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Was there another adjective for blushing “loudly”? Furiously. Yes, that had to be it—and it's what currently described Yor's face as she eagerly flipped the page in her... racy... book. Her jaw dropped as she read through page thirty-eight and thirty-nine, and so on. The first few days she had the book at all, loaned to her through Camilla, she'd actually choked when she read it and had to put it down. The words the male narrator used were downright filthy—words she'd never used aloud, let alone looked at. And then curiosity got the best of her. She picked it back up, and now she was skimming her once-innocent ruby eyes over the strings of sentences hungrily, wondering how in the hell this woman was speaking to a Catholic priest in this way. Yor knew she could never speak like that, not in her entire life, no matter how comfortable she became with sex.
She had to admit, though... The way this man thought about the woman was enticing. She wondered if Loid had a similar way of thinking. About her. She (bashfully) hoped.
Yor always made sure she was reading the book late at night, by herself, while everyone else slept. She did not want Loid asking questions in broad daylight—especially around Anya, too, who was just as inquisitive as Loid. While she loved that they were interested in her hobbies, she wouldn't be able to answer them honestly. She hated lying to them.
And besides—with as much as this book made her blush, she'd probably end up a stammering mess in the middle of the day. This way, she could gasp with shock in private... and perhaps later bite her lip and consider exploring herself like she had in the bathroom a few days ago. If it came to that, of course. She hadn't gotten too far in the book yet, but she was sure (based on what had happened so far) that there was something heart-pounding on the way.
Yor glanced to the alarm clock, sighing when she realized how late it was. She was going to feel the exhaustion at work tomorrow.
Staying up until three in the morning was not the best idea. Yor groaned under her breath, feet dragging as she left City Hall, eyes falling heavy in tandem with the slowly setting sun. Usually, she was much better than this—going on little sleep during missions was the norm for her. But piling her missions, plus her job, plus her newfound destructive reading habit... it was a little much. It was her own fault, though that knowledge did nothing to lessen the tiredness. It did, however, convince her to practice more self control.
Yor inserted her key into the lock and turned the doorknob, stepping into the apartment. The relief of being home nearly made her fall to her knees and cry. The sound of Anya's favorite television show playing in the living room. The smell of meat and vegetables being cooked in the tiny kitchen. The promise of a long, long bath later. And Loid's voice washing over her, welcoming her home, the utter sensation of comfort settling deep inside her chest. All of it was so overwhelmingly tender and precious.
With tears in her eyes, Yor removed her shoes and shuffled to the kitchen, where Loid stirred something on the stove. “Would you like something to... drink?” Loid trailed off as Yor came up behind him and slumped against his back. Her fingers clutched his crisp white collared shirt, and her forehead rested on his spine. “Yor?” he murmured. He'd stopped moving.
“I'm sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, Loid,” Yor sniffled quietly.
“Not at all,” he replied, his voice soft but deep. She could feel it radiate into her cheekbones, warming her face. “Do you need anything?”
She shook her head. And before she could think better of it, she wrapped her arms around his middle. “Just this,” she sighed. Already, she was becoming more relaxed; her bones felt like gelatin.
Loid carefully turned in her grasp, making Yor lift her face. “Are you sure you're okay?” he whispered, brushing his thumb on the corner of her eye where she was sure there was a leftover tear. She smiled, small and meek, nodding her assurance. Those blue eyes wandered over her face, and she allowed hers to wander of his, too. She paused at his mouth, thinking about all the other kisses they'd shared thus far. And then her damned book came to mind, sending a rush of lust through her. A blush rose to her cheeks.
She couldn't help it. Anya might see them, but those chances were low as long as she was preoccupied with the TV. Yor stood on her tip-toes and kissed him—just once, just to feel his lips again. When she pulled back, Loid had a blush of his own, eyebrows raised in surprise.
Yor had a strange mix of feelings; comfort and desire and happiness all rolled into one. It wasn't unpleasant. Not in the least.
“Yor,” he murmured. Then his arms tightened around her back, pulling her even closer as he buried his face into her neck. “I...” He huffed out a sigh, his breath warm on her skin. “I like this,” he ultimately said, so quiet that if they hadn't been embracing, she wouldn't have heard it. She was endlessly grateful that she had.
“Me, too,” she smiled, a content hum in her chest.
They eventually had to pull away from each other, hands lingering as if reluctant to let go. But it was time for dinner, and then Yor would be able to sink into the blessed hot water of her bath, and finally get a good night's rest. She'd be skipping the reading for tonight.
“Yor... Yor. Wake up.”
