Chapter Text
It was inevitable, he knew, that when they began they would never be able to stop. It was foolish of him to think just once when he slid his lips against hers for the first time. Foolish to think just once as he sank his body into hers for the first time. It was addicting instantly, unstoppable and impossible. Impossible to describe, impossible to turn away from. Now they are here, months later, in a not quite-real-relationship-marriage, and Twilight, Westalis' greatest spy is happy. He's a broken person, and he had convinced himself long ago that these things were beyond his reach. And that it was okay, he made that choice with a clear and confident mind. For the sake of a better world, where children don't cry. But this home and this family have irrevocably changed him.
For the first time, he wanted. It's a wonderful thing, to come home to her, parent with her, walk to the park with her, to hold her in his arms at night. To have someone to talk to, laugh with, share every day with, whisper to in the early hours of the morning when he can't sleep. He held out a broken, blackened heart in pieces, and her hands took it from him and nurtured it and kept it safe. It's real, as real as this relationship could be, and he was cherishing every moment, filing it away in his expansive mind to pull out and remember years later, after he leaves, when he is cold and alone once again.
He scoff's at that. What a joke. What a dumb fool. He wants this. He had always wanted this. And now it's his and he doesn't want to let go.
****
It was a Friday night, the end of a long week for the Forger family, and he had indulged Anya too much this evening. It was hard not to, she had earned another stella, she was working hard, and when she bound into the apartment after school, throwing her book bag on the ground and jumping to her dog shouting "Weekend! Freedom!" he repressed the urge to laugh.
He cooked a good dinner, his wife's favorite, and indulged in a bottle of red wine with her. As Yor and Anya talked to him about their day, he watched as Yor laughed and sipped her wine, her full lips closing around the rim of the glass, the delicate column of her throat as she swallowed.
Loid knew what he wanted tonight. He wanted to drag his tongue across that throat, swallow her laughs in his mouth as he teased his fingers across the left side of her stomach where she was most sensitive, watch those red wine stained lips sigh and pant his name as he pounded into her. Loid wanted that every night.
The problem with this night however, was their daughter. After dinner, she asked for a big bowl of peanut butter ice cream, her adorable green eyes wide and pleading. Before he could say no, Yor giggled and said "that does sound yummy," getting up to grab the bowls.
He sighed, glancing at the clock. The girl would get a sugar rush and it was only 30 minutes until her bedtime routine was supposed to start. It would be a long night. He gathered up more dishes to get started on washing, following Yor into the kitchen.
Loid watched her as she scooped way too large scoops of ice cream into a bowl for Anya. It was a warm summer evening, she had changed after work into a large, thin cotton shirt and a pair of shorts that hugged her perfect ass. Her hair pulled up in a high ponytail. Such a simple, domestic outfit and his brain was short-circuiting. Sweet, naive Yor probably didn't even know she was seducing him, but goddamn she was, those perfect curves, firm, strong legs, soft, full thighs.
Loid came up behind her and pressed a kiss to the bend of her neck. He then stepped back, innocent, and watched her neck and the tips of her ears turn a pretty red, proud of himself for eliciting such a reaction.
Yor turned to him shyly, "Loid, could you make me a cocktail? It's Friday night after all."
"Sure," he replied easily. "How about a whiskey sour?"
She raised her eyebrows and laughed, "Oh dear, are you trying to get me drunk that fast?"
He grinned at her and went back to her neck.
"Maybe. And maybe I'll join you," he murmured into her skin.
Before they could do or say much more, Anya shouted from the living room, "Mama! Papa! Quit flirting! Anya wants ice cream and Anya wants to play!"
***
The next time he looked at the clock it was two hours later. Anya had her ice cream and was huffing with energy like a marshmallow pink hurricane around the living room. Yor had half her whiskey sour and combined with her wine from dinner, was completely drunk. Loid finished hers, the bottle of wine, and had four cocktails of his own, feeling the fuzzy edges of tipsiness.
