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“Dammit!”
Loid's fist connects with the wall in a resounding crack, leaving behind a deep crater on impact. He runs his other hand through his hair, gripping tightly as if to rip them out by the roots. His feet are starting to get sore with the force they stomp on the linoleum floor as he paces around the house. No, he tells himself, shaking his head adamantly. Surely there is something he’s missing. Think, Twilight, think.
He takes in a deep breath, trying to steady himself again as he tries to consolidate the information he’s gathered so far. No matter where he finds himself, he can tell. Even in the periphery of his vision, there’s always something watching him. Always some camera hidden in sight. He’d tried as well - removing one of them, even innocuously draping a cloth over another. But for every trick he’d try to pull, it’d been immediately noticed.
And with the warning beeps he’d been responded with, he could tell that the threat wasn’t empty, after all.
The house itself is spotless, slightly larger than their apartment . Its windows are, however, completely boarded by metal curtains. There is not a vent or chute or viable escape route in sight. And no amount of knocking, kicking, or using furniture as makeshift battering rams seems to get the locked front door to budge.
Loid sighs as he takes out his phone, scowling in annoyance to see that the signal hadn’t just magically appeared back. 9pm - less than three hours until the fatal deadline. And all this while, what had even transpired? It feels like close to no progress has been made at all. No escape plan, not even a single inkling as to how to remove themselves from the mess he’d put them in.
He kicks the coffee table in a spike of white-hot anger, toppling the wooden structure over and shattering the glass bowl that had sat upon it. Instinctively, he bristles just at the sound of rushing footsteps to his side. He relaxes his fighting stance, of course, when he sees who it is.
“Loid!”
“I’m okay, Yor,” he mutters under his breath, adjusting his shirt’s collar as she stops in front of him. “Anything on your end?”
She shakes her head, unable to disguise the dismay in her frown. “Still nothing,” she whispers quietly.
“Sh- hmm. This is bad,” he mutters in a low voice, pinching the bridge of his nose and screwing his eyes shut. Come to think of it, this had been all his fault, hadn’t it? It’d been a full day yesterday, taking care of Anya and spending time with Yor. So when his head hit the pillow for the night, he’d been more entrenched in the throes of slumber than usual. He barely even registered the masked men infiltrating his room, and he’d only just pulled back his fist before he was knocked out cold.
He turns his face away from her, but even so, taking a glimpse of her is enough to drop an anvil of guilt upon him. What if he’d just been a little more alert? Just a few more steps ahead? Surely he wouldn’t have landed themselves in this mess, and made her so despondent - it’s an unbearable thought. He can’t imagine just how Anya, or Bond, must feel right now either.
“How are you, Loid?” she asks, stepping closer to him. “Are you hurt?”
He shakes his head, maintaining his gaze away from her. Even now when he’s throwing a tantrum like this, she’s still concerned about his well-being. And he’s supposed to be the one protecting this family?
“I’m fine, thank you,” he says, mustering as much of his sanity back as possible to keep his voice even. “Are you hurt? I know you said they didn’t hit you, but-”
“I’m fine too,” she interrupts. She nods placatingly, but not before her expression falters again. “I just- I’m worried, about Anya. I can’t help but blame myself, if I’d only just been awake a little earlier, she wouldn’t be in danger, and then we wouldn’t-”
“No.” His word is as final as it is stern. “This is my fault, too. I- I should’ve protected you too. I’m sorry. I must be a failure of a father and a husband, that we’ve ended up like this.”
“No you’re not…” Her frown deepens, and she reaches a pensive hand towards him. But before Loid can even consider whether he would’ve preferred to have her touch him, she retracts it in a jerk, a flash of denial appearing across her face. “Don’t say that, Loid. You’ve done your best. You always do.”
He bites his lower lip, not quite able to look at her. He knows that she’s wrong, but somewhere he knows that telling her otherwise outright would be a wrong move. Isn’t it always Yor, who tries her best every day, being such a caring mother towards Anya and wife for him? She might as well be a real mother of the house. Minus the physical affection and the actual, romantic attraction towards him.
No, Twilight, he tells himself. It’s about time you step up for a change.
He takes in a deep breath, before turning to her, and cracking about as reassuring a smile as he possibly can. “I appreciate that, Yor,” he tells her. “Thank you. For everything.”
“It’s no problem at all,” she replies, still beaming at him.
Still, his smile is merely ephemeral; his eyes narrow in contemplation. “I - I only wish I knew how to get us out of this,” he admits, clenching his fists into balls again. “But it seems like all the exits are blocked. And even if we try anything funny-”
“You hear it too?” She twiddles her thumbs together, shaking her head slightly. “The beeping of the mines?”
“Exactly,” he sighs. A part of him wants to think nothing of it, of course. Perhaps the beeping is some simulation and that he could just break out with no fear of retaliation. But the risk of finding out the hard way is too high - and jeopardizing him, and more importantly Yor - is just not worth it.
“Looks like what they say is true,” she says. “Does… does that mean?”