Her eyes fluttered open. Loid's handsome face came into view, but something was off. She was sideways. Frowning, she sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “What time is it?” she mumbled.
Loid's face softened with his gentle smile. “It's nine-thirty. I've already taken care of Anya for the night. You fell asleep on the sofa, sitting straight up with your tea in your hands.”
“Oh.” Yor covered her yawn, then raised her hands above her head as she stretched. “Thank you for waking me. I need to go bathe... and wash my hair,” she added with a pout.
“Yor,” Loid began, seeming hesitant. She tilted her head, blinking, waiting. “You seem unusually tired today. Is there anything I can do?” Yor blinked again, pondering his question for only a moment until he spoke again, interrupting her thoughts.
“I could help you wash your hair.”
He said it so quickly that it took Yor a belated second to absorb the words. A flush of heat crawled across the back of her neck, reaching her chest, her face, even her ears. Her lips parted to decline his offer—because how unladylike would it be to accept? How much of a lecherous, debased woman would she become?—but for some reason, when it came to Loid recently, her mouth said the exact opposite of what her brain would have. “T-That would be wonderful,” she stuttered out, breathless.
As Loid followed Yor to the bathroom—on trembling legs—a scene from her book flashed in her mind. It was when Poppy was confessing in the booth to Father Bell, and then she stopped herself from speaking. To clearly confessing that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. But Father Bell couldn't let her leave without knowing what she was going to say... and then he made her bend over the piano bench.
Yor wasn't particularly religious, but if she ever heard those tortured, desperate words Father Bell had spoken aloud from Loid to her, she'd let it happen, too. If Loid ever spoke to her like that, against her like that, she'd fall apart at the seams on the spot.
Having Loid in the bathroom with her was unnerving. Her fingers felt heavy and numb, fumbling as she grabbed her necessities. Loid sat on the small bench next to the tub; that was where she usually sat when she helped Anya bathe. Now he'd be doing the same for her. Yor tried to breathe evenly as she adjusted the water temperature. As the tub began filling, she turned to Loid, biting her lip and fidgeting in place. “Could you...” she murmured, “close your eyes for a bit, please?”
She may have invited him in, but that didn't mean she was completely ready for him to watch her undress.
Loid jolted at her words, then blushed. It was endearing, seeing that he was as nervous as she was. A little comforting, as well. He shut his eyes and even went as far as turning away from her. She stared at his back for a moment before beginning to strip her work clothes off and placing them in the hamper. She grabbed her herbal bath salts and sprinkled some in the steaming water, and finally she stepped inside the claw-foot tub, the water rising with the displacement of her body. When it covered her chest and was cloudy enough to make her relax a tiny bit (very tiny—minuscule), she turned the knobs and wrapped her arms around her legs.
Silence descended upon the room. The air was thick and humid; it only added to the intensity, the anticipation, of what was to come next.
Honestly, she didn't know how she was going to get any sleep tonight after this.
Oh, god, why did her damned mouth have to go and agree to this?
Blood rushed in her ears. Maybe she should just tell him to go... Would that offend him? Humiliate him? It would certainly humiliate her, especially after already coming so far.
She opened her mouth. “I'm s—”
“Yor.”
She paused. “Yes?” she breathed.
“I wanted to—need to—say something.” He fell silent for a few heart-stopping moments. “I think you are an exceptional woman. You have been nothing but a doting mother for Anya, and an amazingly considerate wife. It doesn't matter that our marriage wasn't traditional to begin with. I've enjoyed every moment spent with you.”
Radiant. That was the only word she could use to describe how she felt. Yor buried her face in her hands, lips quivering as they held back a strange happy-desperate sob. “Thank you,” she whispered hoarsely. “You... you can turn back around now, Loid.”
She heard him shift. The way the bench was placed still put her back to him, even if he faced her, so she turned as well. It was just a glance over her shoulder, but when her eyes met his, crimson clashing with ocean, Yor was hit with an incredible surge of heat. Loid had rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, the top two buttons of his collared shirt undone, exposing skin she'd never thought was attractive until then. She blushed furiously and whipped her head back around. Her entire nervous system had officially been fried, all wires cut and flailing about, making her shiver despite the hot water.
“Lean your head back,” Loid requested, his voice whispering over every inch of her skin.
Water trickled through her hair as he poured it from a cup. And then his hand cupped the side of her head, grabbing a handful of black locks. She'd never had anyone but herself wash her hair, so the sensation of his fingers against her scalp was weird—and pleasant. Shampooing came next; a soft moan dribbled past her lips as he massaged it in, creating the lather and permeating the air with the scent of cherries. It was strange... He was relaxing her and also arousing her at the same time. How was he doing it? She sighed when he began rinsing, ringing the excess water out.