These two hours, Anya wanted to play Spy Wars, forcing Loid to bring out his Loidman character and Yor, her witch. The family ran around with toy guns and other weaponry, Loid and Anya versus Yor and Bond. He taught Anya how to round the corners and scan for enemies in each room as they played. She was absolutely delighted and seemed to be having so much fun, it made him warmer and fuzzier than the booze.
The family had their final shootout in the living room, Bond collapsing in a huff dramatically when Anya shot him. Yor... did not go down as easy. She growled from her chest, a noise that made Loid seize up, and tackled him to the ground, wrapping her legs around his waist.
"Yor! The neighbors downstairs-" he cried, embarrassed that he was caught so off guard and at the way his blood boiled and his chest pounded as her body pressed against his.
"You'll never win this one Loidman," Yor slurred, her beautiful red face hovering over him as she pinned him down.
He could not move a muscle, her strength unyielding. Damn.. when she played pretend, she really gave it her all. And Loid had quickly discovered being with Yor, that her overpowering him like this was one of his biggest turn-ons, even if they were playing with their daughter.
Speaking of which, the hurricane of a girl stopped all his trailing thoughts as she squealed at her parents, her green eyes huge from the sugar rush. She jumped on top of Yor, making a Forger pile, and Loid groaned at the added weight, made worse when Bond joined.
Yor and Anya laughed and laughed, mother now tickling daughter as she rolled around the floor.
"This is the best night ever!" Anya screamed.
"Again, the neighbors," Loid replied with a defeated sigh.
"Oh! I know!" Anya shouted, her eyes growing even wider somehow. "We should play hide and seek!"
"Oh! I know! We should brush our teeth and get ready for-"
"Hide and sheek sounds like sho much fun!" drunk Yor screeched and Loid sighed, thwarted again.
"Okay! Anya hides first. Papa, Mama, count to twenty- no thirty!" Anya skipped away excitedly as Yor began to count in an exaggerated fashion.
"Oneee, twooooo, threeeeeee,” her lips formed the words and Loid watched, blushing, tipsy.
"Yor, it's past her bedtime, she's never going to sleep at this rate," Loid whispered to her.
Her glazed eyes struggled to focus on him, and realization dawned on her flushed face.
"Ooooh my goodnessh you're right. Look at the time! I'm sho shorry Loid, I got carried away. I was having sho much fun," Yor whispered back with a pout.
Loid smiled at her as her face fell. He was completely smitten, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He couldn't indulge much more than that, not yet. Anya was hiding poorly behind him, crouched behind the tiny corner table in the hall, giggling like she was invisible. But he allowed himself another second to admire this marvel of a woman, drunk on a Friday night, not at a bar, but with him and a six-year-old girl, in this small apartment, playing make believe like it's the most exciting thing in the world to do.
"It's alright," Loid soothed, tracing her ear with his finger, "but she does need to sleep soon. I just don't know how we will accomplish that. She's so riled up."
Yor smiled, her eyes hazy again. She began counting aloud again, starting with 22.
"Twenttyyyy-twoooooo…Don't worry darling. I have an idea. Let'sh indulge her for a fews rounds." Yor got up and went to find their daughter.
Turns out Yor's plan involved the undeniable fact that hide and seek in a small apartment with two drunk yet incredibly hyper-aware parents was super boring for a first grader. And somehow, Anya was just as good as them, finding Yor and Loid instantly after she stopped counting, flinging open the curtain drapes, or popping over the couch with a flourish. Why she even wanted to play when it was so easy, he didn't know. And he took pride in his ability to hide, so it’s not like this was a ton of fun for him either. But in the end, after just a few more rounds, Anya yawned with her full body. She insisted on continuing when Loid brought up her sleepiness, even though she was dead on her feet.
"Anya’s having so much fun. I never want this night to end!" Anya said around a yawn, and Loid's heart melted. He was a little frustrated over dealing with a sugared up daughter, when what he really wanted two hours ago was to climb on top of his wife in bed, but now he finds himself nothing but happy that he helped make her night so fun. Yor's too, just in a different way than he imagined.
