Done For Love

AUTHOR'S NOTE/CONTENT WARNING: This is the second chapter to a cheating/dubious consent/cuckold/etc. story. Consider yourself warned.

With that out of the way, happy new year and thanks for reading!

===

Irina woke up groaning as the rising sun lashed her eyelids from the window. She hadn't closed the blackout curtains all the way last night, too distressed to think about anything other than burying herself in deep sleep. Back then, she'd expected her mind to settle down on a digestible emotion by the morning. Maybe, she'd thought, her borderline hysterical anger at Flin would subside into something normal. Maybe she'd catch up with her relief and cry against his shoulder. Maybe, despite all odds, she'd even calm down completely.

Instead, she was horny.

She didn't understand why, but even in her waking grogginess, there was no mistaking the feeling. She lifted the covers slowly to check anyway. Sure enough, her panties were sodden, and the sensitivity beneath them gave away an agitation that had gone on through the night.

She dropped her head back on the pillow with a huff, and almost immediately, her hand idly wandered between her legs beneath the sheets. Before long, her eyes were closed as she breathed heavily, suppressing her light moans as she rocked her hips gently into her fingers. It was more an instinct than anything -- a deep itch she had to scratch. As she did, she opened her eyes and saw her husband next to her, face still and beautiful as always. He was sound asleep.

It was the same sight she had known ever since they started living together, but it hardly felt that way. He looked so calm it was hard to believe he was the same man she had constantly tried to comfort over the past week. He certainly wasn't losing any sleep over what happened last evening, either.

Why? Why was he only at peace when she couldn't talk to him? Was she enough?

As she agonized over all this, her hand never once stopped rubbing herself beneath the sheets. In fact, the more she stared at him, the harder she went, and the more difficult it became to quell her moans. Despite the heartache, despite the anger she still felt deep down, her growing heat this morning was so strong it overruled it all. It was the frustrated kind of horniness -- the kind that didn't care what else was going on. Given that Flin, the love of her life, was right there next to her, there was but one thing she could do to satiate it.

She nudged him to check if he was truly asleep, though her touch was purposefully too soft to wake him. Confirming his lack of reaction, she carefully crept under the sheets and found her way to his underwear, guided both by her intimate knowledge of his body and the dim morning light piercing through the covers. She kept working diligently between her legs with one hand as she pulled down his waistband with the other, watching intently as his length sprang free. As always, it was awake long before him. Its outline was nearly invisible in the dark, but in her entranced state, she could look nowhere else. Her face hovered closer unthinkingly, each breath washing over the naked, throbbing member right in front of her.

All she knew for sure was that right now, she wanted it in her mouth.

So, not wasting another moment, she parted her lips and took him in.

"Mmmmhhh..." Flin moaned from above, stirring in dreamy pleasure. Irina responded in kind with a moan of her own, no longer bothering to be quiet as she began bobbing her head. She matched her pace with her busy hand, and soon she had lost control altogether, her heat raging as she began to finish herself off in earnest.

God, what am I doing?

The thought was fleeting, gone as soon as she sank down further. Flin twitched as she locked her lips tightly around his shaft, his head brushing back and forth between her tongue and the roof of her mouth. Each pulse brought a precious drop of precum, all of which she lapped up without delay. The salty, musky taste only turned her on more, and she felt herself getting close. She wanted all he had before she came, though, and damn it all, she'd make him give it to her before that happened.

"Ugh... Huh...?Rina?"

She didn't slow down as she heard her husband finally wake up, solely focused on satiating her need. Even when Flin pulled the covers back from her, revealing her sucking him off diligently in the morning light, she only paused for a mere moment. Her eyes met his for a split second, piercing and demanding, before returning right to their task. He didn't stop her.

A few moments later, he thrashed inside her mouth, thrusting up reflexively and dousing her tongue with another dollop of clear seed. She, in turn, pulled away from him and held his torso down with her free hand. He was close, too, no doubt, and she did want his load, but she wasn't letting him off so easily. Her anger-fueled horniness wasn't so forgiving. This washermoment. For him, that meant punishment.