Loid’s face instantly turns pale, and he takes a step back. “What… what are you implying?”
“Loid,” she says, trying to remain calm and logical in her tone. “I think… I think we don’t have a choice here. Everything in that note seems real, doesn’t it?”
“... yes, it does,” he admits, pursing his lips together. His brain almost overheats, with the volcanic flood of thoughts engulfing him. “But surely, surely there has to be some other way out-”
“I don’t think there is,” she says, with a finality that spells out their fate like a bad omen. “I - at least. I don’t think we’ll find one in the next 3 hours or so. Not without the mines-“
Loid twists his mouth into an uncomfortable shape, a blood vessel near his temple about to pop. “So what you’re suggesting is…”
“Loid, I- it’s only for one night. Think- think about it, yeah? It’s the easiest way for us to get out of this. And besides… we have to save Anya and Bond.”
His scowl deepens in sheer disgust and anger, when he registers just how correct she is. He whispers under his breath,
“...fuck.”
Truth to be told, these past few hours roaming the house and engrossing himself in looking for an exit also had a dual purpose for him. That line… that cursed, completely out of place demand for them to make. What the hell was this supposed to be?
If he has to be truthful, the reason why he’s averse to it has nothing to do with the current circumstances. Nor were these reasons selfish at all. Loid had lost his virginity years ago, after all. Sometimes desperate times call for desperate measures - that is, times he'd needed to get the necessary intel or blackmail. So how was this any different from those times? He’d basically be having sex simply to save his own skin.
And yet…
His gaze meets hers, donning a serious, intent expression as he puts a firm hand on her shoulder.
“You… have you ever done it before?”
He knows the answer before it even leaves her lips. “N-no.”
“I see.” Of course she doesn't need to ask him the same question; after all, she still thinks Anya is his real daughter. “And you - you’re okay? With all of this?”
She briefly puckers her lips together in what he can only read to be a mix of contemplation and reluctance. When she turns to him, he can read a hardened determination on her face.
“Yes.” Her voice is resolute. “Anything to save Anya. And anything to save you, Loid.”
He can’t help it; his hands start to tremble, and he has to make an effort to control his breathing.
“Yor,” he starts, licking his lips together. “Listen. You - you’re right. We have to save-... save our family. But I- well, I don’t want to hurt you. Or make you do something you don’t want to. So - if it feels like you’re being forced to do it against your will, I- please, tell me. Honestly. And I will do everything I can, to find another way.”
For a moment, from the way she pauses, taking in a deep breath, a flicker of hope ignites within him. A hope that she’d agree not to play by someone else’s rules, and not to subject herself to something she doesn’t even want to do. But then she speaks.
“Loid.” She smiles at him, one that is so filled with genuine serenity and assurance that it’s contagious. She holds him by the forearm, rubbing her thumb against his skin. “It’s okay. I-… if it’s what it takes, I’m oka y with it. After all, I trust you… so if it’s with you, I’d be more than willing to do it.”
The reaction kicks in within him so quickly that he has to bite his tongue hard, to stop himself from overreacting. Steam pours out of his ears, and for a moment his head goes dizzy. There really is no going two ways about it, is there? And… and of course, to hear her say that she- she trusts him?!
He turns to the nearest camera, up in the ceiling by the corner of the room, his face now completely scarlet.
“You!” He yells, brandishing a finger at the camera, his tone completely saturated with a violet rage. “You better promise my family will make it out of here alive if we do this!”
DING!
They jolt, completely startled when the soft, metallic bell resounds throughout the room. He makes a beeline towards the door, foolishly expecting a visitor that he can open the door to. (And, of course, there’s no one there.)
He clenches his teeth together, looking back at Yor. Really, the mere notion of… well, any form of physical intimacy, already had his heart beat even faster within his chest, his blood pump a little warmer through his body.
And for it now, to be of the highest form of such intimacy - it makes his mind go nearly completely blank.
He knows he has no time to lose. No time to rue the situation he’s put themselves in. No time to lose himself to the fantasies that he’d thought he would keep to himself and only himself.
For the sake of Anya, Bond, Yor - he’d have to do it.
He nearly punches a hole through the door just having to imagine what would happen next.
Loid heaves a sigh of relief when the hot water begins to cascade on his body again. He drops his shoulders by a fraction, as he feels the knots in his back become undone.
It’s a relief that is only temporary, however. And no turning the knob of the shower to increase the temperature can do enough to truly calm him. He takes in a deep breath, holding it within his chest for as long as possible, closing his eyes in meditation.
This is really happening.
Him. And Yor. Now.
He releases his breath suddenly by mistake, and he almost chokes on the steam that he inhales as a reflex. The sound of the water masks his exasperated, vexed groan. Why? What did she do to deserve this kind of treatment? This was beyond unfair to her - and, even if she’d denied it, it really was all his fault. Wasn’t it?
