Chapter Text
Any attempt at trying to hide her injury went out the door the moment she passed through it.
Anya just looked at her, and practically shouted, “Mama got shot in the butt!”
Yor frantically shushed her, watching as Loid turned with his automatic reprimand on his lips before his eyes widened as her words sunk in.
“You got shot?” he whispered, his voice cold with a horror that made her squirm.
“It’s nothing,” she lied, smiling unsteadily, “Just a flesh wound,” one that left her butt throbbing to the beat of her heart, but still…”It’s fine, Loid. I was even able to get groceries!”
That seemed to be the wrong thing to say, as Loid only looked more hurt.
“It’s not nothing,” he said quietly, taking the groceries from her and placing them in the fridge, leaving her standing there awkwardly, a wide eyed Anya’s gaze swiveling between them like she was spectating a tennis match.
“Loid-,”
“Go to your room, Yor,” he whispered, cutting off her protests and sending a bolt of lightning down her spine, mixing with the pain to create something… odd at its base. “I’ll be in there in a moment to help you with the wound,”
Yor nodded, turning away and wincing with each step. She lingered by the door just long enough to hear Anya speak.
“Is Mama in trouble?”
“No…no she isn’t,” Loid sighed, “I just get…worried, sometimes,”
It’s a startling admission, one that briefly distracted her from the pain.
“Are you gonna help her with her butt wound?”
Yor felt her cheeks start burning.
“Well-I-,” he spluttered, “Go watch Bondman,”
Yor took the opportunity to duck into her room, still reeling at the idea he’ll have to touch her…
Touch her…
—
…Her butt.
He’d have to touch her butt.
This was fine. This was completely fine. They’d treated each other’s wounds before.
Reluctantly, she pulled down her pants…preparing herself for him.
She winced, either at her phrasing or the pain as she pulled her pants over her wound, hiking up her blouse so Loid would have…access.
She lay flat on her bed, a bunch of towels underneath her, and waited.
Eventually, she heard a knock.
“Yor? Are you ready?”
“Yes, you can come in?” she stuttered, listening as the door opened, before suddenly slamming shut.
“Loid?” she perked up, her mind racing, “Is everything-,”
“Everything’s fine, Yor,” Loid reassured, his voice tight, “I was just…surprised,” he cleared his throat, “Could you…could you move to the edge of your bed? I need better access to the wound,”
She nodded, shifting until she was laying sideways in bed, halfway off the mattress with her feet touching the ground. There was pain as she moved, but it was nothing compared to the molten embarrassment running through her at the sheer obscenity of her pose, presenting herself to him with only panties preserving her modesty.
“I’ve already treated the wound,” she said shyly. “I know it’s a little rudimentary, but-,” but perhaps, if she’d spoken up earlier, she wouldn’t be…here.
“A second look never hurts,” Loid said breathily, his hand coming to rest at her hip.
Her skin practically caught fire, but all she could do was shiver and bite down on her tongue from moaning.
“I’m going to treat your wound,” Loid said, “It’s going to sting. Would you like something to dull the pain?”
She saw a handle of whisky appear in the periphery of her vision, but paid it no mind.
“I can handle the pain,” and she was a particularly active drunk. And cuddly. And a little…impassioned.
She didn’t want to kick him. Or tell him to pull down his pants so they matched. Or pull down his pants herself and ride him, injury be damned.
He accepted her reason, and got to work.
The burn of an alcohol swab swept across her injury, and she squeaked.
“Yor?”
“It’s fine,” she said tightly, “It’s fine,”
There was a pause, but he returned to work, cleaning up the blood and redressing her wound with a swift efficiency. But the feel of his hands became too much, and she started to squirm.
Then his hand landed on her back, just above her pantyline, pushing her into the mattress. Not too hard, just enough to keep her still, but she’s suddenly too preoccupied trying to keep herself from cumming to move.
“I’m sorry for worrying you,” she whispered, breaking the silence.
He paused, his hand still burning against her lower back.
“I’m sorry for overreacting,” he said, blowing out her bac- his breath, “I know you’re tough. I know you can handle a gunshot. But this, what we are, is just so new. I guess I’m just…scared of losing you. I…have been for a while,”
“I feel the same,” she mumbled, burying her now burning face into the mattress. His point was immaculate. They’d danced around each other for years by this point, and the fact that they were actually together, entangled in this confusing, risky thing where they were married but just dating, raising a daughter but having barely touched each other in an… intimate way.
She got it.
“I’m done,” he announced, and she heard his retreating footsteps.
“Thank you,” she said, shuffling back onto the bed.
