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Loid stared into the bag Franky had given him. “Where are the supressants?”
Franky smiled, but it was a weak, trembling thing that knew it wasn’t fooling anyone. “Aren’t you due for your yearly cycle? Gotta make sure everything still works.”
“I am still working, Franky. I am neck deep in the highest-level mission of my life—“
“The mission where you’re pretending to be a newlywed.”
Loid blinked, stunned by information he already knew, like a man who stood up too quickly and cracked his head on his own kitchen cabinets.
“I mean, if I was a newlywed you know I’d be taking that two week heat-leave,” Franky continued, in an effort to console that came off more like leering.
Something scuttled up Loid’s back, worse than the shiver brought on by cold or the sensation of tiny, hairy legs across one’s skin. “Surely I could take the leave without actually having to go through…” He was a grown man. He said the word all the time. Just not in relation to himself.
Franky made a face. There was sympathy in his expression, but it couldn’t override the logical, practical nature of a spy. “You live in a pretty big apartment, but it’s not that big. You might not be sleeping with Yor, but she would probably want to know why you’re skipping your annual heat.”
It was embaressing to have basic facts explained to him, particularly because he understood why the continuation of this ruse was more important than a dip in his field work or his own discomfort. That Franky felt the need to lay it out for him meant his desire to avoid it showed clearly on his face.
“Of course,” Loid said, and then, as a misdirect, “I was only a little concerned about Anya. I’ve never experienced a heat while I was charged with taking care of a child.”
Franky’s expression brightened. “At least it will be milder since you’ve been spending so much time with a little kid, right?”
Loid had heard that. He was skeptical, but mostly he knew that any heat was going to hit him like a train after so many years without. Still, he didn’t want to punish Franky for doing his job, so he faked a smile with much more grace than Franky had earlier, thanked him for the supplies, and headed home.
“My annual heat should start on Thursday,” Loid said to Yor over dinner that night. He felt he should set a casual tone for the conversation. It was natural that this should come up in the course of their fake relationship, so he might as well treat it as the inevitablity it was.
“Oh!” Yor yelped as though her fork had nipped her. “I-I see.”
Anya had been greedily devouring her mashed potatoes, but she came to attention at the sound of Yor’s alarm. “Is Papa alright?” She asked, looking between the two of them.
“I’m fine,” Loid assured her. “I’ll just need some extra rest next week.”
“Are you sick?” Anya persisted.
“Loid will be having a heat,” Yor said, speaking a bit more slowly and with better enunciation. “It’s something adult bodies do in order in order to prepare them for having children.”
Anya’s eyes went wide.
“Yor and I aren’t having any more children,” Loid said before she could ask. “My body does it regularly so I will be ready when—if the time comes.”
Anya turned her excitement back to her potatoes. “Are you going to make a nest?” She asked. “Like in the fairytale?”
Loid looked at Yor in question, and she said, “I think she means The Lindworm. The farmer’s daughter builds a nest before she bites the lindworm prince.”
“I might, if it makes me feel more comfortable,” Loid said. Then he realized how irresistible a blanket fort would be to Anya and quickly added, “But probably not. And you’ll need to be very well-behaved while I’m resting because Yor will be doing double-duty around here.”
Yor and Anya wore matching expressions of concern for a moment.
“Will you be able to cook?” Anya asked. Loid was sure this had been Yor’s question as well.
“I’ll try,” He said, “So Mama isn’t too overwhlemed.”
“No!” Yor said, “I can certainly cook for a week.”
“It’s no trouble,” Loid said.
Yor shook her head. “Please don’t push myself.”
“I’ll delegate when I need to,” Loid conceded.
“And I’ll help!” Anya said, sticking her hand in the air and waving it around like she knew the answer.
“I’m sure you’ll be a great help,” Yor said, running a hand through Anya’s hair. Loid doubted it, but he was pleased that this conversation had gone relatively smoothly and allowed himself to relax at the sight of Anya and Yor’s matching smiles.
Later that night, just as Loid was thinking about putting his book away and going to sleep, there was a tentative knock at his door. “Come in,” Loid said. He was sitting up in bed, already in his pajamas.