"Okays, Anya, one more round. I already have a great hiding shpot,”Yor slurred, her fists balled up excitedly.
She had Anya lay in her bed and do her counting while they hid since the first round, and she did so now, with much less enthusiasm and a big loud yawn. Loid grinned. Yor grabbed his arm with a giggle and tripped over her feet as she rushed him into her own room and into her closet, cracking the door so she could peek out. Despite her state, her movements were sharp, hurried, and forceful, and he had no choice but to comply as they giggled and she shushed him and shoved him into the walls and finally, to the ground, mounting his body and hovering over him.
"I told you I knews what to do," she said in a tipsy whisper, "thish happened all the time when I played hide and sheek with Yuri. He would get bored and stop sheeking me. Even when I was stills hiding! I'd come out of my shpot a while later to him readings a book instead."
Loid chuckled at the image of a young Yor huffing at her little brother after hiding in a closet like this for too long. He listened as Anya's counting got slower and quieter, her voice muffled by her pillow. The numbers trailed off, the closet was dark and quiet, save for their harsh, scattered breathing from the excitement of goofing around. The light seeping through the crack that Yor peered through. Seconds ticked by, maybe minutes, it was now completely quiet in their apartment, the night frozen, and Yor shot him a smug look of victory. Their daughter was drifting off in a sugar crash.
All those thoughts from before rushed back to him, as he realized the situation, as Yor kept giggling, her warm body poised above his, a hand on his shoulder, her firm thighs trapping him, close but not close enough.
Because in this position, his tall body was crammed on the floor of the small closet, his legs bent, his head propped awkwardly against the door. He'd get a crick in his neck. Maybe cramps in his legs. But it didn't matter, not at all. Because in this position, as Yor quietly shut the closet door, preoccupied on listening for sounds of Anya, she was straddling him, her thighs around his hips, and he was honed in on her perfect, perk breasts, swaying right above his face underneath her soft shirt. And she wasn't wearing a bra. And he wasn't breathing anymore. He could see the outline of her pretty nipples, even in the dark of the closet.
He thanked a god he didn't believe in, as his cock shifted in his pants. Her smell was all around him, in her clothes hanging above them, in the air between their bodies. He inhaled her scent, vanilla and roses mixed with sweat from exertion and liquor. Perfect. As he exhaled, he did so purposefully, hard, on her right nipple suspended just over his mouth. If the liquor from before had not gotten him drunk enough, he certainly was now, drunk off her, her smell in this oppressively small space, her delightful body floating over his.
Yor gave a startled sigh, a gasped-oh- as she felt his breath against her nipple, and at that sound, his thoughts flew out through the crack in the floor of the closet door, he was left just a man feeling his wife. Enamored.
This always happened with Yor. With Yor, for the first time in his life, he couldn't string thoughts together, couldn't navigate the labyrinth of his own mind. At their first kiss, it frightened him, startled him. Loid had jerked back from her panting, delicious mouth, trying to refocus, pull himself together. He had never felt like that. Ever. In his whole life. And he could feel the weakness of it and he wouldn't allow it, it was just once. It was an indulgence he allowed himself for a moment because he was tired and pathetic, but it had to end. He can’t just not think. And yet.. and yet. They had watched each other breathless, he could feel the charged, electric air between them. The dizzying chemistry, the air full of anticipation. And Yor, who was always braver than him, Yor, who always knew just what to say and just what to do to make him better, had a look of understanding and determination fall across her face. She had pulled him back by the neck, and he was a helpless, thoughtless fool, taking her mouth again and again and again.
And it was that way now, here in this closet. The only concept he could put together was to make her feel good, to seek out the pleasure her body promised, calling to him. He was dying to touch her, but he wouldn't, not yet. He was going to draw this out. Make sure their daughter was fast asleep before he could pull the real sounds from her mouth.
Loid kept his hands balled into fists at his sides as he lay there under her, breathing heavily on her nipple through her shirt. Yor shifted, and it was there, between his open mouth.