“Anytime, Yor,” he said warmly.
Her door clicked shut before anything more could be said.
She sighed, getting up to discard the bloody blankets and soiled clothing, and took the painkillers her husband had so thoughtfully left on her nightstand.
—
She could not sleep that night.
At some point, her hand slipped between her legs, a finger swiping at sensitive lips and sending a shiver up her spine. She’d done this before, getting herself off to thoughts of her husband, even before this arrangement had progressed to marriage, much less romance. It was nothing new.
But tonight, the memory of his gentle hands haunted her like her first kill had for months afterwards. They were familiar and foreign all at once, calluses she was well acquainted with out of place on the skin of her thighs and butt, but not unwelcome.
She remembered the feeling of his hand splayed across her back, the pressure pushing her down into bed.
One of her fingers slipped into her core, already soaked in arousal. She wondered what Loid’s fingers would feel like in her place. They were thicker than hers. Or, maybe, or maybe, what would his dick feel like?
She’d known him long enough, been close enough with him even in a more platonic context to know he was big, at least to her limited reckoning. There’d be a stretch, even with how wet she was. He’d have to go slow at first, he’d probably hold her still, press her into the bed with that hand against her back as she literally writhed around his cock.
She added another finger, increasing her pace in concert with the man in her mind’s eye.
And, and he’d say things to her. In that voice he sometimes used, the one that rumbled up from his chest like a stormcloud, deep and low, one that wasn’t so much heard as felt.
But what would he say?
Would he call her a good girl? Shower her in praise like he always did? Whisper sweet nothings into her ear as he pinned her to the bed and fucked her?
Or would he call her a bad girl, so naughty for getting herself hurt and scaring him so much? Would he get rough with her, taking out all that anger born of worry?
She hoped he would. She hoped he’d pull her hair, or wrap a thick hand around her neck or, or maybe spank her.
Yes, yes he’d spank her. She could almost feel it, the dulled throbbing of her bullet wound repurposed into the sting of his heavy hand against her asscheek. And afterwards, she thought, furiously playing with her clit, afterwards he’d lean down to check on her-
And maybe, just maybe-
He’d call her his Princess.
“Loid,” she mewled into the sheet, before pulling up her nightgown to muffle herself. He’d do that too, muffle her moans so they wouldn’t accidentally wake their daughter, stuff her bunched up nightgown in her mouth as a makeshift gag as he had his way with her.
She had to make do with fucking herself as she imagined it, three fingers plunging into her into sex as her mind conjured the sound of his breath in chorus with hers, thumbing her clit as she felt the phantom press of his limbs and teeth against her shoulder blades and neck, molten pleasure building in her gut as she imagined the pressure of his hand on her back increasing as his hot breath blows across her ear-
Princess-
The thought of that name on his lips threw her over the edge of sanity and into the depths of pleasure. She abandoned the bunched up nightgown in her mouth and sunk her teeth into a nearby pillow, her body shaking as if to fall to pieces, the world reduced to flashes of white beneath her eyelids. After seconds, after eons, her shattered mind slowly pulled itself together, even as her body was rocked by aftershocks, her wound throbbing with a renewed force courtesy of her ministrations.
And yet she kept thinking about Loid, following her into insanity as it all became too much, falling across her body as he filled her-
No, no. Loid was a kind, thoughtful man who’d remember to wear a condom and make sure that entire encounter was safe and wonderful from beginning to end-
A starburst of pleasure thrilled through her at the idea of him caring for her, cleaning her off and rubbing achy muscles before tucking her in, and she finally mustered enough focus to take stock of herself. Her butt still hurt, but the pleasant ache between her legs was a nice distraction.
She rolled to the side and gasped in shock at the size of the wet patch she’d left in her wake, and nearly gasped again at the amount of slick coating her arm. She knew her fantasy had been intense, but hadn’t expected it to be that intense. She discarded her nightgown, itself sweaty and soiled, and wiped herself down, balling it up and depositing it deep in her hamper.
Tentatively, she stood on shaky legs, half expecting them to give way as she made her way to the wardrobe, grabbing another nightgown and something to throw over her soiled sheets. There was no replacing them tonight, so she emptied a bottle of perfume over the room to mask the unmistakable smell of sex. Loid would notice the odd smell, but she’d chalk it up to wanting to cover up the blood.
She collapsed into bed, flipping over the pillow as she found herself crushed under a sudden wave of exhaustion, replaying the lurid scene she’d choreographed into her head.
Vaguely, she promised herself that if, when her fantasies became reality, she’d make sure to repay him in kind.