently out of the house, turning in the doorway to shoot Mike a quick wink.
Grateful that the banging from the kitchen hadn't abated and his stealthy mission had been successful, Mike straightened and checked his appearance quickly, shifted the smaller packages he had brought into the crook of his arm, and catfooted towards the kitchen.
"Fucking men!" Rachel huffed as she banged one dirty pot against another in the sink, "Selfish, forgetful, ungrateful-"
Someone loudly cleared their throat behind her and she whirled around, the scowl on her face disappearing into a look of wonder as she took in the sight before her.
"You said something, sweetheart?" Mike tried not to crack a smile as Rachel continued to stare at him open mouthed.
Mike stood in front of her, resplendent in full dress whites, including his cover, a bunch of roses and bottle of champagne tucked securely into the crook of his arm.
"You didn't forget." She managed, and he did smile then.
"No, Dr Slattery, I did not forget our wedding anniversary."
"But this morning-"
"I left you to sleep while I got the early start that allowed me to finish early and prepare this." Mike set the flowers and champagne down on the counter and moved towards her.
"Prepare what, exactly?" Rachel asked, her tone a little suspicious.
"Kara's taken Jamie for a sleepover, I brought food back with me and," He reached out and pulled her into his arms, "I was kind of hoping this uniform might have the same effect it usually does on you."
Rachel burst out laughing, but the way she snuggled into his embrace told him he'd got this one right.
"You only missed one thing," She said, smiling up at him.
He raised an eyebrow in question.
"You didn't give me the chance to pick out a suitable outfit in advance."
"Kind of goes against the idea of a surprise." He pointed out.
"Well, give me five minutes and I'll rectify the situation." Her smile was a little wicked, and he responded with one of his own.
"Five minutes?"
She gestured towards the bedroom. "Five minutes."
Four minutes and fifty eight seconds later, Mike pushed open the bedroom door and lost his breath. Rachel was laying propped on one elbow on their bed, her long dark hair spilling over her shoulders, a teasing smile on her lips, and not a stitch of clothing on her body.
He swallowed hard and stepped closer to the bed. "Perfect outfit sweetheart."
"I thought so." She replied.
"It's just missing one thing..." He carefully removed his cover and fitted it to Rachel's head as she started to laugh.
"That really do it for you?" She asked.
"You have no idea," He replied sincerely, "No one has ever looked that good in a cover, my hand to god."
"Well alright then." She kneeled up and started to undo the fastenings of his jacket. "And just for the record, no one fills out a dress uniform as well as you do-" She dropped her hands abruptly, her smile widening. "Does this remind you of anything?"
He quickly searched his memory and drew a blank. "Give me a clue?"
She met his eyes, bit her lip, and slid a hand down her own body, slowly tracing a line between her breasts and over her belly.
"The first time we shared an actual bed together..."
"The party," He managed, his mouth suddenly dry as he struggled to take his eyes from her wandering hand.
"That's right. The hotel, when we finally got off the James. You came to find me..." Her hand slid lower still, "...and I told you I wasn't tired any more..."
As her hand reached its target and she let out a moan, Mike grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand away, and gently pushed her back onto the bed.
"I remember exactly what happened next," He told her, his voice gravelly with desire, before he lowered his head and kissed her belly, "Except then I had to tear your panties off."
"I wanted to make it easy on you-" She began, but her words disappeared into a gasp as his mouth sought out the wet heat between her legs.
Mike felt her fingers dig into his scalp, heard her breathy moans, but he was consumed by her taste, her heat, her trembling thighs against his palms as he held her legs apart, the way she flooded for him as his tongue moved over her.
And then just as she had on that long ago night, she arched and gasped the words, "Please fuck me!"
"Now?" He asked, looking up at her, their eyes meeting, hers clouded with desire.
"Now!" She demanded.
He fumbled with his fly, not bothering to remove any clothing, just freeing himself enough to obey her order and sink deep inside her. His lips sought hers, gentle at first, but as her hands found his ass and she clenched around him, he drew back a little to look at her.
"Tell me what you want, Rachel."
"You. Hard, fast, noooow." It was almost a whine, and he almost smiled. Knowing he could still drive his wife crazy was pretty damn satisfying.
But it was even more satisfying to drive deep, receive her shout of affirmation, feel her squeezing around him, hot and wet and perfect, as he took her hard, hips hammering against hers, until she arched and cried out to him and to god, and he was able to let go as he groaned her name.
He took her with him as he rolled onto his side, cradling her close and finding her mouth with his for a gentle kiss. Her eyes were half closed as she snuggled into him. He reached around and his hand closed on the cover that had fallen from her head. "You lost this." He commented, resting it against her hair, and she giggled softly.
"You're wearing too many clothes now."
"You're a difficult woman to please." He mock grumbled. "Clothes on, clothes off, make up your mind."
She giggled again. "Clothes on was very good, but clothes off now, please."
"What about dinner?" He asked.
"I'm too satisfied to move." She stretched a little in his arms. "But you can bring us a picnic, maybe..."
He grinned, stroking a hand over her hair. Possibly the greatest secret he'd ever uncovered was how cute the fearsomely bright and ballsy Rachel Scott was when she'd been thoroughly satisfied. And it was a secret he never planned on sharing with anyone else.
With a mock sigh of complaint, he untangled himself from her and stood, his legs just slightly unsteady, as he removed the offending clothing. Once he was naked, he raised an eyebrow, enjoying how she watched him.
"Satisfied? Want your picnic now?"
"Almost..." She shot him that wicked smile again, and he only just had time to react as she threw his cover to him. He caught it in one hand, and she raised her own eyebrow.
"You forgot your cover, Admiral."
And with a perfectly straight face, Mike set the cover atop his head, saluted her smartly, and went to fetch her supper.
Thank you for reading! This was inspired by chapter 16 of the Last Step, and my love of a man in dress uniform (though my favourite serviceman wears dress blues)!