When he steps out of the shower to towel himself dry, his attention turns to the now, fogged up mirror. He blinks rapidly. He’s not sure if his eyes are deceiving him, or if someone else had done this, or… no, Yor couldn’t have done this. Why would Yor trace her finger into a large heart along the surface of the mirror? Such that when he looks at it now, his face is right in the center of it?
He shakes his head, and once he’s dry, he quickly dons the admittedly rather fluffy bathrobe on the hook at the door. This place really had everything, did it? Hot water, clothes, furniture enough to modestly decorate the place? Even some instant meals in the kitchen that he’d determined with 99% certainty not to be poisonous.
And, of course, a giant, king-sized bed, complete with rose petals and scented candles on the nightstands.
As he stands next to the door, he tries again. He holds another breath, pressing his palms together as hard as possible, clearing his mind of every last festering emotion in his head. Come on, Twilight. You’ve done this so many times already, all without even a single lick of emotion. This should be no different. This should be no different at all.
Shouldn’t it?
He takes a gulp of saliva, and opens the door.
Somehow, despite being under the same roof for so long, he and Yor hadn’t really gotten into too many mishaps around each other. (Well, at least for him; he was fairly sure she’d caught him in just his trousers a couple of times.) The most skin he’d ever seen her show was when she was exercising - in a simple tank top and shorts.
Of course, the bathrobe covered her up a little more, but still. The lingering knowledge that, one tug of the string around her waist and she’d be fully bare, made his heart skip a few consecutive beats. He takes the effort to walk up to her at a regular pace, trying not to startle her as he takes his seat right next to her.
Staring a little closer to her face, he espies that she’s wearing make-up, likely applied when it’d been his turn to wash up. Even now, she’s trying to make herself look presentable... Perhaps it was for some boosted confidence on her end. But with the circumstances they’re in, he cannot help but think of her to be absolutely, undeniably gorgeous right now. And what more, think that she made herself look this gorgeous for him.
When he sees her ruby red eyes flicker towards him, he jerks his head back to the front, his eyes slightly widened and his lips pressed together in a thin line. Twilight! He couldn’t help but chide himself. What is going on, Twilight? You’re acting like a goddamn teenage boy, for such a simple mission, too. Get your head back in it!!
His eyes turn towards the dresser in front, with the wine bottle that they’d found, along with two full glasses. He remembers, of course, that they’d agreed to take a couple of sips before they were to get down to business. He'd decided against it at the last minute. (After all, he'd need every last iota of composure he can muster together.) And looking at Yor, he can’t quite discern if she’s taken any alcohol of her own either.
He clenches his fists tighter again, his fingernails making faint indentations in his palms, as he turns back to Yor. He can see her face sport a rosy hue - which, of course, is completely natural, completely understandable. This is her first time, and she’s about to have it with someone that she doesn’t even have romantic feelings for. God, if he’s having such a hard time now, what about her? Again, to say that it was immensely unfair to her would be a gross understatement.
“Yor,” he mutters, breaking the silence between them. She jolts a little, turning her head to side to meet his gaze, her mouth slightly agape.
“Y-Yes, Loid?”
“I - Since, since this is your first time, I want to promise you something.” He reaches for her hand, before stopping his fingertips just from making contact with her knuckles, and instead opting to hold her wrist. “I want to promise you that I’ll make this - well, as comfortable for you, as possible. Okay? I’ll do my best for us to…” - he clears his throat, wrinkling his nose - “...for us to get this over with quickly, easily, painlessly. Is - Is that okay, with you?”
She blinks rapidly at first, as if surprised by the content of his words. And then, her expression droops into something a bit more… dismayed? Disappointed? He doesn’t know why, but it sticks a pinprick right at the edge of his heart. Why is he getting so emotional right now? The silence between them hangs awkwardly, and with every passing second he can feel his sanity eroding away, little by little.
“I…” She murmurs, so softly that he nearly doesn’t hear her, running her teeth over her lips. “Loid-...”
“I have to ask that you trust me on this. I understand if it’s too much to ask but…”
“No, Loid, listen to me.” There’s a tiny, bubble-thin surface of urgency tinted across her tone. “I- Can I - Can I ask you, for something?”
There’s a pause as Loid’s eyebrows knit together ever so slightly, his lips tightening together.
“... what would that be?” he asks quietly.
She takes in a deep breath, and even holding her wrist, he can feel her entire arm quivering. It’s an understandable reaction, of course - but then, suddenly, she tugs her hand away, releasing her wrist from his grasp.
And then, with twitching fingers, she places her hand right above his. She closes her grip above his knuckles, rubbing her palm against the back of his hand.
“Can… Can we pretend? To be - to be, well. Lov-... Lovers? Just for today?”
The word “lovers” strikes him like a wrecking ball. He can merely stare at her, completely dumbfounded, his heart now starting to thump against his ribcage audibly. A million words swim around his head, his brain going into overdrive trying to string together something to say. Anything at all, that wouldn’t make him out to be a complete idiot. All to little or no avail.