Loid grabbed the next bottle. He brushed the sides of her neck as he gathered her hair once more and combed through it with his fingers, coating each strand in conditioner. Her head lolled to the side, eyes drooping with the fogginess of bliss. Then he was rinsing again, and all at once, his hands weren't touching her anymore. Yor didn't even question herself when she turned her head around, confused as to why he pulled away. Her brain was too clouded to make any proper decisions. She took in the details of him unhurriedly: the drops of water that trickled from his fingertips onto the floor—the way his legs were parted, arms braced on his thighs—the steady rise and fall of his chest, outlined by his shirt that clung to his form—the sharp line of his jaw that she ached to trace with her finger—a flush that crept from his neck up to his face—pale blonde hair damp and hanging messily over his forehead—and those eyes, lowered and darker than usual, like they had surfaced from the sea floor.
Agitated came to mind.
Yor's lips parted slightly, claret irises darting to his mouth that was pressed into a hard line.
Why was the sight of his irritation... seductive to her?
“Stop staring at me like that, Yor,” he rasped, “or I'm not going to be able to hold myself back anymore.”
She dragged her eyes back up to his. He was holding himself back. Oh. Oh. Her heart leapt to her throat, and she unconsciously grasped at it, her pulse hammering under her fingertips. Loid's gaze narrowed at her hand; for some reason, that particular look made her want to squirm.
Yor sensed the vague aura of danger, yet it was different than when she was on one of her missions. The violence that usually accompanied it was absent. That only left the lust. Consuming, formidable, devastating lust.
There was something Camilla had mentioned to her before Yor had left her house after the sex talk, after she had loaned Yor the “educational” materials. Honesty is the best policy when it comes to sex, Camilla said. You have to communicate with each other, no matter how embarrassing it might be. If you don't, resentment might built, or guilt, or many other negative emotions. Don't be naive about this, Yor. You cannot skip the talking part. Now get the hell out of my house.
“L-L-Loid,” she stammered, darting her gaze to the floor, “I-I know y-you probably have m-m-much more experience t-than me... A-And that p-puts me at a d-disadvantage. But I-I w-w-would s-still l-l-like t-to... f-for you to... t—touch me.” Yor took a deep breath and finally met his wide eyes. His surprise evened her voice. Comforted her. “And I would like to touch you, too.”
Loid stood and came over to the front of the tub, bracing his hands on either side, the muscles in his forearms tensed. He leaned down; Yor couldn't help shrinking back a little, terrified and excited simultaneously. Loid froze for only a second before continuing his path towards her. All too quickly, his face was level with hers, their eyes never leaving each other. “You can tell me to stop at any time,” he murmured.
She nodded even though her body was shivering with anticipation.
Loid bent in, that dark shade of blue lowering to her mouth. She closed her eyes, her lips parted with her shallow breaths, and then he was kissing her with the touch of a butterfly, sending thrills and sparks down to her core. She added the pressure, then one of his hands was cupping her jaw, and his staccato groan made her whimper softly in response.
The water sloshed as she lifted her hands to his neck. His skin was smooth and as warm as hers. She tugged him closer and opened her mouth to lick at his upper lip. Loid met her tongue with his own, fingers digging into her hair. Yes. This was what she wanted, what she had been craving. Hunger curled like a flame in her belly.
Yor's shaky fingers began unbuttoning Loid's shirt with haste, desperate to feel more of him. Meanwhile, the man who was delving deep into her mouth, almost completely distracting her from her new goal, brought his hand to her throat. It merely rested there, palm against her voice box, fingers and thumb holding either side of her jaw firmly. He was still being gentle with her, but there was an edge now—an edge that made some kind of guttural sound come forth. She couldn't tell which of them made the noise.
Finally, she had undone most of the buttons. Not all, but enough to satisfy. Yor slid her hands down his chest as Loid pulled away from their kiss and immediately moved to her jaw where his thumb was, angling her head to the side himself. That act alone made her gasp. His lips and teeth teased her skin while she trailed her fingers down the toned, defined muscle of his chest and half of his abdomen. Yor slowly rose onto her knees, the water from the bath sluicing down her own toned body. She wanted to feel more of him.
And she did—she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed her breasts to his exposed chest.
Loid hissed, faltering. Yor released a tortured breath, nipples tightening as she rubbed against him. Then both of his hands went to her spine, cinching her entire torso to his as he licked a stripe up her neck to her ear. “Those sounds you're making are driving me insane,” he whispered.
