Done For Love

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the first chapter in a slow (keyword: SLOW) burn cheating/corruption story with elements of noncon. Consider yourself warned if any of that makes you uneasy. Also, this is my first story on this site, so any constructive feedback on my writing is very much appreciated.

Thanks for reading!

===

It should've been a perfect day for work.

The office was just as Flin liked it. He couldn't hear any of his coworkers' voices past the usually too-thin walls, and the air was still crisp with lemon-scented cleaner as it always was after weekends. Rays of sunlight cascaded through the open window onto perfectly vacuumed carpet, giving life to an otherwise corporate pattern of assorted grays. While the weeks ahead surely had nothing but chaos in store for him, right now, his room knew nothing of it.

Despite that, Flin only found himself staring up and down between his computer and the tablet in his knees, stylus hovering idly as a blank page glared back in blinding white. The room was quiet, but he somehow found it unbearably loud. The wall clock ticked incessantly. The air conditioner droned endlessly. Even outside among the clear, blue sky and verdant treetops, cicadas screeched their summer song, ruining what was supposed to be a beautiful afternoon. They insisted on distracting him -- on making damn well sure he couldn't work.

...Although work, too, was just a distraction from everything else in the end.

Flin laid the tablet and stylus back on his desk and leaned back in his chair. His eyes ended up wandering anywhere in the room that wasn't his screen, as they so often did when he couldn't concentrate. They found the bookshelves lining the wall and lingered on the trinkets inside. Certificates and trophies won by the company, his own graphic design degree -- he'd once relished in their mere presence, but now, they hardly seemed to matter.

He regretted looking away instantly. His eyes landed on his desk again, then quickly the pictures he couldn't bear to get rid of. Graduations. Vacations. High school, college, beaches, mountains.

In a desperate attempt to escape the memories, his eyes flicked to another picture, one where his best friend's beaming face was nowhere to be found. In it, he saw himself, fully suited and a year younger, standing next to a jaw-droppingly gorgeous brunette wearing a white bridal dress.

How he'd managed to marry Irina, he honestly still didn't know, but looking at the picture now, he at least had a better idea. His hair was longer and fuller, his smile warm and genuine. Crazy how much could change in just a year. He was twenty-seven, but he bet he looked far beyond his twenties by now. Not like Irina, who had never aged a day. Her face was bright and beautiful in that picture as it surely was this very moment.

...God, he wished he could just go back and be with her already.

As he thought this, the door creaked open.

"Hey, Flin! Sorry for the intrusion, just wanted to check on today's-"

The deep voice trailed off as Flin snapped around in surprise. Under the threshold stood Tray -- a tall, stocky man who, despite his age and status, still wore a tacky sports suit and striped blue tie. He leaned on the door frame, glancing at the blank screen on Flin's desk with a hint of pique in his eyes.

"You could've knocked," Flin muttered.

"I did."

The office sank into stillness as he found himself unable to find anything else to say. The two looked at each other, faces indiscernible, until the intruder broke the awkward silence with a sigh.

"Flin, I hate to tell you this, but I need to be honest. If this keeps happening..." he started his warning, but at the sight of Flin's worn expression, he didn't finish it. Clearly, he'd been expecting this conversation. "Look. We all know you're hurting, and I never knew you as well as Kanan did, okay? But if this is still so raw for you, why are you still coming in right now?"

"Force of habit, I guess."

"Well, go on and take an early weekend. You need it, and we need it. You're our best designer. You're in our name, for god's sake, remember? It's KF Designs for a reason."

Flin didn't really know how to react to the gesture of kindness. If it hadn't been Tray giving it, he'd probably have been much happier about getting home early today. He would've appreciated it. Hell, he'd just been daydreaming about it. But of all the people he knew, this man wasn't one he was too ecstatic to be getting favors from. He nodded at the offer and forced a weak smile, waiting for the catch.

"On one condition, though!" his boss exclaimed on cue, throwing up a boisterous finger. "Let me join you for dinner tomorrow, or sometime this week, at least. We can't be strangers forever. I mean, how long've we both been here, now?"

"...Of course. Tomorrow's fine for us."