“Hello,” Yor said, sounding so nervous Loid half expected her to formally introduce herself, as though they hadn’t been living together for months. She came to the side of his bed, and hovered for a moment before clearly deciding not to sit. “Loid, I would like to help you with your heat.”
“Oh, you don’t have to-“
“I want to,” Yor insisted, and there was the flicker of something in her eye that Loid had seen before. A determination forged of steel that arose at the oddest times. “After everything you’ve done for me, and as your Alpha, I want to make this as easy for you as possible.” Her gaze dropped from his to the edge of the bed, and the waves of heat her eyes seemed to emit vanished, leaving Loid oddly cold. “That is, if you would be comfortable with that.”
Loid took a breath. For his cover it would only make sense to lean on Yor. He couldn’t imagine an omega who wouldn’t be delighted to spend a heat with an Alpha like Yor. Beautiful, strong, smelling of roses and something richer and deeper that he could never quite place. Just the thought of burying his face in the crook of her eased some of tension from his body.
“I would appreciate that,” He said softly.
Yor smiled at him, and then, with a swiftness beyond even his well-honed reflexes, she bent down and kissed him on the forehead.
Loid sat for some time after she had left, the warmth of her kiss lingering on his skin, until he remembered that he was supposed to be sleeping and turned out the light.
Yor woke up a few minutes before her alarm on Thursday morning, pulled from sleep by a scent rather than a sound. It was very pleasant, if heavy. Yeasty, but clean, somewhere between fresh bread and pale ale. She inhaled it, half-asleep, wondering if there was a good breeze bringing the scent of the bakery a street away to her window.
Her eyes popped open and she sat bolt upright, coming fully awake in a second. Loid.
She knew his heat should start some time this week, he had taken time off of work after all, but she hadn’t been quite prepared for the tangible reality of it. She hurriedly dressed, and then began a simple breakfast of porridge and eggs, remembering at the right moment in the cooking process to gently wake Anya.
Anya was excited to eat her mother’s cooking, in the way that children can be excited purely by novelty. She was unaware of the scent that Yor felt permeating the apartment. Anya was nowhere near puberty, so her nose had not developed enough to notice anything amiss, especially after being told that Loid would be incapacitated for a bit.
Yor walked Anya to the bus stop, waved her off, and as soon as the taillights disappeared she started running.
Loid woke to a spinning room. For a moment he thought he’d been drugged, but then he felt a dull ache in his groin, which brought attention to the damp patches in his underwear. His arousal felt artificial. It reminded him of the few times he had felt a full-body, sparkling warmth towards humanity, only to realize he was drunk.
It was a useful comparison. Loid remembered the training he had received to help him keep a cool head and a steady hand even if he was compromised by drugs. He made it to the kitchen and ate a decent breakfast from what Yor had left out for him, but when he went to clean his dishes his body rebelled.
The next thing Loid remembered was the opening and closing of the front door. He was sitting on the floor with his head between his knees, but Yor’s scent went past his nose and struck his hindbrain. Alpha. Yor. Relief.
Loid had gripped the counter and was trying to rise when Yor found him.
“Loid!” She was beside him in an instant, hoisting him up with a shockingly firm grip. “Are you alright?”
Loid turned, trying to bury his face in her neck, but the surprise of encountering the pink felt of her coat instead of her skin cleared his mind for a moment. He jerked away, accidentally slamming his hip against the kitchen counter. His insistence that he was fine was undercut by the need to hunch slightly and grip the spot with a rapidly forming bruise.
“I’m sorry,” he gasped, still bent over, “I shouldn’t—it’s not my place to—“
“I want to help you Loid,” Yor said softly. “Don’t worry about me for a moment. What do you need?”
Loid gazed at her. His senses were screaming Alpha, yet Yor seemed as put-together as ever. His sight was dazzled by his over-blown pupils, but he still got the sense that her posture was perfectly casual, seemingly unaffected by his miserable state.
And he was miserable. His underwear was soaked, his pajamas were beginning to cling to him with sweat, and his arousal had only gotten harder and stronger since Yor appeared.
“I need a bath,” he said. He would only get sweaty and sticky again, but right now he still felt like a hot bath could scrub away the worst of his heat.
“Of course,” Yor said, “Should I draw it for you?”