“I- I mean!” she exclaims, now trying to correct herself. “I mean. You- You promised me, right? For this to be… to be-”
“To be comfortable,” he repeats, his voice so low that the words nearly don’t make it out of his mouth. “As comfortable as possible. For you.”
“Then, I- I think it’d at least feel less, well, awkward,” she continues, inching closer towards him, his heart pounding even harder now. “At least, less awkward if - you know. We were to pretend. For tonight. That we’re actually married. Does - does that make sense?”
Loid tightens the hand not held by her into a fist again, so tightly that his hand shakes with the effort. Of course… of course, she is right. Just comparing the two situations of her, engaging in such an intimate act with someone she actually loved with all her heart, versus the Loid right in front of her now - it’s obvious which choice she’d make.
He takes a look at the clock. 11.20pm. No, he has to make the decision right now. There’s no time for him to think about it, or even psyche himself out once agreed upon. There’s no other option for him but to turn back to her, put on as determined a facade as he can.
And tell her -
“Yes,” he says. “That - that makes sense, yes.”
“Okay.” She takes a deep breath.
“I - okay.”
“Then can we - can we start, from now?”
He’s sure that by now his face - nay, his entire body, must be a bright red by now, heated by the overwhelming, looming prospect of what’s going to happen now. Holy shit, Twilight, he thinks to himself. This is going too fast. One moment he already says yes to doing this, and now he says yes to doing this as if she’s his actual wife. Like he’s as deep in love with her as he’s always denied himself to be.
…wait, what?
No, no, no. He shakes his head vigorously, as if to rid himself of whatever demons were clinging onto him. Now’s not the time. His whole family depends on this. Anya, Bond… Yor, above all. And if Yor wants him to do this…
He exhales out his mouth, swallowing his saliva and gazes into her eyes. God, he’d always known that Yor was - is - a really pretty woman. But rarely had he ever taken the opportunity to just, look her straight in the eyes, almost as if to get lost in them. And the more he wandered straight into that open space, the more he cannot help but feel so enthralled that he starts to think, starts to know, just how beautiful she is.
“L-...Loid?”
“Okay,” he says. “We - We can start. Now.”
“Then…”
She shifts even closer to him, and instinctively, he mirrors her actions. He lifts his hand slightly, rotating in place before clasping hers this time, letting their fingers interlace with one another’s, the warmth of her palm against his. He can feel his face twitch, the moment that they get so close that their shoulders rub against each other’s. How can she remain so calm?? Wasn’t he supposed to be the spy, the one that put on a mask for any emotion he conjures of, here?
“Loid…” Her words come out in husky voice. “I-... I love you.”
The way she says those words is so genuine that it almost makes him break character. The muscles in his torso harden, and for a moment he thinks a hiccup just escapes his throat. He recovers quickly, nodding, the corners of his mouth curling upwards a little more north than he wants. Of course, he’s told this to several other women before. Completely rehearsed lines that fall out of his mouth, as hollow as organ pipes.
But when he recites them to Yor this time -
“I love you too. Yor.”
- he serves a previously concealed piece of his heart to her.
One moment, they’re sitting shoulder to shoulder. The next, they’re facing each other now, bodies getting closer. His free hand snakes around her waist, her own free hand reaching up to rest against his jawline. His neck stiffens, his gaze unwavering from her, as is hers from him.
And then they meet, chest to chest. His breath gets heavier and heavier.
Forehead to forehead…
Nose to nose.
“Oops,” she mutters, suddenly springing a smile and giggling softly. It’s music to his ears - as always. “Sorry, Loid!”
Somehow he has to thank the lucky stars for this moment. It's as if a brick has lifted off his shoulder, the happiness contagious as he too lets out a small chuckle.
“No, no, I messed this up too,” he tells her frankly. How could he - Agent Twilight of Westalis - mess up this first kiss, like he’s some pre-pubescent kid? At least she looks more at ease when she’s laughing like this. “Here, let me just-”
He tilts his head at an angle, a ghost of his earlier smile still on his face.
They get closer, their noses not colliding this time.
And just like that, his lips meet hers.
It happens so fast, it’s like a switch immediately flips within him.
When he dares to move his lips against hers, he closes his eyes. He loses himself to the touch, to the taste of her lips, even by just a bit. Truth to be told, she’s not a very good kisser - not that he expects her to be, of course. But in no time at all, she makes up for her inexperience with eagerness. She lets out a long, languid moan against him, when he kisses her a bit more firmly, her hands reaching to grab the back of his head. He lets out a muffled exclamation of surprise, but meets her energy easily, matching the hungry movements of her lips. The scent of her perfume is enough to make his heart race a little more. For embers of desire to ignite within him a little hotter.
It takes a minute or so for part of his mind to snap back into place - a reminder of the mission at hand here. This is all for Yor’s sake, after all - for her to get into the mood.
“Lay back, Yor,” he commands quietly into her ear after pulling away. She smiles meekly, before wordlessly obeying, lying face up on the bed.