Of course. Of course that was what he wanted.

As he picked up his bag and hurried for his escape, Tray caught him by the shoulder at the door. His smile looked painted on. "Sounds like a plan, then! I'll be there tomorrow at six thirty. Just send me an address when you can. Don't worry about things here in the meantime. I'll close up for you."

The poor designer nodded halfheartedly in thanks. When the much larger man let go of him, he reached the end of the hall in seconds flat.

And so, Flin Manueli's work week came to an early end.

For his boss, however, it was just getting started.

Peering down the hall to make sure Flin was gone, Tray slipped into the room and shut the door behind him. He walked right by the bookshelves, plaques, and degrees, paying no mind to anything Flin held dear. To him, the sunlit carpets beneath and lemon-scented air all around were no different from any other part of this crummy old building. He sneered at his earlier excuse of "closing up" as he stopped by Flin's desk, sorting through the pictures neatly lined up by the monitor. The milestones, memories, and friendship that idiot shared with the old boss... The history of this company...

He didn't give a shit about any of them. Not even a little.

No. Only one picture here truly caught his eye:

The woman in a bride's dress.

He'd first spotted her at the old boss's funeral and hadn't been able to get her stunning body out of his mind since. Her hourglass figure held small, perky tits above a thin waist, and her hips, cut off enticingly above the bottom of the photo, stretched her fabric much too tight for a wedding. As he stared at her, he could only imagine her turned and bent over, dreaming of how irresistible her ass surely looked under that dress. Even more unbearable was her face: smiling, innocent, and unaware of just how her glossy lips, milky skin, and big, brown doe eyes tempted.

The perfect target.

The kind veneer Tray wore slipped off his face as he cracked a devious grin. The old boss dying had been a tremendous stroke of luck. Back when he was around, he'd been held back from misbehaving like this -- stopped, restrained, and then lambasted, only saved by money. No more. Now, with him gone, he could take what he wanted, act as he pleased. Knowing this, he leered on at the new object of his desire, hand resting on the growing bulge in his pants.

He couldn't wait to meet her.

===

"Breathe in... Breathe out."

Irina Manueli closed her eyes and followed the calm woman's voice through ethereal music. Though she couldn't see the sun room around her at all, she felt the day's warmth shining onto her skin from every direction, evaporating the tension as she sat with her legs splayed wide open and bent all the way to the floor.

She'd only started yoga a few weeks ago after a mutual tip, but with a lifetime of gymnastics experience, the movements and poses came naturally, so much so that each gentle instruction from the woman felt nostalgic. It brought her back to those times as a kid when she thought a split was impossible, back before the competitive world molded her. Now, these were little more than fundamentals she'd perfected long ago.

She was surprised how much she liked it anyway. It was just as therapeutic as her friend had suggested, not like the strict sport that sought to beat all enjoyment out of her. Besides, despite its ease, yoga somehow still surprised her. Every once in a while, she'd stretch somewhere she'd never worked before -- a sudden pull in the shoulders, a hitch in the lower back. It was why, despite everything, she bothered doing any of this. Even after being so diligent all her life about flexibility, she could never be ready enough for what counted.

She found an especially tight spot in the small of her back as she crossed one leg behind her for a full split, and she hummed to herself as she felt it unwind. She swore she even heard it rip a little, but she dismissed the idea, feeling no pain at all.

Just as she settled back into a resting position on her side, the doorbell beckoned her from across the house, snapping her eyes open. The sun room flickered back into view, separated from the bright outside world only by glass and a thin, white frame. The woman and music continued on as if nothing had changed, urging her to stay, but Irina regretfully silenced them both with a tap of her phone.

On her hurried way through the house, she made sure to peek into one peculiar door just before reaching the living room. The space inside was dark save for a few rays of sun peeking through the closed curtains, but it was enough for her to see everything was nice and tidy. It had been a year now since they'd set the crib up, and she'd be damned if she let even a single speck of dust get in.

Just a little longer, she reassured herself.

