We are not going back

SMUT part one

[Few months after Kamala and Eleonora were shot]

Kamala came home late that night, her shoulders heavy with the weight of whatever battles she had fought in the White House. I could see the exhaustion in her eyes, though she tried to hide it with a smile the moment she saw me.

"Long day?" I asked softly, meeting her at the door, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips.

"You have no idea," she sighed, leaning into me for a moment, letting her guard down just a little. "I could really use a distraction."

"I think I’ve got just the thing," I whispered, my hands slipping around her waist. “How about a massage?”

Kamala smiled, the kind of smile that reached her eyes, softening the sharp edges of her day. “I won’t say no to that.”

She headed to the shower to wash away the day, and I set up in the bedroom, dimming the lights and grabbing the bottle of oil from the drawer. The scent of lavender and sandalwood filled the room as I warmed it between my hands, waiting for her.

When Kamala stepped out of the bathroom, her hair damp, her body wrapped in a soft white robe, she looked at me with that small, playful smirk. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble, you know.”

I shook my head, my lips curving into a smile. “You deserve it, Kamala. Now come here and let me take care of you.”

She moved toward the bed, but I could tell she was hesitating. She sat down, still wrapped in her robe, her eyes watching me as if waiting for permission to relax. She always carried herself with that quiet authority, even when she was supposed to be off-duty.

"Robe off," I said, my tone soft but firm, a small tease in my voice.

Kamala raised an eyebrow, but she didn’t argue. Slowly, she untied the belt of the robe, letting it slip from her shoulders, revealing her body beneath. My breath caught for a moment as I took her in- her skin, still glistening slightly from the shower, her muscles taut from the tension of the day.

I could see the faint scars, the remnants of the gunshot wounds, but they were healing beautifully, blending into her skin, marking her body with strength. She lay down on her stomach, the smooth curve of her back exposed, her legs stretched out beneath her.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Kamala murmured, her voice teasing but a little shy. “I’m not as flawless as you think.”

“You’re perfect,” I whispered, kneeling beside her, running my hands over her shoulders, feeling the tightness there, the tension knotted deep in her muscles.

She hummed softly in response, her body relaxing slightly under my touch. I poured the warmed oil into my hands and began to work it into her skin, starting with her shoulders, kneading gently at first, then deeper as I felt her start to melt beneath me.

Her head turned to the side, resting on her folded arms, her eyes closed, her lips parted as she let out a soft sigh of relief. “God, that feels good.”

I smiled to myself, my fingers working their way down her back, pressing into the knots with slow, deliberate strokes. I took my time, making sure to ease the tension from her muscles, letting the oil glide over her skin. As I moved lower, I could feel her body responding, her breath coming a little faster, her skin warming beneath my touch.

“Do you like that?” I asked softly, my hands slipping lower, kneading the small of her back, fingers teasing the curve of her hips.

“Mmm,” Kamala moaned, her voice a low, breathy sound. “Yeah.”