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It's never been about love.
Or comfort
Or Connections.
Or even pleasure.
Sex was a means to an end to get information. To play a part that was expected of him to get them to let their guard down; and let slip valuable information between baited breaths and sweet touches.
Looking them in the eye as he lied.
Feelings didn't matter.
They never mattered.
Peace is what mattered.
Every word, touch is calculated. What does she like? what does he like? Sweet words murmured in acloves or closets, bedrooms hidden from their spouse. Just to get a taste of him, just to touch him and to give in with his honeyed words and sweet looks.
Then all to be left in a cold bed in the morning.
Gone from their lives like a ghost, never and truly never really being there in the first place.
The concept of "lovemaking" was foreign to him, sex was just a tool; a weapon. Genuinely wanting to be with someone with nothing at stake, to gain nothing outside of the release of pleasure, to be caught up and to be that entangled with someone; waking up in warm arms and lazy kisses against your neck.
Thinking like that got you killed.
Wanting more got you killed.
Got people who were depending on you killed, even if they never would know it.
So he doesn't want, expects nothing.
It's almost a relief that Yor doesn't like physical intimacy even if it provides problems in keeping up the married act occasionally.
So why does his hand burn when she accidentally touches him? His mouth is going dry when he sees her wear that red knitted pullover. Her back and neck were exposed as she tied her hair up in that bun.
Something she wore every day.
He's seen women in much scantier clothing that did nothing to him. Forced attraction was his specialty, a touch there a kiss here.....his discomfort didn't matter, never mattered and that's always how it been.
Until now.
This was anything but discomfort.
Maybe that's why he doesn't stop her when she pushes him against the wall. Her face red like her eyes, and he can't stop staring, his heartbeat in his ears even if her words are soft and muttered behind her hands and he can't hear her.
Like his heart would've let him in the first place.
"What did you say, Yor?" He says, shaking himself out of the stupor he somehow finds himself in. His hand came up and brushed her arm. She was wearing her nightgown, and her arms were exposed. Her skin is soft under his worn hands.
He swallowed.
"I-" she begins her eyes, looking to the floor before she takes a breath and looks at him again. "I want to k-kiss you, Loid." She stops, "just so I know how to answer my co-workers when... they ask how you kiss." She ends lamely as her hands come up and hide her face.
"I'm so so sorry!" She yells out, thankful that Anya is at her friends house. "I don't know what came over me! I iust..." she let's out a muffled groan.
Eyes wide as he watches her in the dim light, his mind racing with how this is good. How they need to do this, maybe it will help when her brother starts being nosey about their personal life.
It wouldn't hurt to give her some of the experience she obviously lacks for some reason despite being a beautiful woman.
His thoughts stop, and his fists clenched at his side. His eyes flicker around as he drinks in her appearance.
Maybe just once....
He stops.
No, this is for the mission. His jaw tightens. It's always for the mission that his desire do not matter.
Desire? The thought echoes in the back of his mind. What desire? Something to unpack here, something that's been gnawing at the back of his mind for months that he ignored and packed away with other useless feelings.
Would it be so bad that just for once, he does something selfish?
His selfishness is how everything was lost to him, even his own name.
His hands reach up and grabs her wrists. Yor stiffens, but she lets him bring her arms down so he can look at her face. He knows better than anyone if she didn't trust him in what he was about to do she would very well defend herself.
Though he would never give her a reason to do that.
"Yor...I.." he stops as his mind races, and his heart beats. Is he...nervous? Why would he be nervous? He's done this hundreds of times and was willing to kiss her months ago in front of her brother!
It's different now.
There is no audience, no pressure. Just her large red eyes staring at him like she's trying to read his mind, and her face is still red and mouth slightly open as if she's going to speak and break the spell.
So he kisses her.
Again, it's different.
She freezes, and he expects a kick, but slowly, she melts into the kiss. Yor's lips are hesitant, and he realizes that he is a little hesitant, like she would break or pull back, and regret would be written all over her face, maybe even disappointment.
They break apart, and it was barely a kiss, but Yor looks shyly away, and he's still holding her wrists in the air, but he can't take his eyes off of her, something wells up inside.
And he kisses her again.
