Loid was very good at putting pieces together. It didn’t take him long to figure the pattern out.
Yor preferred fucking him on the couch!
Of course, with a child in their home, they generally waited until Anya was fast asleep and kept things inside their bedroom with the door firmly locked. But Loid had been counting and whenever they were alone in the apartment, Yor maneuvered them onto the couch nearly 85% of the time.
The data pool was extremely large, so this was a very high percentage!
It wasn’t an especially big couch, surely they would be more comfortable on the bed? Why was Yor so obsessed with it?
“Y-or,” he gasped as Yor bit his throat, her knee pressing between his still-clothed legs. “Can’t we- ah! Move this to the bed?”
“Mm.” Yor stuck a hand down his pants and pressed a wet fingertip meaningfully against his hole, making him squirm. “In a minute.”
That meant “after she’d made him come at least once.”
He rocked against her finger as it pushed inside him, covering his mouth to keep an embarrassing whimper from escaping. She put another one in shortly after - mortifyingly, he was still loose from the night before, and then earlier this morning - and began working him with tender forcefulness. His vision went hazy and he squeezed his eyes shut, as if that would help him keep his jaw locked up tight as well. She cooed and sharply fucked her fingers into him, making him roll his head back with a muffled whine.
“ Cute, ” Yor whispered to herself, and Loid would never admit it made him shudder and clench around her. “Look at you, opening up to me so sweetly… If someone knocked at the door right now, you could try to put yourself back together, but they’d know…” She bit his burning ear. “You like it like this.”
Loid’s iron grip on his jaw faltered and he moaned. Yor gently pulled his hands away from his face and kissed him, true to her word, prying him open so easily. Her clever fingers twisted and played him until his thighs were shaking, a bitter heat building behind his eyes.
So that was what she liked about the couch, he realized when his brain came back online. She could see their front door from where she straddled him.
Safe, inside their own home, but just on the border of danger. Out in the wide open space of the living room without the security of a bedroom door.
Was the front door even locked?
He hadn’t noticed. He’d just followed wherever Yor wanted him and trusted her judgment. It hadn’t even occurred to him to consider the consequences of being so unprotected in such a vulnerable moment.
What kind of spy was he, slipping so obviously like this?
Yor reached inside him and chased his pleasure with singleminded focus. His house pants were thoroughly ruined, his dick drooling obscenely underneath the fabric. This only encouraged her. She pressed in deep, deeper, pulling the string of his spine into an arch of tension as he trembled on the edge of the precipice. Then with a fatal strike she cut the cord and he collapsed into himself with a pathetic cry, his overactive mind flicking off into complete silence.
She kissed his eyelids, his cheeks, his nose, his chin. He mumbled something incoherent and, laughing, she kissed his lips.
Well, what kind of husband would he be if he didn’t trust his wife?