He wonders if it’s some logical instinct for him to get it over with quickly, or if it’s his desire taking over a few of his reins. But he can tell his hands are undoing the string tying her robe together a bit too feverishly. It’s not until he pulls apart the hem by the middle, opening her robe up like a book, that he pauses. Time seems to stand still.
Of course, he’s slept with his fair share of gorgeous women in the past. Mostly socialites who had the money to artificially boost their beauty to the point of approaching the uncanny valley. But now, his eyes are practically glued to her, taking in every feature of her and ravishing the sight. Her modest, slender, curved figure. The almost impossibly smoothness and whiteness of her skin. The faint definition of her abdominal muscles… The - the swell of her perfectly sized breasts…
He shakes his head, trying to reset his mindset again. Her face is completely flushed crimson, her eyes wide in astonishment, her mouth twisted in a crooked, sheepish line.
“Ah- I’m sorry,” he says, internally cursing himself for getting so ahead of himself. “You - are you okay, Yor?”
“I-I-I-I’m fine!” she answers, shaking her head furiously. “I-I was just s-surprised! But I- I know, this is necessary.”
“I see,” he mutters. “Shall I remove this?”
“Yes. P-Please.”
She helps him completely disrobe her, before he tosses the woolly piece across the room. He takes a deep breath as he lowers his head, trying not to scowl with the immense amount of focus and restraint he’s channeling right now. He wonders whether or not the usual, sensitive spots that he’s known other women to have are the same for her. And for once, he’s actually scared for if the answer is no.
He starts by dotting her jawline with light pecks, occasionally sucking a little before releasing. He's rewarded with lusty sighs escaping from her lips. He slowly makes his way down, one hand tracing circles around her waist, and another reaching straight for her bosom.
“L-Loid!”
He opens one eye, content to see her face completely enveloped in fluster, her body underneath him quivering with every massage that he gave to one of her breasts. The way the flesh nearly spills out of his hand. How supple it feels. How her pitch and volume spike and creak when a finger traces around her areola. Lord Almighty, he can’t help but worry even now, if he’s forming a deadly addiction to this.
“Does - Does it feel good, Yor?”
She nods fervently, humming in pleasure, her body tensed into stone. He progresses further now, his lips travelling down her neck, his tongue lightly grazing across her collarbone. He earns the prickling of goosebumps along her skin, only but a mere precursor for what is to come when he shifts his body lower - his mouth leaving a wet saliva trail across her sternum, and his hand moving down towards-
“Loid!!”
He looks up at her, whose eyes have fluttered open, her head propping up in startle.
“Do you want me to keep going?”
“Yes!” The word drops out of her mouth so quickly, that somehow, she’s taken even further aback by it than he is. “I- I mean, uh! Yes, please, Loid - do, um, do what you need to.”
He nods reverently, and begins. A finger traces right along her swollen cunt, already damp with the foreplay from earlier, and right there, he starts to get all the reactions he needs. The moment his fingertip penetrates her and he feels her slippery, fleshy insides, incomprehensible words burst from her mouth, her body writhing restlessly. As he traces even the most feathery-light circles right around her nipple, he feels her back arch. Hears the ruffle of the bed sheets and pillow being grabbed onto. Feels her fingers dig - and dig hard - into his scalp.
“You don’t have to hold back, Yor,” Loid tells her, his mouth leaving her breast with a wet pop.
“I- n-ngh,... ah, ahHH! L-Loid, my-”
“Let me hear your voice,” he says, with a loving, reassuring smile. “Please.”
He takes another step forward, reaching this time for her clit, and her reaction is immediate. This time she howls so loud that it almost makes his eardrums throb. Knowingly or unknowingly, he starts to pick up the tempo. Presses his fingers a little more against her nub - tries to block out just how absolutely divine it feels inside of her, God! His tongue now practically laps right at her breast, sucking even harder now…
“L-Loid, wh-, I feel so strange…”
He breathes against her, and when she keens, as sharp as needles, he wonders if the satisfaction he feels is truly only attributed to simply making her comfortable, or to something more selfish. Either way, it takes every iota of effort not to lose himself to the crescendo of ferity building within him, focusing solely on stimulating her nub. His body gets warmer and warmer, hearing his name on her lips like a desperate prayer. Her walls spasm, and contract, with the insistent force of his deft fingers, until, until-!
“I-I feel- !!!! Loid!!”
“Come for me, Yor.” He reaches up to her ear to whisper huskily in it. Right on cue, a shattered breath spills from her lips, and she falls apart in his grasp. Warm liquid spurts forth from her as her climax hits her like an earthquake. Loid can’t resist it - his eyes wander across her beautiful body, the tension that had built within her now unspooling like a spring. He knows his face is completely red, despite himself. Why is this so sexy to him, when he’s had other women like this under him before? Surely… surely it cannot be that it’s Yor, the woman that had been living under his roof for so long. Or at least, it can’t be all because of that… can it?
When she meets the beginning of the end, her chest heaving hard, she reaches her arms out for him limply, inviting him into her.