Loid wanted to protest that he was perfectly capable of doing it himself, but he didn’t want to. It may have been the heat addeling his mind, suddenly self-sufficiency seemed a dull and unconvincing ruse. “That would be nice.”
A few moments later he was sitting on top of the closed toilet, watching Yor adjust the taps and sprinkle scented oil on the water. She had to bend over often as she prepared the bath, and there would be the sway of her hair, the curve of her back, or her ass, small things that suddenly made Loid want to moan.
“There!” Yor said, looking satisfied at the steaming, lilac-tinged bathwater. She turned to Loid with a smile, then hesitated, a flush creeping over her cheeks. “Would you like me to stay and wash your back for you?”
A protest rose in Loid’s throat, but a wave of want passed over him that forced it back down.
This can only be beneficial to the mission, He thought, Contact with Anya should have weakened the heat, and contact with an Alpha like Yor will speed it along.
And what an Alpha she is, He couldn’t help but add. Her hair was staring to grow damp from the steam filling the room, and the flush on her face made her eyes sparkle.
“I would,” He said, the intensity of his need making it hard to speak.
“Good,” Yor said, with a nervous, bobbing nod.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Loid asked as he began unbuttoning his pajama top.
Yor froze, and Loid felt a spasm of panic that nearly stopped his heart. Then Yor was in front of him, her hand on his now bare chest. She had unerringly found his heart, her palm flat against it. “I want you to be well, Loid.”
Loid’s body throbbed. He bit his lip to hold back a moan, and was shocked by how quickly the blood came. He gasped at the shock of pain, and opened his eyes to see Yor staring at his lip. Something flickered across her expression, that mysterious intensity Loid could never quite place. It came and went suddenly, and was so powerful it seemed to distort her face like the shimmer of heat on hot pavement.
“The bath,” Yor said, just as Loid said, “I should really get in.”
Yor laughed at the awkward tangle of their words, the odd moment popping like a soap bubble.
Loid removed the rest of his clothes, trying not to show his embarrassment at the pre-cum smeared across his thighs. He slid into the tub, and sighed as the fever of his heat was replaced with the neutral warmth of the bath. He felt some of his tension ease, though he was still hard.
Loid startled when he saw a pair of hands in his peripheral vision-a garrot?-but then Yor’s hands were on his shoulders and his fear evaporated. Her scent was stronger in the small, hot room, wafting over him in a promise of comfort. He leaned back and turned slightly, his lips brushing against Yor’s cheek.
Twilight had seduced dozens of women. He could keep his cool while being driven into a mattress by a society matron in the first full-blown rut of her life. He had techniques that could find even the sweetest, most retiring woman naked in front of him within an hour.
He could not recall any of them. It was his need that had him saying, “Yor, please kiss me.” The ache inside him was so powerful he honestly believed he wouldn’t survive a rejection, like a man who has just realized the water he is crawling toward is nothing but a sandy mirage.
Yor placed her hand on the back of his neck, angling his head towards her to better plant her lips on his. Her kiss was firm and dry, and Loid found himself lapping at her lips, begging to be let in. She opened her mouth slightly and he pressed his tongue to hers. Distantly he felt water sloshing against his skin as he tried to turn further in the tub so he could get closer to her.
Yor put her hands on his shoulders, near his collarbone, and pushed him away and down, back into the tub. Loid’s head was spinning from his hormones, the heated air, and the fact that he had forgotten to breathe while kissing Yor.
Before Loid had time to wonder if Yor had just rebuffed him, she drew her sweater over her head, leaving her in just tights and a lacy black bra. Loid gazed at her the way a man might stare in awe at any natural wonder.
Yor smiled at him. “May I wash your hair for you?”
She could have every scrap of confidential information he knew, if she only thought to ask. Luckily, what she wanted was less likely to get them both killed.
Loid turned around so his back was to Yor and lost himself in the easy rhythm of her hands working shampoo through his hair. His cock was still hard, demanding attention, and without thought he cupped it gently, rubbing the base with the heel of his hand. This only increased the ache between his legs, but at least he could draw it out into something luxuriantly torturous instead of just a dull throbbing.
“Tilt your head back,” Yor said softly. Loid complied, braced for the stream of warm water she poured over him. The movement brought another wave of Yor’s pheromones to his nose and his mouth fell open in full-throated moan.