Yor's head was swimming. She pulled back, mouth hanging open with her panting, taking in the dark expression he harbored. Oh—that must have been arousal she'd been seeing earlier. Biting her lip, Yor brushed his hair back from his forehead. “I'm... I need... please...” she breathed. She couldn't articulate what she really wanted to say, which was Please, god, touch me before I explode.
But Loid, thank the heavens, seemed to understand. He kept their gazes locked as his hands roamed the expanse of her back, exploring the dip of her spine, the shape of her shoulder blades. Then he moved to her ribs, her waist, her belly, thumbs rubbing circles into her skin. Yor whimpered her pleasure—and gasped when he cupped her breasts, still slippery from her herbal bathwater. But he didn't stay there for long, sliding his palms over her pebbled nipples, up her collarbones, then both hands were around her throat, thumbs tipping her head back. Yor closed her eyes as she felt his lips trail down from the tip of her chin, following the path his hands had made, and then eventually reached her chest.
His hands came back down, too, to hold them tenderly. Her breath was choppy at best, barely there at worst. And as his mouth and tongue closed over one of her nipples, completely enveloping it, Yor moaned loudly, her fingers tangling in his short hair and arching her back. The heat was nothing like she'd ever experienced—entirely different from her own fingers.
If he made her feel this wonderful with just her breasts and his mouth, how would everything else feel?
Her insides were molten. And then he switched sides, placing little love bites on his way over, and the process started anew. Yor's pleasure swirled throughout her body. It made her lighter and heavier at the same time—oh, fuck, those were his teeth, tugging on her nipple. And then his tongue rolled over it, soothing the bite, and then he bit again, and licked again, and he kept repeating himself.
“Like... that... please,” she pleaded through her panting.
There was something happening. Waves of new pleasure, new heat. It was so much—the combination of Loid's squeezing hands, and his mouth, and the sounds of him suckling. So much. So much.
She finally tipped her head back down to watch. It was captivating to see his mouth move so hungrily. Another wave hit her. Another. Yor moaned and whimpered and rasped his name out.
It happened in an instant, euphoria shooting through her like a comet in space. She gasped for air, cried out, and immediately went limp, slumping against Loid. She was dazed, blissful, but she could still hear his voice.
“Yor?! Are you alright? Come on, come back to me.”
After a few moments, she blinked into awareness, meeting his worried eyes with confusion. “What...” she breathed. “What happened just now?”
Loid shook his head, a mix of surprise and disbelief replacing concern. “I think you just orgasmed,” he murmured with uncertainty, a blush staining his cheeks.
Orgasmed? Camilla had mentioned something... That was when a man or woman reached a climax? Yes, that's certainly how she'd describe it. “Wow,” she mumbled. “That was amazing.”
Loid looked like he was going to say something, but then he smiled in a defeated way and hung his head, chuckling softly. She blinked at the sound, totally bewildered by his reaction. When he looked back up at her, his eyes were warm. “Perhaps we should just call it a night and get you to bed,” he suggested, not unkindly. She nodded in agreement; she'd had enough for the night. Enough to last her for weeks worth of fantasies and dreams.
Even after all they had done, Loid turned around as she stepped out of the tub and grabbed her towel, protecting her modesty. As she dried off and dressed herself, she tried to memorize every inch of the profile of his back. His shirt had become damp in the time they spent within the humidity and it clung to his shape. Yor wished she could see without the shirt in the way, but she supposed she would be looking a gift horse in the mouth if she dared to ask.
Loid, ever the gentleman, escorted her back to her bedroom, even though it was only across the hall. “Thank you for not pushing further,” Yor blurted while she stood in her doorway. “I think anything more than... what we did... would have been too much for me. I really appreciate your decorum, too.” She smiled briefly, blushing and biting her lip. “I didn't feel humiliated after almost passing out on you again.” Yor wanted to curl up and die every time she thought about their first kiss. How she had gotten a nosebleed and woken up five minutes later on the couch with Loid taking care of her.
Loid brushed his thumb along her cheekbone tenderly. “I'd never do anything to make you uncomfortable, Yor,” he murmured, those heartbreaking, gorgeous blue eyes sparkling in the dim light.
She smiled again, leaning into his touch. “I know,” she answered. Her honesty with herself didn't surprise her—she'd been more and more at ease with Loid as the days passed. There was nothing she wouldn't trust him with.
Well, other than her secret job. But not even Yuri knew about it.
“Goodnight, Loid,” she said softly, blinking slowly and sleepily. Everything had caught up to her now, and if she didn't crawl into bed soon, she'd fall asleep standing up.
“Goodnight, Yor.”
She dreamt of nothing that night, too exhausted to even relive the most amazing bath of her life.