She stared up at him again as she began treating him more gently. His face looked tortured, on the agonizing brink of ecstacy. Good.

She focused on the head, which had grown swollen and red as it leaked a continuous trail of precum. She licked it all up before smothering his skin with her lips, reveling in the dirtiness of it all -- especially the sounds she made. Suckling, kissing, popping, moaning. The lewd, wet drag of her tongue rolling slowly around the cap. Whenever Flin began to tremble and breathe intensely, she would stop her treatment and simply wait. By the time he settled down, there was always a fresh supply of precum for her to clean up again, and she started over.

She almost lost herself in how long she repeated this cruel cycle for. Seconds? Minutes? She couldn't tell, but she kept it going for as long as she could before, finally, her own pleasure reached a breaking point. She locked her lips around him, sucking as hard as she could as she lashed her tongue up and down the head. Predictably, this made Flin groan harder, and not soon after, he came straight into her mouth.

The potent taste fell on her tongue in steady pulses, and it sent her over the edge, too. She moaned around his throbbing skin, hips bucking uncontrollably into her sore hand as her whole body took with shivers from head to toe. Somehow, she maintained enough free will during the powerful orgasm to keep attacking her clit beneath her panties, trying to ride it out as long as she could. As she did, however, her mind, still not fully awake, began to wander without her consent, overcharged by the intoxicating experience of her husband's climax aligning with her own.

They found a flicker of a memory.

A shock. A skipped breath at something strong and irresistible pulling her in -- not in embrace, but in possession. Keeping her there.Holdingher there. Rough, firm hands gripping the small of her back, holding her against a toned body and a huge... growing...

Her orgasm erupted again. The pleasurable shiver became a violent, animalistic shudder, and her back arched without warning, pushing her ass against something invisible in the air. Her hand, unable to keep up with the overwhelming feeling, fell limp and useless to the mattress, covered in her own juices. Meanwhile, her face remained firmly planted on Flin's crotch as she sucked and moaned helplessly against his manhood. It was long since spent now, but she barely registered his poor cries for mercy. It was her only tether to reality.

Eventually, the feeling subsided enough for her to regain control of her movements. Drool trailed down her chin as she caught her breath and locked eyes with her love in shared confusion. He clearly didn't know what had gotten into her, and she sure as hell didn't either, but right now, she let herself enjoy the afterglow anyway. She couldn't remember an orgasm that intense in recent memory, and even as the heat slowly evaporated, little sparks of bliss caused her to tremble long after the fact.

She looked down at Flin's softened dick again, his taste still lingering on her tongue. He'd also cum more than she'd ever witnessed, though she had swallowed it all in her unthinking euphoria. She briefly lamented not taking it inside her where it counted, but she dismissed the idea just as fast. This hadn't been a passionate, romantic experience -- certainly not fit for loving conception. She'd simply lost control.

Realizing this, the last traces of her morning horniness faded away. As one last middle finger, it took the high of the moment with it, leaving only frustration. Anger, distress, worthlessness -- those were all still there after yesterday, and each of them whispered into her mind about the vile thought that had invaded her when she came. She abruptly stood up to ignore them, but by the time she was dressed, it was too late. The guilt had already begun, and the day hadn't even started.

Not knowing what else to do, she headed for the bedroom door to get some fresh air. Flin's voice called out from behind her, still snug as a bug in bed.

"Rina-"

"I'm still mad at you."

===

Horny mornings became a regular thing over the week Flin spent off, and Irina quickly betrayed her decision not to have sex during them. She had just been prudish that first time -- well, as prudish as she could've been while sucking him dry.

In part, she justified it by telling herself she needed to be more ambitious in starting their family. She'd always wanted "the moment" to be romantic, but she couldn't afford to be so choosy in the way their first child was conceived. It had been a year, they had a forever home, and they both were on the other end of their twenties. She was ready for a kid. They both were.

That logic always came after the fact, though. In reality, in the moment, she backpedaled because sex on horny mornings felt so, so good.