Yor’s hands stilled. Loid blinked his eyes open as Yor leaned forward, her neck against his shoulder as she gazed down at his body. She nudged a small clump of bubbles away, then Loid’s hand, giving her an unobstrcuted, if rippling, view of his cock under the water.
“Yor?” Loid asked.
“Is it painful?” Yor asked, eyes still on his cock, possibly referring to the inflamed tip, foreskin straining just below his glans.
“Almost,” Loid admitted.
Yor readjusted herself so she and Loid were face to face. She touched his face, her thumb running over his lips. Her nail caught at the spot he had bitten earlier, renewing the rusty tang in the air. Loid thought it was an accident, but then her thumb returned to the spot, pressing so that blood beaded along Loid’s bottom lip.
That heated gaze had returned. Somewhere at the back of his mind Loid was working up the energy to be frightened, but then Yor kissed him. Her tongue slid along his lip before delving into his mouth. Loid moaned wantonly, clutching at Yor’s breasts, unable to hold back or care that he was getting her wet.
Yor came as close as the lip of the tub would allow, the hand she had been stroking his face with sliding down his torso. Loid was panting “Please” against her lips before she had even cleared his hip. When she wrapped her fingers around his cock he surged towards her, nearly knocking the tub over.
Yor recoiled, returning the tub to its proper position on the floor. “I think you’re clean enough.” She pulled the towel off its rack and held it out as Loid left the tub, water cascading off his body. It was difficult to dry him off because he kept forgetting what he was supposed to be doing and trying to kiss Yor, whining in frustration when she dodged him. She had to take the towel from him and tousle it over his body, sliding to her knees as she dried his dripping legs.
For a moment Loid thought she was merely being through, but her hands stilled around his calves and when he looked down she was studying his cock intently. Her gaze was regaining that peculiar quality, and just as panic was reaching a noticeable level in Loid’s mind, she wrapped one hand around his dick and took it deep in her mouth.
Loid gasped, curling over her, his hands instantly buried in her hair. She was sucking hard, working her way back up to his tip with agonizing slowness. Whatever self-control Loid could claim had officially left him. He stood with his legs spread wide, groaning and attempting to hump into her mouth. He wanted to cum so badly he couldn’t think of anything else.
Yor came off his dick with an audible pop. She looked up at him, gaze soft. Loid couldn’t imagine what she was seeing in his flushed face and disheveled hair, but she gripped his wrist hard enough to ache as she dragged him to his bedroom.
“No,” He managed as they crossed the threshold. Yor’s hand dropped from his arm, and even that momentary loss of contact was unbearable. “I want to be in your room. Your scent, it makes me feel…” Loid could remember the compliments he would use on women he needed to seduce, but this wasn’t a compliment. He simply couldn’t imagine a greater luxury than laying on Yor’s bed, enveloped in her scent.
Loid must have been sluggish from his heat, because it seemed that Yor moved at an impossible speed. The next thing he knew he was flat on his back on Yor’s bed. He turned his head to bury his face in her sheets as she pulled her bra off. His attention came right back to her as she leapt onto the bed to straddle him. Her chest was damp where Loid had soaked it with his clumsy grope, a drop of water sliding between her breasts, toward her black tights.
Yor fumbled at the waistband of her tights, realized she couldn’t take them off while sitting on Loid, grabbed a knife from her bedside table and tore open both her tights and underwear. The knife came dangerously close to Loid’s exposed cock before she lightly tossed it aside. Loid followed the arc with his eyes as it embedded itself in the wall.
Loid would have been concerned if the flash of danger hadn’t sent his arousal spiking to dizzying levels. He reached for Yor and brought her mouth crashing against his. Pulling her against him caused her slick cunt to glide over his cock and he screamed as he felt pre-cum spurt out of him.
“Loid?” Yor panted, “Are you alright?”
Loid struggled to catch his breath and find words to describe what he was feeling. “The only reason I haven’t cum yet is because you haven’t knotted me.”
Yor’s eyes light with a hot gleam. “If I knot you, can I bite you, too?”
Dates swam through Loid’s mind. When the mission would end…when he would next need to go off his suppressants…would he be around long enough to worry what people would think if his “wife” didn’t claim him, ensuring he would fixate on her during his next heat?
Yor traced the tip of her nail down Loid’s throat.
