Done For Love

CONTENT WARNING/AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the final chapter to a cheating/NTR story. It has the most action so far and can be read on its own just for that, but it does work better with the context of prior chapters. Of course, if the subject matter is not for you, as always, this is your chance to turn back!

Thanks for reading!

===

As much as Flin was looking forward to it, the Saturday of the Christmas party arrived without fanfare. The sun peeked through the swaying blackout curtains like it always did early in the morning, and the space heater hummed along next to their bed, working overtime to keep him and his wife safe from the cold.

Once again, he had woken up before she did.

He smiled at her peaceful, sleeping face, brushing a loose strand behind her ear. This wasn't always how it used to be. Until just a few weeks ago, she was the one who was always awake by the time he came to, greeting him back to the waking world like an angel.

She stirred at his touch, groaning in protest over her slumber coming to a slow end. She'd been so exhausted all the time lately -- she tried to hide it from him, but he knew. Whenever he was around her, he could see it in the occasional stumble, notice it in her drooping eyelids and nodding head when she thought he wasn't looking.

It reminded him a little of the lethargic days she'd had during her months of wild mood swings, only all the time now. That said, it wasn't exactly the same -- she was actually more intimate than usual around him, and their sex was better than it had ever been. The outside force he thought he'd felt influencing her a while back was nowhere to be found anymore, which did comfort him.

He'd actively decided not to worry about that sinking feeling in his stomach anymore. He would trust his wife, and that was it. Her lie about Tray, the odd ways he'd been acting, that time in the office -- he dismissed it all. Paranoia was the last thing he needed, and lo and behold, life seemed to reward him for not being suspicious. He couldn't remember a time in their relationship when they'd been closer.

Still, it killed him to know something was up. He never asked about it out of respect -- and to avoid paranoia -- but he wanted to understand.

Her eyes cracked open, bleary and dilated from a fleeting sweet dream. She smiled faintly at him as her hand embraced his own on her face, rubbing a thumb over his knuckles as she always did. He smiled back.

Of course. She'd already told him, hadn't she?

It was about the baby.

Trying to start a family had been more stressful than Flin ever could've imagined, and he was sure it felt even worse for Irina. This past week had to have been especially hard on her.

Frankly, he began to have doubts about his virility a while back. It started as a twinge in the back of his head, a possibility he laughed off as ridiculous. That was something that only happened to other men, he thought. The ones who'd done something wrong. He'd led a perfectly healthy life -- no drugs, no freak injuries or illnesses, nothing that would put his capability as a father in question.

But month after month, ovulation after ovulation, that twinge started to mount. Frustration came first. Nothing he tried worked -- cold showers, supplements, going a week or two without sex or masturbation to make his loads bigger. Humiliation followed. How could he not get his beautiful wife pregnant? How could he not fulfill the one explicit purpose nature had given him?

By around half a year after they married, every failed test came with heartbreak, and eventually, not even that -- just sad, resigned acceptance. He had to face the fact that something really was wrong with him. It was around this time, too, that he thought about seeing a doctor, but he couldn't bring himself to communicate this to his wife at first. He knew she'd be devastated. She still deserved to know about the possibility that he couldn't conceive, though. He didn't want to lead her on, to drag out a hopeless situation. So, he ultimately decided to tell her.

Then, Kanan happened. The months that followed were still a blur to him.

Even after somewhat recovering from the loss, however, that ugly reality never went away. It reared its head again last month like it had been patiently waiting, just another problem that insisted on interrupting his peace.

Truth be told, he thought enough time had passed since then for him to come to terms with it. He'd rehearsed exactly how he'd break the news to Irina every day.

When it came time to actually say it last week, he cried alongside her anyway.

After cuddling in bed just a while longer, Irina was the first to stand and start getting ready for the day. As she turned around bare in front of the bedroom vanity, Flin could only admire her figure from behind. Not one day had gone by where he hadn't thought about how lucky he was to have earned the affection of a woman like her. As a man, that just made it even harder to accept his own inadequacy, but no matter what happened, he would never stop loving her-

Was that...redon her asscheek?

He saw it -- he thought he saw it -- as she bent over to step in a crumpled-up pair of yoga pants: a bruise, faint as a whisper yet prominent above her milky skin.

She shimmied into the pants, and like a phantom, the redness vanished in the motion without a trace before the fabric swallowed up her voluptuous curves. He shook his head.

Thank god. Just the lighting.

She looked back at him topless, grinning as she playfully admonished him for staring. "Having fun back there? Don't you have a big party to get ready for?"

"Oh, you... That's not for hours. I can take my time..." he smirked. He got up, joining her face to face and taking her by the waist. It was true that he didn't usually have any work obligations on weekends, but they'd snuck in their fair share of quickies in the morning even when he had to work.

"Don't you go getting ahead of yourself, mister..."

"I'm not." That's what he said, but his hands slid down to her ass over her yoga pants, lightly palming her. He didn't feel a difference.

"Hey!" she squealed, giggling and writhing. "I just got in those!"

"Didn't look so hard."

She pushed away from him, though only enough to look back into his eyes. She looked...conflicted. He could feel her trembling -- a telltale sign she wanted the attention -- but again, for that same, nebulous reason, she hesitated. "We should wait."

"You sure? You said today was a good day..."

"It is. I just want it to be special." She traced a line on his chest with a finger, a sultry technique he'd never grown resistant to. "Besides, you'll be out for a while, right? It'll give you something to look forward to when you get back..."

He smiled down at her again, and they softly embraced, brows touching like courting swans. She was right, he supposed. They hadn't had any sex this week per her request, all in preparation for today. He'd even held himself back from masturbating again, too, even if that hadn't worked so far.