“L-Loid…”
There’s something so different about the way she says his name now. Goddamn if she isn’t a great actress, for how desirous, how absolutely depraved in dark lust her words and her actions are. He grits his teeth together so hard that he swears he can taste the remnant of enamel when he obliges, moving to kiss her once more. Her lips are so puffy, and yet so soft, that he cannot help but let his mind wander again into that open space. The taste of her. The feeling of her tongue clumsily prodding against his. The slickness of her saliva - it’s all so fucking overwhelming.
Before he can protest, he feels his bathrobe being shed off of his body. He angles his body so that she can ravenously tear it off before hurling it across the room, nearly knocking down a lamp. Of course, he knows that, as the finest spy in Westalis, his physique is better than average, to say the least. And yet, he sees her, eyes widened and directed forward at his bare torso, saliva pooling at the corners of her lips. To his surprise, he… the emotion that strikes him first is much less of embarrassment than it is of flattery.
But then of course, her eyes travel downwards, the drool now sliding down her lips - and that's when the fluster kicks in immediately. He jolts into position, sitting upright in between her legs, a stern, yet visibly worn out facade plastered across his face.
“I’m sorry, Yor,” he says, his bottom lip quivering. “It’s time now.”
“Oh! Oh. Okay.” Her posture visibly shrinks into herself, her breaths now slow but heavy.
“You’ve been taking your birth control pills, right?”
She nods. “Of course,” she tells him frankly. Well, at least there was another form of protection, he tells himself in relief. These people who set them up really must’ve known what they were doing, that he had no choice but to do this without… without a condom.
Of course, no sane man on this earth could be in his spot and not be sporting the stiffest, most raging boner he’s ever had. Not the least due to just, well, Yor being Yor, on top of everything else. But even when he aligns the crown of his cock right at her entrance, now completely sopping wet, he cannot help but take a large gulp, his heart feeling like it’s aflame.
When he looks at Yor, he wonders to whom his attempt at pacification is meant for - her, or him. Or both. He takes his time at first, to rock his hips back and forth, sliding his shaft right between her labia, coating himself with her juices. His eyes narrow and his teeth grit together when the tip of him brushes against her clit. And there it is again, another erotic gasp leaving her lips, her hands reaching for the bedsheets.
“Yor,” he breathes, still gliding across her cunt. The fire that has taken root in his chest flares every time a bit of his cock makes contact with the insides of her folds. “I- I’m-... please, you h-have to tell me if it h-hurts, o- ah, okay?”
“Of course,” she croons, her eyes moist. “I trust you, Loid. I-, I love you, I love you!”
He puffs his chest, an animalistic, lascivious snarl forming across his lips with yet more of his inhibitions shattering. And for that moment on, he doesn’t care if she’s acting. He makes the decision to take her at face value.
“Yor, I - I love you too!”
To believe her lies that she returned the love he’d always held for her.
And then, in one smooth motion, he slips right into her.
It takes every ounce of effort for him not to shriek as loud as she does, when the sensation of being swallowed by her warmth engulfshim faster, more thoroughly than he’d anticipated. He can’t tell if he’s more sensitive than usual or she truly feels this - this fucking good. But now, the fire feels like it’s spread to every inch of his body. He puts his hands just below her waist, removing himself ever so gently and deliberately. But the moment he does, his hips snap back forward, filling her again and eliciting another yelp of pleasure from her.
“L-Loid, you’re so - ah, big!!”
“Ah, Yor!” he keens between his teeth. His fingers claw at her body, his toes curling as he maintains a gradual, languid pace, her insides convulsing around him frantically.
He has to remember to breathe. Remember to keep his expression in check, remember to keep his rhythm steady. But he can sense he's sweating, just the tiniest bit. What with how she rocks her hips against him, even in this position. The flesh of her breasts rocking back and forth gently. How snugly her walls massage around him.
“Yor, how does it feel? Good?”
“It feel shoooo amazing, Loid, ah, Loid…!” Her speech is slurred near the point of drunkenness. Her eyes roll back, her gyrations starting to become more forceful.
“Ah, Yor, it feels good for me too,” he groans breathily, his eyes closing to mere slits.
“Loid! Loid!! Ah, I- You’re so handsome, have I ever told you that? Ah, ah!!”
No she hadn’t - but to hear her say that now, it might be the most heavenly thing she’s ever said to him. He wonders briefly just how much he wants to give himself away in the effort to make her feel better - but only briefly.
“Yor, you- you’re beautiful too, you, ungh, you know? I’ve - ah, I’ve always wanted to do this… mmm, this with you…”
He can’t see it, with his focus on not letting his speech or movements betray just how completely ravaged by dark lust he is. But in the midst of him making love to her, as relaxed as he can take it, he feels her shift dramatically. And before he can react, he’s shoved roughly down to the bed on his back.
His eyes flutter open in shock to see her hover over him, now sitting right on his cock. A shock that only deepens into near terror, when he registers just how her expression depicts almost manifold of the lust that swirls around him.