She pulled away from the nursery, finally crossing the living room to the front door. As she stood in front of it, pausing with her hand on the handle, she sighed to herself. She couldn't help but wish it was Flin waiting for her, but that definitely wasn't the case. It was an afternoon and a weekday, and his weekdays were unbearably long. Still, she could always hope he'd take it easy one day.

Especially now.

With that hope in her heart, she pulled the handle the rest of the way, sun breaking through the dimly lit house-

And her hope was squashed once again.

"Hi, ma'am!"

The man standing on the other end of the door was not her husband but a delivery man holding a small box. Actually, delivery boy was probably more accurate. He was a little cute, she'd give him that -- tall and dark with a baby face that always sported a confident, beaming smile. He likely had no shortage of experience with college girls his age. That said, his blue uniform ate up his lanky figure so much it made him impossible to take seriously.

"Hi, Jamie!" she replied with well-practiced enthusiasm. She somehow never expected him to show up, but handling him when he did was easy. "Another package, is it?"

The boy stammered a bit at her polite but short response, fumbling with the box in his hands as if he'd forgotten it was there. "Oh, yeah! Here. Figured it was too small to leave on the porch and all. Wouldn't want someone to get any ideas, right?"

Irina wanted to roll her eyes as she accepted the package -- anyone could see how ridiculously affluent this neighborhood was -- but she indulged his efforts anyway with a laugh.

Jamie was a face she'd had to get used to over the past year or so. She didn't remember when she first saw him -- or worse, when he'd first taken an interest in her -- but ever since she moved here, he basically never missed an opportunity to "deliver" things like this, always meeting her at the door where a normal person would have just left the delivery on the porch. Sometimes, he rang the doorbell just to see her even if he didn't have anything to give. His persistence did bother her a little at first, coupled with the fact he called her "ma'am" even though he couldn't have been five years younger than her. After she dropped the existence of her husband on him and saw no change in his behavior, she considered ratting him out with a complaint. However, she didn't really want the trouble, and at the end of the day, his flirting was always polite and simple enough to take in stride. No need to ruin a kid's life over some daydreaming. Besides, she couldn't deny it was a little flattering sometimes.

"I must say, ma'am... You must be sick of hearing this by now, but you're looking fine today," Jamie went on. His eyes darted beneath hers, stealing a more indecent glance at her before flicking up in a rush. They flashed with panic and then relief at her apparent lack of reaction. Of course, she had caught him just as she did every guy who looked, but she couldn't really blame the male gaze in this case. In her hurry to get here, she'd forgotten she was still in her crop top and yoga pants.

"Oh, get out, you!" she bantered, this time letting herself roll her eyes. "Thanks for the package, but I don't think my husband would appreciate that."

"Don't you?"

Her face hardened instantly at the brazen escalation. He clearly picked up on the shift, chuckling nervously as he backed off a step or two. While she was willing to play along somewhat, her actual boundaries never changed, and honestly, she wasn't in the mood to be polite about those today. Still, seeing his puppy-like dejection, she let him slide with a warning. "You be on your best behavior from now on. I have things to do, alright? Have a nice day, Jamie."

His face lifted a little, though not enough to fully hide his disappointment. "...Of course, of course. You, too, ma'am."

Without wasting another moment, Irina smiled weakly at him until she closed the door between them. The instant he was out of sight, the smile vanished, and a heavy breath escaped her. She practically fell onto the couch in the living room and began chipping away at the box tape with her fingernails, too lazy to walk to the kitchen for a knife as a mixture of irritation and guilt warred in her head.

He was nice.Everyguy was nice to her.

She pried beneath the tape with an extra aggressive jab, fed up with its resistance. The worst part of being her was that ultimately, it wasn't anyone's fault she got so much attention from men. Such was nature. That didn't change just because she had a husband, nor did the fact that eyes would always wander. Her "unique" figure tended to make sure of that. Put plainly, she had a big...well, very big butt, something made far more obvious by her small bust and even tinier waist. No amount of baggy clothing ever seemed to be enough to hide it. In college, she just stopped trying altogether. It hadn't taken long for her to snatch her shy work crush up after that, and she slept in his house and bed to this day.