He didn't seal it closed right away, he kept breathing, his heavy breaths making her fluttering body above his tremble. Loid grinned against that glorious nub as it hardened, just from his hot, wet breathing. It could cut an eye out, that stiff, rigid nipple of hers. Yor was a fantasy come to life. She may have been inexperienced when they began this love affair, but she made up for it with unbridled enthusiasm that spurred him along, and he spent their time together memorizing every intricacy of her form, including her beautiful breasts and pretty pink nipples. He could feel her growing, needy anticipation for his mouth.
Loid finally claimed her with his teeth, a bite through her cotton shirt, and she gasped and arched her back, her hand stuttering over his shoulder, the other finding purchase in his hair. As he bit hard, he slipped his palms under her shirt, gliding his hands around her smooth stomach. Finally.
Loid felt the warm, supple skin, he traced her ribs, counted the bones in her spine, he slid his fingers across the puckered edges of a scar. All through this, Yor sighed and hummed in appreciation, but she still didn't move her body an inch. She floated in the air above him, a hand lightly carding through his hair.
Minutes passed as he caressed and bit her body. Something about finally touching her skin and claiming her nipple in his mouth flipped a switch in Loid. He wanted her hips against his hips now. He would die otherwise. He wanted Yor writhing and moaning and moving her body against his, he wanted her to use him for her own pleasure and he wanted her to draw out that pleasure in him. She was the only one who could.
"Yor," he breathed heavily against her pebbled nipple. A hand under her shirt moved to her other breast, cupping the fullness, pinching the other hard, peaked nipple between his ring and middle fingers. He clawed at it, pinched it, twisted it, desperate now, trying to scratch her breast until it left a mark, and she sighed his name and it was everything, but Yor still wouldn't move.
Loid growled her named roughly again. Yor shuddered, then giggled, drunk, maybe drunk on him. He moved his other hand to that shapely ass that had been haunting him all evening. He slid underneath her small little shorts, his palm found a bare butt cheek and he growled again at the discovery of no underwear underneath. Jesus. How could Yor skip around the apartment like this and expect him to keep his hands to himself?
Loid palmed her ass and then went over and down, to her core. It was hot, stifling, claustrophobic in her closet now, their breathing ragged. He was lightheaded and absolutely intoxicated as he gently and slowly slid his fingers along her soaking wet, hot folds. They both inhaled deeply. She was drenched. She was flawless. His neck ached almost as hard as his dick, but he tilted it back to finally find her face, to watch her beautiful eyes flutter and her perfect, full mouth to open around a moan. He did that to her. Just by breathing and biting on her nipple.
There they stayed for a frozen few moments, hanging on the edge of everything as he touched her. He knew he was good, they were good together, so fucking good, he knew it would happen soon. Loid smirked at Yor as his long expert fingers spread wetness along her cunt, relishing in the anticipation.
The sparks fizzled to life and her lips came crashing down on his. No longer were they lazy, drunken slow. Yor grabbed his wrists and moved his hands away from her, above his head, she trapped him there with one hand. In jerky, frantic movements, her other hand slid his pants and boxers down to his thighs, Loid hissed away from her lips as his cock came free, exposed to the sultry air in the cramped space.
They were panting and breathless when Yor finally plopped that perfect cunt on top of his curled up body, trapping his cock, her little shorts still on. Their cores, at long last, meeting. Their hips clapping together. He could feel the slick moisture between them as she rocked her hips, kissing him again. He could taste the wine and the whiskey and the ice cream, and their tongues slid together in a perfect rhythm in tandem with her hips sliding against his.
Faster and faster she humped him. Yor released his hands and he was delirious, his hands everywhere, all over her body, her hips, her waist, her thighs, her back, her breasts, her hair, her face. Loid gripped the back of her neck and kissed her with everything he had. And Yor was good, so good. The only one this good. She kissed back harder and there was nothing left of him. Just her, her, her.