“Y-Yor??”
“I’m sorry, Loid, I-... I - I- FUCK!”
She starts to ride him, her hips slapping against his in unholy, unwieldy smacks. The way and the intensity of which it registers, he can't help but let every vulgarity in his vocabulary pour from his mouth, his mind at war with itself as she fucks him - and fucks him like her goddamn life depends on it. His body admits how useless that feat is before his mind does. His hips jut upwards against his will, victim to her completely wild, dominant, brutal tempo. She moans, and shrieks, increasingly louder, increasingly more lewd, and God does he want to do the same.
“Y-Yor, ah, please! S-slow down, you- ah, ah!”
“Loid, oh Loid!!” Her voice is nearly blaring now, her face completely wild in eroticism, her ass continuing to smack against his body frenetically. Loid can barely open his eyes, biting his lips nearly to the point of drawing blood, his body rocked with how tightly and aggressively her insides clench around him. He throws his head back, grunting between tightly clenched teeth. How is this even possible? That years and years of training couldn’t prepare him for these waves of unadulterated, erotic pleasure?
He can barely see Yor - but the sight is enough for all the tension and fire to pool uncontrollably around his thighs. Her slim, perfect figure bouncing on his dick so clumsily yet eagerly. Her beasts jiggling every time she rides him. Her face completely taken by sheer delirium.
He can feel his composure all but liquidate, his restraints snapping quickly, way too quickly. It really is her - and only her - that makes him feel this way, isn’t it?
“Yor, Yor, you feel so good, I-...”
“Oh, Loid, Loid!”
She bends down, taking his face in her hands and colliding their lips together in another explosion of passion. As if it hadn’t taken him all his focus and energy to fuck her, he loses every last reason or motivation at all to keep his restraints up. With the flick of her tongue against his, with every time he hammers himself into her like rabbits in heat, the more his facade just withers away into wisps. His words, too, become confessional - such as:
“Yor, I-, I love you, Yor, I - I’m so happy!!” he screams between desperate grunts, his voice as rough as sandpaper.
“Me too, Loid! I love you too, ah -ah, fuck! FUCK!!” He doesn’t have the energy to take her word at anything other than face value. Their frenzied pace starts to become even faster, even more erratic. Her walls massaging around his throbbing cock harder, faster. The fire within him emerging to the surface, an imminent volcano eruption. His body tending into stone. His hands reaching to grab her soft, plump ass -
It's the final straw.
He lets out a final, earth-shattering yell:
“Yor, I’m - I’m com-ING!!!”
“LOID!!!!”
When he meets his release, it’s like his entire world transcends into a completely different, supernatural dimension - in the heights of heaven yet with all the heat of the fires of hell. Strangled, hoarse, indiscernible noises leave their lips, as he pumps load after load into her, before she too becomes undone. Tremors course through her body and her pussy tightens even further, milking every last drop of his seed as she rides out her own climax.
He barely feels her white-hot, scorching body collapse on top before rolling off of him. Their chests visibly inflate and deflate, with the deep breaths they're taking to recuperate dear, dear oxygen. The exhaustion strikes him right across the face, like the abrupt swing of a baseball bat.
DING!
It’s the same bell from when he’d shouted at the camera earlier, except clearer this time. It’s followed by a metallic click, like gears being turned against each other. Loid takes a look at the bedside clock, and breathes a sigh of relief to see 11:45 on the clock - they’d made it. It’s funny now, how his mind now registers the stakes at hand, how this whole time they’d been on the verge of being blasted into ash. And yet here they are now, skin drenched to the bone with sweat, still basking in the sweet, sweet afterglow of sex.
Tha'ts right, the fates of Anya and Bond are still completely up in the air. He braces himself to leave, and braces himself to prompt Yor up as well-
But when he turns around to speak, she silences him with a kiss.
He knows he should break it right now, their deed having been done. And he wonders, too, if she carries that knowledge when she kisses him like this. But damn it all, just to taste her saliva in those initial fleeting moments - it makes his mind melt again. And for a moment, he reciprocates, her lips dancing with his in a slow, loving waltz. It’s like the more he kisses her, the more addicted he can feel himself getting to her taste and touch. Things that he knows, to his utter dismay, he’ll never experience again.
It’s not until a few seconds later that his sense of reason finally kicks in, and he forcefully breaks their kiss, shaking his head vehemently to her initial stymie.
“Ah - ah, Yor,” he mutters in a gallop. “You - hmm. We - we can stop pretending. It’s over.”
“O-oh!” Her face turns an even deeper shade of red, and her eyes flit away from him. The way she acts now is such a far cry away from the version of her that had fucked him into oblivion just minutes ago. “R-right, sorry.”
He clears his throat in an awkward attempt to clear any lingering awkwardness. “It’s - it’s okay. I think we’re fine. I mean, we - we completed the task. Shall we gather our clothes? Get out of here before they - um. Activate the mines?”