For reasons she still couldn't explain, waking up had become a storm of unstoppable urge. It didn't matter how furious she was with Flin. Her skin tickled at his lightest touch. Her lips sought his body, coaxing out little reactions as they explored him. Her pussy, most of all, craved his attention no matter what. What she felt there on horny mornings now could no longer be called an itch. She burned deep inside. Every nerve of her crotch buzzed and ached, her womb radiating hot want like a hungry, dying star. Just grazing her outer folds with the tip of her finger made her gasp now, but maddeningly, her hands weren't enough anymore, either. She needed the real thing.

So, from the second morning onward, she turned to Flin and woke him up by sliding his dick inside her. He never once complained about this, of course, and she came all throughout the experience every time. Whenever he breached her, the burning fire within roared fully to life, driving her hips up and down until she rode him wildly. Minutes later, her climax would hit that second screaming high as she pressed herself down as hard as she could, grinding around to make his cock hit every spot she could, before he filled her up with the load she craved.

It wasn't the passionate lovemaking she was used to, and it never lasted long, but she didn't mind. Those mornings were overwhelmingly the best sex she'd ever had. Perfect, even.

...Almost perfect. That same stupid memory always resurfaced when she arrived at those leg-shaking orgasms -- the one of being held at the small of her back by an unrelenting grip. She always buried it immediately in turn, recoiling at whatever her brain was up to. The guilt was instant and much harder to bury. She would've been able to fully turn herself over to desire if not for that.

Just ignore it,she decided. That was the best she could do.

Once she managed to, she allowed herself to relax in Flin's arms as they prolonged the start of their day. She was sure by the fourth that she was thoroughly impregnated, and she hoped that much, at least, was getting through to him. Even if sex hadn't been a cure for him so far, perhaps the fact that he was capable of breeding her could give him a jumpstart to see sense.

The anger which sparked in her after that fateful dinner had settled into a quiet, fierce determination to reel Flin back to health by the end of his week off. Constant morning sex was only part of that. She cooked her very best breakfasts -- eggs benedict, biscuits and gravy, chicken and waffles, cinnamon rolls. She pulled him out on walks in their favorite park when he seemed down, the one where they'd shared their first kiss all those years ago. When reminiscing of the past inevitably drew him to tears, she brought him back to the house and drifted off to sleep with him on the couch, cuddling as he cried into her shoulder.

In her fury, she'd pulled out all the stops to do just about the only thing she could: remind him how much she loved and appreciated him. Body, belly, and soul. She'd force him to remember if she had to.

As far as the dinner with Tray went, it was a topic they'd silently decided to move on from, though she was still mad about it for sure. She just knew nothing good would come of bringing it up, and thinking of that man always led her mind back to that moment -- and then, of course, guilt, which she had to rebury. Besides, acting on love felt better than insisting on a grudge anyway. She wouldn't let anything get in the way of Flin getting better. Or anyone, for that matter. During one of their midday naps, Jamie knocked at the door to flirt, and she purposefully opened it just to show him her husband right in the living room. The creep didn't show up for the rest of the week.

She felt like she was banging her head against the wall at first. Like this was no different than anything she had done to help Flin before. But gradually, day by day, she did begin to notice changes. Even more passion in bed than usual. More appetite, and more plates cleared. Gentler downs, though they never quite went away. When the tears came during and after walks, there were less and less of them, and when she cuddled him to sleep, his slumber grew soft and content, not just vacant as he so often seemed in the mornings. The days became easier, and slowly but surely, she allowed herself to believe their relationship was going back to the way it used to be.

That was, until the dreaded day came when it was time for him to go back to work.

As he checked his bag and outfit by the open front door, the light outside poured in around him like a halo. She wanted to grab him by the wrists and pull him away. "You don't have to go..."

"I do, Rina," he rebutted softly. "If we want to keep all this, I really do."

There was real truth in his words. She just couldn't accept it, even now. She'd tried to bring her growing anxieties about his job up to him over the week, but every time she even insinuated he should leave KF Designs, he gave her the "deer in headlights" look, unable to even comprehend the idea. He wasn't ready for that talk. Not yet.

