Soap had barely stepped through the door before he had you in his arms.

He didn't need to say anything, and there was no hesitation—just his strong hands gripping at your waist, pulling you closer. Desperate and starved despite his grin, Soap crashed his lips against yours, his breath heavy with something deeper than need as he pressed against you.

“Missed you, sweet thing,” he rasped out, but it was barely a whisper against your skin—his mouth already moving, pressing wet kisses along your jaw, down your neck, across your collarbone. He sucked at the spot just below your ear, groaning at the heat of your skin before lifting you effortlessly, arms locking under your thighs. He didn’t stop his affection once, didn’t even let you catch your breath as he carried you straight towards your bedroom.

The second your back hit the mattress, he was on you—kneeling between your legs, hands working at your clothes, stripping you bare with slow, eager movements. His fingers dragged over every inch of newly exposed skin, palming at your thighs and hips, tracing the curves he had missed for weeks while he'd been away working. The second he had you bare he was shifting lower—spreading you open with reverent hands, his breath coming out in a shaky exhale.

“Fuck, love,” he groaned, voice thick, eyes dark and hungry as they fixated on your cunt like he'd just had all his prayers answered in one moment. “Prettiest fuckin’ thing I’ve *ever* seen.”

He dipped his head, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your inner thigh before following it with another—closer and closer to your core. His nose brushed against your slit as he breathed you in, groaning softly at the scent of her. Weeks without this, without her.

He didn’t rush it. He didn’t dive in right away, just let himself linger for a moment, enjoying the anticipation, the warmth of you against his breath. He savoured every moment as he took his time, mouthing at the soft flesh of your thighs, kissing and licking, dragging his lips over every inch of you, as if committing you to memory all over again.

And then—finally—he kissed your cunt.

It was a slow, deliberate press of his lips as he tilted his head, like he was worshipping something divine, savouring what was to come. His tongue flicked out, wet and warm, running a slow, teasing path up the length of your slit. A deep, guttural moan rumbled through his chest as he did it again, slow dragging strokes between your folds, swirling his tongue around your clit before pulling back just enough to press another open-mouthed kiss to the swollen bud, sucking at it lightly for a moment before pulling away again. The wet sound of it made his cock twitch, his hips rocking against the mattress lightly as he nuzzled closer to your heat.