“Yes,” He gasped, barely through the word before Yor’s teeth were in her neck. He groaned, reaching up to cradle his head in her hands, but then her hands were on his wrists, pressing them back into the bed. He felt the burn of his skin tearing. His training tried to rise in his mind, but a tidal wave of pheromones bore it down.
Yor slowly opened her mouth. She had bitten so deep Loid could feel her teeth sliding free of his flesh. Loid felt a certain tension in him ease. Yor sat back on her heels, grinding against his cock. Her mouth returned to the space between his neck and shoulder and she bit down again.
A bolt of pain shot down Loid’s arm. He twisted against Yor’s grip on his wrists, but she held firm. She bit him once again and he felt the warmth of his blood spilling from the marks she’d left. Her hips were pressed hard against him, his dick pulsing against her pubic bone.
“Yor?” He managed, trying to understand what was happening. Surely this was overkill?
Yor slowly rose, blood smeared across her lips. Her gaze was narrow, pinning him down almost as well as her hands. She licked her lips. “Just making sure,” She said.
Loid’s trapezius stung and throbbed where she had broken the skin. “I-“
Yor kissed him again. He could taste his blood in her mouth. He could almost taste the pheromones pouring off her skin, could feel them coursing through his veins. He knew what Yor had just done was abnormal, but then she rose up on her thighs and sank down on his dick, and all thoughts fled his mind.
Twilight lived to serve. In this moment he knew he lived to serve Yor.
Yor brought his hands to her hips and allowed him to thrust up into her, sometimes rising his hips completely off the bed. Whatever thread of self-control Loid had until that moment had snapped. Yor gazed down at him as he slammed into her, idly pressing her fingers to the torn skin of his shoulder, making it sting and ooze.
Loid moved one hand to her pussy, fumbling for her clit. She batted his hand away and he made a noise he couldn’t have imagined coming from his throat twenty-four hours earlier.
“Please, please, I need your knot.”
Yor’s eyes went wide. The hot, detached look she had a moment earlier vanished. “Can you only cum when you’re knotted?”
“I need your knot,” He whined.
Yor smiled at him in a way that might have seemed condescending if he hadn’t felt so stupid and in need of her care. “Of course,” She said softly, and leaned down to lap at and nuzzle his torn skin before kissing him once more.
Loid sank into the kiss, sure that Yor would take care of him, and a moment later he felt her fingers between them. She kissed him harder, hips bucking, until her cunt tightened around him like a vise. Loid howled into her mouth, hands clawing at her back as his orgasm was milked out of his cock. He was a wild thing, not sure how he existed outside her kiss, her touch, her warmth enveloping him and soaking him in pleasure.
Loid wasn’t sure how long he lay on Yor’s bed, her body slumped against his, before he felt her knot ease. She rose enough to separate the two of them before laying flat on top of him.
“How do you feel?” She asked, stroking a hand over his cheek.
Loid turned to kiss her palm. “Good.” His head was clearer, though the pink haze of his heat hovered at the edges of his mind. This lucidity was temporary, but it was enough to remind him that his heat wouldn’t last forever.
“I’ve never had a heat go this well,” Twilight found himself saying. The few he had were endless fevers, endless aches, which broke to leave him cold and shivering. He felt so relaxed right now he could melt right into the sheets.
Yor propped herself up his chest to look at him better. “Really?”
“Not since I lost Anya’s mother,” Loid covered, smoothly. “It’s soothing to remember how good a heat can feel.”
“I see,” Yor said, and perhaps she saw too much, because there was distance in her tone that hadn’t been there before. She traced her finger over the bite marks on Loid’s shoulder. His flesh twinged in dismay, but he breathed through it. There were parts of himself he could never show to Yor, so maybe it was only fair that there were parts of her that he was unable to see. Shadows that fled when he tried to study them under his well-lit microscope.
Yor flopped against Loid’s chest. “I can’t imagine what I’m going to make for dinner. I used up all my cooking energy making breakfast!”
Loid laughed, his melancholy thoughts slipping back under the surface of his cover and the warmth of his heat. All Twilight had to do right now was ride out this unfortunately time-consuming biological quirk, and all Loid had to do was help his wife put together a good beef stew. For a moment, they both were happy.