For now, Irina just let herself enjoy the smile he gave her as he left the front porch -- a testament to the past week's grueling effort.

"I'll text you when I get there."

"You better."

Without wasting another moment, he was in his car, and he was off.

Irina sighed to herself as she closed the door, smothering her discontent. Sure, Flin was gone in that place again. But it wasn't all bad.

Her period was supposed to come around yesterday. It still wasn't here.

Giving into her curiosity, she cracked open the box of pregnancy tests that had been laying on the coffee table since last week. Just the sight of the little devices inside scared her. How many times had she been here only to find disappointment? She didn't even want to consider the idea of hope, but her mind went through with it anyway.

Minutes passed. She paced around to make them pass quicker, but she didn't dare look at the device laying on the kitchen counter. Even when she was sure five minutes had gone by, she couldn't so much as twitch her neck in its direction.

Eventually, like diving into deep, cold water, she shut her eyes tight and snapped her head around with force. It was a battle to pry her eyes back open, but little by little she did, until at last-

One line.

She steadied her breathing, calming her mind. Denial came right away. This didn't mean anything. No. Maybe it was still too soon. Maybe another brand would do. She could try again in a few days.

She went on about her day thinking like this until Flin returned. When she saw him, the last of the hope she'd let in slipped away.

Slumped shoulders. Worn face. Eyes full of sadness.

All that hard work, down the drain after just one shift.

Both of them fell asleep quickly after a quiet dinner that evening, too exhausted to speak more than the bare minimum. Needless to say, she didn't tell him about the test.

As if to mock her, her period came early in the morning the next day.

===

"...Mr Paller? Mr. Paller?"

Tray snapped up from his desk, eyes refocusing on the pixie-like intern in front of him. Her scolding gaze brought him right back to high school, back when his teachers caught him zoning out in class over whatever hot piece of ass caught his eye that day. Admittedly, not much had changed since then.

...Except age, of course. The secretary standing across the desk was much younger than him -- a cute, bubbly grad student who went above and beyond to prove she deserved her position. He was far from surprised when he found out she gave really,reallygood head. "Uh, sorry, Maddie... You were saying?"

She sighed, but he knew from the slight smile at the corners of her lips that he wasn't really in trouble. "I was just wondering if that was all you had planned for the day. Do you want me to list your itinerary again, or...?"

"No no! That won't be necessary, Maddie. Please spare me..."

The two laughed off the incident, but Tray couldn't help but drift off into his thoughts again, eyes lingering idly on Maddie's tight ass as she turned away.

It had been just over a week now since he met Irina, and Flin had been back for two days. That meant two days of her home alone, fermenting in the memory he'd given her. Her, who would almost certainly do anything to help her husband... If he was going to act, it was now or never.

"...Actually, Maddie?" he called out. The girl twisted around, files clutched tightly to her flat chest as she awaited instruction. "Go ahead and call Flin over, would you please? And call up a meeting with the board while you're at it. I'm thinking we'll also need the B project done for tomorrow's presentation. Could boost our rep with CeraTech to give 'em the whole pitch at once."

"Really? I thought everyone only planned for A. Flin might not even have the file on..." she trailed off, her raised eyebrow settling down as realization dawned on her. A sly grin cracked across her face, and she circled the desk expertly before placing one hand on his shoulder. Her movements weren't overly suggestive, but they were far too close to be professional. Tray just smiled in response. The old boss's secretary had only beenofficiallyhis for just over two weeks now, but she already knew him well enough. "You really have seemed distracted lately. Any other projects on your mind?"

"Ha... Yeah, something like that."

"I can help you out, if you'd like..."

Her hand slid one or two centimeters down his jacket, her pinky rubbing lightly just above his chest. He clenched his fists, fighting the urge to give in as he tried to maintain his smile. He could feel his cock rapidly growing beneath the desk, and he didn't have to look at her to know she was looking, too. With every throbbing heartbeat, her hand trickled down just a little further, then further, then again...

No.He'd saved up since dinner last week just for this chance.