#twilightweek

You'd seen him on that woman in the alley, his hands on her and his torso covering her, as close as you'd like him to be with you in public.

Your relationship with Loid is complicated, a marriage of convenience between the two of you to raise a child you suspect is not even his. A nuanced marriage of blurred contours, with under-the-table displays of affection or hushed sighs in your shared bedroom at night. During the day, however, those wilted displays of affection dampened the passion between the two of you and your feelings for him, or so you thought, until you saw him in that alley.

Then he had come home that night, before you, and proposed the idea of traveling as a family. First sign of infidelity: sporadic trips. Though taking you with him seemed like an oversight, you couldn't sleep that night, not with the thought of Loid thinking about any woman but you.

You watched him sleep next to you, blond curls against the pillow, white shirt snug against his toned arms, and you lamented that you were not the woman who enjoyed his abundant affection and total devotion. You were frustrated that you were only a sporadic lay, a means to relieve stress, though you had to admit that you were using him for your own purposes as well. Sex without love, an arranged marriage like any other.

So you lay on the train and watched Anya struggle with her schoolwork. And then, green flag, the girl goes to the bathroom, leaving you and Loid alone. He picks up Anya's notebook, frowning as he tries to decipher his supposed daughter's handwriting, and you, in an insane outburst, finding yourself fascinated by the gestures of your very attractive husband, caress his leg with your foot. First, from the ankle to the knee, slowly and seductively, while you look at him with your chin resting on your hands and your head cocked to one side, hoping to elicit even the slightest reaction from him.

Nothing.

You watch him carefully, your foot trying to push his knees apart, all in silence until a sound comes from his lips:

"You're kind of anxious," not what you expected to hear, and worse, you find it humiliating that he says it to you in that low tone of voice he only uses when you're alone in bed, the one he knows melts your legs.

You cross your arms, annoyed at yourself for acting like a hormonal teenager, and at him for reprimanding you, or so you think, until you feel his foot slide up your leg.

Bingo.

Anya takes a while in the bathroom, and you both know you have plenty of time. That's why he's sitting next to you, his chest against your back and one of his hands resting on the window pane. You watch the beautiful landscape stretching out in front of you as you blur the window with every sigh Loid draws from you. His fingers are between your legs, his hand has cleverly slipped under the waistband of your skirt and your panties.

You cling to his arm, trying to control the spasms of your body from the circular motion of his fingers on your pussy. But you find it impossible, especially when he kisses your neck and whispers nonsense against your skin.

"Loid… mhhh" you whisper as you turn to face him and find his head resting on your shoulder, his eyes completely closed as he enjoys the wet sound of your center being stirred by his fingers, "Do you have another woman?"

Your question takes him by surprise, but not enough to stop him from pleasuring you.

"If I had another woman, would I be here having me in your pussy?". He answers you as matter-of-factly as if his words were not as inappropriate as his actions.

The orgasm hits you just as the locomotive whistle turns into a high-pitched scream. Loid holds you tight as your body tenses and your legs stretch. You fall into his embrace and feel a kiss on your temple.

"There will never be another woman," he tells you in a soft, gentle tone as his hand strokes your hair, "only you, only and only you, my darling".

🍃🌱🌿🍵🍃🌱🌿🍵🍃🌱🌿

The Forgers had arrived on time, with an appropriate hostess gift. Yor had taken great delight in introducing them to her coworkers. He’d made sure that at least some of the food Anya took off the buffet was healthy. (Bacon wrapped asparagus was technically a vegetable.) After they’d made the rounds as a family, he’d left Yor chatting with her work friends and kept an eye on Anya. She’d found another child her age and they were playing a game with the chess set on the coffee table. (It didn’t look like a regulation game of chess but at least they weren’t running around anymore.)

He’d been making polite conversation with the husband of one of Yor’s coworkers when this man approached. Twilight had recognized him from the list of City Hall personnel, Section Chief Barnes. Then Barnes sprung the trap.  “So, a doctor, eh? I’ll bet you play golf.”  Twilight had had to admit he did. He tried to brush it off with, “I picked it up in Med school, but I haven’t had the time to keep up with it.” The section chief would not be so easily dissuaded.

If there was one thing Mr. Barnes loved more than playing golf it was discussing golf. It had taken Twilight less thirty seconds to determine the man was a buffoon, and two minutes to get enough information to impersonate him should it ever be necessary. And still the man just kept talking.

Mr. Barnes launched into an incredibly tedious play by play of his latest golf game. To make matters worse Twilight had played that particular course (undercover, for a tournament) and was acutely aware of everything Barnes had done wrong. He feigned interest all the same. The section chief set Yor’s schedule. If Loid offended him Yor could get stuck with even more late shifts than she usually did.

Barnes was only on the fifth hole. (And why did he think using a pitching wedge was a good idea in that situation?) Twilight noticed the other guests were quietly slipping out of the room, some of them giving him sympathetic looks as they went. So much for the hope of someone breaking into the conversation and causing a distraction. Maybe he should fake indigestion?

Just then Twilight realized hadn’t heard any horsey noises from the direction of the chess set for a while. He looked over and saw Anya’s little head starting to nod. Perfect! A sleepy child was a socially acceptable excuse to leave a dull party. He smoothly slid around Mr. Barnes. “You’ll have to excuse me. It’s well past my daughter’s bedtime.”

Twilight scooped the little girl up and went to find Yor. When she saw him, and the now sleeping Anya in his arms, she quickly said her goodbyes. “I’m sorry we’re making you leave early.” He said.