This time, he doesn't let himself think as he drops her wrists or how her arms come up and wrap around his neck, her long fingers gripping at the hair at the nap of his neck, short nails dig into his skin.
She trembles.
His hands are at her hips and he clenches his fingers into her thin nightgown, steadying himself as she pulls him closer and they're stepping away from the wall until Yor is now pushed up against something, but the kiss doesn't break.
His heart pounds, and he can feel the warmth pool in his belly, and it's a strange feeling because there is no reason to do this.
If anything, it will ruin this quiet life he has built the last few months.
That's when he breaks away again, gasping.
"Loid?" Her voice soft, but his eyes are closed, clenched tightly like if he can will himself to sleep, and this will all be a dream.
Like the many dreams he has locked away.
"I can't," his voice breaks as he opened his eyes as he can feel his jaw clenched as if he's holding back words that not even he would understand if they were released. Her hand touches his cheek then, and he wonders why they're so rough, but he enjoys the sensation. He wants to relax into the touch and just breathe. He wants to put his head on her shoulder as she holds him and murmurs in his ear how she loves him.
He pulls away like someone has shocked him.
"Loid...I" she reaches out to him, concern painted onto her face, and her lips are wet and red, cheeks pink, and she's breathing slightly heavier. "I'm sorry...I.." she bites her bottom lip, then her hands clenched in front of her chest, dipping between her breasts.
He looks away.
"It's nothing, Yor." He smiles his practiced smile at her, and she looks at him strangely and steps forward, but he steps back. "We should sleep it's late." His heart is pounding, and there's static in his head.
She nods and looks away, so he leaves first it's only a few steps to his door. Looking back, he smiles and nods at her, and then he is gone.
He ignores the sound of her knock on his door.
But his back is against the door, and his sweaty palm is clutching the knob, but he just stands there and breathes eyes clenched shut that he sees stars behind his eyelids.
Kissing, hugs, sex they mean nothing in the life of a spy.
This whole family is a lie. Everything is a lie and means nothing. He will have to leave someday and move on to another mission, another lover.
His jaw clenches, and his heart won't stop pounding.
Kisses and sex are part of the trade. He has mastered them.
So why does it feel like the first time?
Why does he want more?
He isn't a stupid man, but maybe he will lie to himself a little more, pretend there is nothing wrong in the morning, and continue on as always until the mission is finished.
So he can forget.
Slowly, his other hand moves up and touches his lips, and he takes a deep breath in as his eyes open and look at the wooden floor; even though the room is dark with only the moonlight pouring in.
His hand tightens on the knob.
He never realized something could feel so good. That he could actually want more. That there is nothing to gain, nothing to steal or trick or lie.
That it could actually mean something for the first time in his life.
He turns the knob.
And the door opens.
And Yor stands there eyes wide in surprise as he grabs her thin wrist and pulls her into his room, she yelps in surprise as he pushes her against the door his face buried in the nap of her neck.
"L-Loid?" She says slowly, but her arms are around him, hands splayed against his back. And he breathes in her scent, just simple soap.
"Stay here." He murmurs, and he doesn't know why, "stay with me tonight." And he feels her body warm up, and he smiles, imagining the red blush against her cheeks, reaching down to her chest and shoulders.
"Is something wrong?" She says with her voice soft and full of concern, and he knows he needs to straighten up and laugh this off. He's losing his grip. But he doesn't and only just tighten his hands on her arms, nails digging into her skin.
"No." He mutters before swallowing his mouth feels thick before lifting his head and looking at her, eyes connecting and he feels she can read every thought and feeling racing in his mind, yelling at him to stop. Every fiber of his being wants to run, push back, and apologize because she deserves better.
His eyes widen at the thought.
She deserves better.
So he lets go.
"I'm sorry, Yor," and it feels like all he can do is apologize to her this whole night. His fists clenched at his sides, and he looked at her head on trying to guess what was going on behind those red eyes.
She kisses him.
And he is lost.
It's never been about love.
Or comfort.
Or Connections.
Or even pleasure.
But as his hand tilts her head pressing their lips together in a different angle, how her hands fist into his chest clenching the thin fabric of his night shirt.
He wonders... Maybe this is how it should be.
Or maybe it's just her.
At least that is what he wants to believe.