Still, every time she was on the brink of thinking her bottom-heaviness was a blessing, something happened to remind her it was also a curse. Turning heads, instinctive glances -- those, she could forgive. But even if Jamie himself was harmless, why couldn't guys like him take a hint? Even back when she was just dating Flin, she'd dealt with them: men who took her already being taken as some sort of challenge. They never listened, too entranced by the oh-so-glorious sight of her ass to realize she had no interest whatsoever. Maybe they'd succeeded in getting other women to cheat on their partners, but to Irina, it was just stupid. What about hurting someone you loved -- or getting someone to do it -- was a turn on?

She ripped the box open all the way, revealing an even smaller one wrapped in plastic. It was what she'd ordered, alright. She smirked, allowing herself a moment of playful cruelty toward poor Jamie. He hadn't known he'd delivered her pregnancy tests to her.

The little triumph only lasted a few seconds. Before long, she'd flopped back on the couch with the tiny box to her chest, suddenly missing Flin a whole lot more.

She wracked her mind, desperately searching for something she could do to help him. She wanted to comfort him, really make him feel better, but how? Food? Quality time?

Sex?

Was any of that the cure? After losing Kanan like that? She hadn't even known the man all that well, but anyone could tell the two were brothers in all but blood. They built a whole company together, for god's sake.

Compared to that, what had she done?

It was so unfair. Their married life together had barely just begun, and she already felt so helpless. No matter what she thought of, she had no idea what to do.

Before she could sink deeper into that vicious train of thought, a light knock at the door pulled her out. She bolted upright and stormed over, huffing in exasperated anger as she glared at the doorknob again. She could handle Jamie once, but if he was back for more, so help her, she'd stop being so...

She yanked the door open, and her heart and mind both stopped as if slamming into a wall. She blinked twice, thinking her eyes were failing her, but no -- it reallywasFlin standing there this time. He wasn't the tallest man alive, but it wasn't hard to be taller than her. Somehow, that made his stubbly face and frizzled black hair all the more irresistible in her eyes. Looking at him now in that suit, she felt like she was back working in that cafe five years ago, reliving the moment she'd fallen in love with him...

As always, though, that memory faded in an instant, replaced by his unbearable real state. His suit was disheveled with his white undershirt untucked on one side. His arms hung limp from his shoulders, and his whole body slouched slightly under an invisible weight. Worst of all was his smile. The corners of his lips didn't reach his ears, and sunken shadows dragged his tired, blue eyes down like anchors.

Despite all that, he was beautiful, and Irina loved him.

After staring up at him in a daze for an instant, she threw her arms around his shoulders and pulled him down into a hard kiss. He let out a little startled grunt, but she didn't let him go until she was through with him. It served him right for worrying her so damn much. "Flin! You're...You're back! So early!" She tried to sound angry, but her elated stammering gave away her relief. "What happened? Is everything alright? Why didn't you call me?"

He grinned a little more genuinely, making her heart skip another beat. "...Surprise?"

She raised an eyebrow. Ever the terrible liar.

Before she could form a response, she realized with embarrassment that both of them were still out on the front porch, and while no one seemed to be watching from any of the other houses, their scene was still in plain sight. Grabbing Flin by the collar, she marched back inside and closed the door a final time before turning to him again to give him a scolding--

God, he was so hot in this lighting...

She shook her head and spoke firmly. "You're hiding something from me. I can tell." He tried to look away from her, but she caressed his face back toward hers with a hand. "Come on, babe. I know things are hard. Work can't be easy for you right now. What happened?"

Flin's eyes looked both sad and conflicted at once, wincing as if he was holding himself back from saying something. Irina, in turn, moved her hand to his trembling arm, trying again to reassure him everything was okay. She sighed, reassuring herself, all the while failing to notice the effect her own touch had onhim.

"Please. I hate seeing you like this. You can talk to-mmmmph!"

Her voice was cut off as, all of a sudden, Flin dove forward and mashed his lips into hers. His hands slid down to her waist, and in her shock, she mewled into the abrupt kiss. Her head became a fog as she tried to process it. Eventually, she let her mouth mould to his, heart racing, before pushing him away. She couldn't say she minded this new boldness of his, but what on Earth had gotten into him?!