Somehow it still wasn't enough. Loid wanted to rip those shorts off her, leave them in tatters, and plunge into that soaked pussy. He wanted to tell her this. Usually they talked a lot more, whispered together, and coaxed pleas from each others mouths. But it was all action and movement tonight, in this closet. Too drunk to talk. Too obsessed with the idea of fucking. So he communicated with whimpers and groans and moans against her lips, and the glide of his hips against her hips.
Give me more darling, please please please.
Yor released his wet mouth, and hummed, reaching down between their bodies. His hands found her hips and he watched, entranced, as she moved her little shorts to the side and thumbed at her own clit. Loid couldn't stop his hips from pumping up into her, seeking more. It was the most wonderful sight he had ever seen. Yor’s head rolled back on a moan, she grabbed his dick and his body jerked violently. She paid him no mind as her body rose up, and finally she took him in one smooth, graceful push as she came back down.
They sighed together. Sweet relief. They were still for a few moments, adjusting to the feel of each other. Because it was always so fucking overwhelming. The feel of her, sucking him in, wrapping him up in her heat, was so exquisite he almost cried. Loid took deep breaths and tried to center himself. His hazy, tipsy mind drifted. The thought that they were here, fucking in her closet because they were hiding from their daughter so she would fall asleep made him chuckle. Yor looked at him, his whole world above him, and smiled. And he was dazzled and dazed, fucked forever. A stupid, foolish man. He wanted her and he wanted to stay with her.
They began in earnest now, pumping together, their skin slick with sweat. His neck and back ached but it didn’t matter. Loid placed his feet flat on the ground so Yor could rest her back against his legs. It was so intimate, curled up like this. His hands moved from her hips to her stomach again, sliding under her shirt. His head ducked under there too and she laughed. Loid smiled against her sweaty skin, her toned, spectacular stomach, happy happy happy, and then lavished her smooth tummy and breasts with licks and sucks and kisses. He worshiped her curves and her muscles, her bones and her scars as she sighed appreciatively above him. Her skin was slick and the gorgeous, every mark a masterpiece.
His complicated mind collapsed into that one simple thought again: make Yor feel good. He let her use his body, she rocked back and forth, she bounced up and down, she rolled her hips, taking every inch of him. Slow and fast. Under her shirt, face and lips against her skin, he watched himself disappear inside her, and it was his undoing.
More frantic movements, the rhythm lost, stuttering gasps and moans. He clutched her tightly, his sweaty cheek pressed against her chest. They came together, the heat consuming them both at once. Loid was helpless as his powerful, unstoppable wife, moved and moved and moved around and above him. White, blinding heat and static, stars sparking in his eyes he felt the sensations extend and he rolled with the waves of pleasure, moving his face, gasping against her breast.
Finally, after they had coaxed every iota of pleasure out of each other, her movements slowed. Satisfied, Loid emerged from out of her shirt and grinned at her in a daze, dripping from the exertion and heat, stroking the smooth, sweaty skin under her shirt. Fondness spread across her face, and Yor whispered his name, Loid, smoothing his damp hair from his forehead. His heart stuttered as she leaned down and kissed him gently. Yor made him feel precious, Loid, Twilight, whoever he was. He didn't want those thoughts to come back yet.
Because he was here, just a nameless tool, a non-person used and discarded a hundred times over. And she was here, holding him close in this tiny space, just the two of them, kissing him like he was her greatest treasure, smiling at him like he mattered more than anything, like she would miss him if he ever left.
It was stifling hot and sweaty and sticky and all the muscles in his body suddenly felt tight and cramped. They needed to move. Soon they would stand and he would groan and she would frown, rubbing his shoulders. She would make him shower and she would join him, washing his body with care. Like it mattered, his body. And he would hold her close and whisper thank yous into her skin. And they would dry off and get into light comfy clothes and lay together in bed, with the window open. And the summer breeze would drift in as they would fall into sleep together. And he would dream of her.
But for now, Loid wanted to stay here, in this cramped closet, with Yor, his thoughts and mission and responsibilities on the other side of the door.
Let's hide here together a little longer, my love.