She tilts her head to see the clock, before quickly turning to him. There’s a palpable beat where she simply stares at him, as if she’s mystified by something she’s never seen in him, her ruby red eyes completely starstruck. She chews the inside of her cheek in contemplation, before whispering to him:
“Loid. Um. I want - want to stay like this. As-... pretending to be lovers. 10 minutes! I mean, we have 10 minutes, if you - well, if you want to of course, we can maybe stay…”
Immediately, he’s reminded of his secondary task, of making sure that she’s as comfortable as possible. Perhaps he still has 10 more glorious, blessed minutes to continue on that mission. And so he chuckles, putting a pacifying hand on the top of her head, and pulls her in closer.
“Alright,” he says assuringly, embracing her gently. “We can pretend for 10 more minutes.”
When she smiles, it captivates his attention wholly.“Thank you, Loid.”
He knows that perhaps it’d be best for them to get dressed, to see her when she's decent again. But with the way she snuggles close to him, and with the dull throb of exhaustion still ringing across every fibre of his being, he resorts to laying still. His arms unwittingly slink around her, and he basks in the afterglow next to her with a blissful smile on his face.
God, if he could be selfish, he’d pump his fist in the air, with the knowledge that this was absolutely worth it. If he could only indulge his deepest fantasies - fantasies that, as a man, he couldn’t help but have, with every day he’d spent with Yor under the same roof. If he could only continue kissing her - like they were lovers, her bare body against his - fucking her, even coming insi-
“What’s wrong, Loid?”
“I can’t believe it. I didn’t pull out.” His eyes fly open in panic, and he resists the urge to palm himself in the face. How could he make such a simple, yet completely fatal error? What was he thinking? What if - ... it's a thought even he can't finish.
“You- Yor. I’m sorry, I simply lost control, and now-”
“Loid,” she interrupts. “It’s okay. Pill, remember?”
“Still,” he groans. “There’s always that small chance… I really should be more careful, especially when it’s your first time and-”
“Shhh.” She silences him with a finger, a reassuring smile curling across her lips. “It’s okay. I-... You know, Loid? Pretending aside. It felt -... I don’t think I’ve ever felt that good - this good - in my life.”
He swears he feels his heart skip a beat. “R-Really?”
“Of course.” She closes her eyes in satisfaction, turning back to nestle by the side of his torso, against the flesh of his pectoral muscle. “I’m glad, too. That if there was anyone I’d do it with… that it was you.”
He freezes in place, momentarily lost for words, as she continues to speak. “I just hope that it was good for you, too.”
“Of course it was,” he answers, the readiness of his words completely betraying his inner psyche. “I- of course, what are you talking about? It-... it was beyond amazing. I’m not pretending, either. And I- I’m really, really happy as well. That it was you, too.”
When he sees her expression glimmer in happiness, it’s another imprint of a treasured image. At least this is an image he knows he gets to see again. Damn if he won't try to evoke it as hard as he can.
“Really? I’m so glad, Loid. I’m really glad…”
For the next few minutes, with his hand absentmindedly wandering around her side, a bittersweet feeling settles within him. How will they ever get back to being fake husband and wife, ever again? Now that he’s gotten a taste of his forbidden fruit, his personal drug - would it even be possible to break this newfound addiction? It would take all of his restraint, exerting effort every single day, just to go back to the things once were, and to pretend this never happened.
“Loid, I think it’s almost time,” he hears her say, as she starts to sit up, rubbing her eyes groggily. “We should leave - Anya and Bond, we have to make sure they’re okay, right?”
It takes a few seconds, without her warmth, as she starts to leave the bed, for him to know exactly what his heart wants. And he realizes instantly, that his mind - no matter how many years of spy training he’s had - cannot possibly be kept in a cage forever.
“Yor!”
He surprises even himself with how fast and eager his knee-jerk reaction is. He sits up in a powerful jerk, as his strong arms pull her into an embrace, closer against his bare chest. Her head whirls around, and she stares in wonder and surprise up at him.
“Y-Yes, Loid?”
He knows when he says these words, he’s opening himself for his weak spot to be attacked, over and over and over again. But when he’s this completely worked up? When he can’t help but trust her, just as much as she trusts him?
“If… If you ever want to pretend again. To be lovers. I - …”
He can’t resist.
“... please, do let me know. I would be more than happy to oblige.”
He wonders if he’s revealed too much to her. Her cheeks become pink, her mouth dropping slightly agape as she processes every word he’s just spoken. For a brief moment, he thinks he’s taken whatever complicated, tangled rope of a mess that is their relationship, and tossed it straight into a burning furnace. It’s a thought that makes him more distraught than it should.
But then she beams at him, with the same, radiant glow of a smile, that it makes him think that even if he’s failed at being Twilight for her -
“Y-Yes, Loid. I’d be happy to - to pretend again. Maybe some time soon.”
At least, he can succeed at being Loid Forger. Her husband.
And for the first time, he couldn’t care less.
(Epilogue)