Her refusal to give up was his last shining light. As conflicted as she looked, she seemed so sure that this time, a miracle would happen. It was impossible to not be infected by such beautiful optimism. So, although he'd all but given up in his head, he played along and postponed the doctor's appointment he'd laid out for yesterday. How could he deny her this one last chance? If it bore fruit despite the odds, they'd finally have their dream, a child they would cherish more than anything. If not...

...Well, there were always options. They could adopt. Surrogacy wasn't off the table either. And if she was insistent on having his children, he had money -- surely he could come up with something, spend a pretty penny for some experimental program that would make a miracle. It would be worth it.

And if all else failed even then? They had each other. That, more than anything, was what mattered.

As he wordlessly got dressed next to her, he glanced over and saw her looking tensely into the mirror. It was a face he clearly wasn't meant to see, and that killed him inside. Hopeful as she was, the fact that he'd even mentioned the possibility of his own impotency still weighed heavily in her mind.

Even so, he pretended not to see and didn't say anything. He was sure what he had planned for today would lift her spirits right back up regardless of whether or not they succeeded in conceiving.

They spent most of the day as they did most off days: cuddling, watching TV, staring into each other's eyes... They'd just crossed the six year anniversary of their time in life together, and he still hadn't gotten bored of it. He couldn't imagine that ever happening. Still, unlike their normal Saturdays, he eventually had to get back in his work clothes and drag himself to the front door after dinner. As he stood there suited up and ready to go, his wife never once took her eyes off him, staring apprehensively.

"Are you sure you have to go...?" she mumbled, rubbing his arms. He could feel her trembling, and when he looked closely, he saw her jaw quivering too, face on the verge of tears.

"Rina... What's this about?"

She sighed. "Nothing. We were just having such a great day is all, and now..."

"Please. Like you said, I'll be back," he soothed, wiping her eyes before the tears could fall. "Would you rather come with me?"

She puffed a laugh at him, and he laughed awkwardly with her, though he was secretly not all that opposed to the idea. Figures she wouldn't want to go. Even if he'd been taking strangely long lunch breaks as of late, Tray would almost certainly be there. The yearly Christmas party, while not required, was not something anyone at the company could miss, let alone the CEO. The social damage from that alone would get you on the board's shitlist.

Whatever. None of it would matter after today.

He stepped out onto the front porch, his sleeve slipping from his beloved's fingers.

"Well, I'll text you when I get there and when I leave. Love you." He didn't really consider the words as they came out. They just naturally did at this point, reflexively, like an obvious fact.

She responded to them in kind. "Love you too."

They nodded at each other, and he kept walking, steps crackling further and further down the gravel. On his way to his car, however, Irina's voice stopped him in his tracks again.

"Flin?"

He turned, eyebrow raised, to see her cupping her hands around her belly, fidgeting nervously. She stunned his gaze from afar with doe eyes to die for. "Yes, Rina?"

"Iloveyou."

The way she emphasized that word sent a shiver down his spine. Despite how much they both said it, it held more weight than normal. A meaning he couldn't quite place.

"I love you too," he replied in a daze. Before he could question any further, she waved him along and slipped behind the front door, leaving him speechless in the driveway.

Strange.Strange.

But that didn't change what he would do. Whatever had her so down, surely his early Christmas present would make her forget all about it. She hadn't noticed the letter he'd snuck out of their room, thankfully, and now it sat in the passenger seat, ready for one last journey.

As he started his car, he went over how he'd surprise her in his head for probably the thousandth time that week. He imagined her blubbering, that signature shocked face as he broke the news -- good news, this time.

She would probably complain. She might even slap him. But she couldn't fool him. Above all else, she'd be ecstatic.

He couldn't wait to be back.

===

Think of it as your Christmas present to him.

Over the week, that was what Irina kept telling herself as she tried to justify what she was about to do. Sitting on the couch now with her phone in her shaking hand, the thought repeated itself louder than ever.

Her reasoning was beyond twisted at this point, and she knew it. But frankly, she didn't care anymore. The nagging remains of what had once been her conscience had been possessed entirely by desperation and wanton desire, puppeted around by instincts that had gone completely haywire. Sometimes, they spoke in Maddie or Laila's voice -- others, her own. No matter what, though, they always arrived at the same conclusion:

She needed this.

And she'd gone too far to stop now.

Everything was in place. The truth was, she wasn't simply ovulating. She was at the literal peak of ovulation -- the apex of her fertility, a time when even one drop of seed in her womb was like a hair trigger for pregnancy. At least, that was how it was supposed to be. It hadn't turned out that way with Flin so far, but if it was him...

She shivered, and her heat drummed in tandem with her heartbeat as she stared at the contact, still unnamed after all this time. She didn't have to wait until this point in her cycle. The plentiful memories she had of condoms lined across his nightstand, each filled with that dense, solid white, were a testament to that. She just didn't want to leave a single inch of room for doubt, and, well...right now, there was none. Somehow, she'd convinced her husband to hold off on sex until this evening, and she had essentially ghosted Tray the entire week. The cheeky bastard didn't even try to contact her -- he was probably well aware, as he always was, that she was leaving herself hanging, not him. She didn't even touch herself over the days.

It had been torture to not have any sources of relief, that was true. Just thinking straight in the thickening haze of irritated horniness was a feat in itself. In her current state, however, it was also easier to bear knowing exactly what reward awaited her for enduring it. Every time her pussy begged for attention, she was able to appease it for once in a language it understood -- the promise of ultimate pleasure, the orgasm of all orgasms, the magical moment which had been so out of reach until now.

She thought she'd be ready when the day was here. Indeed, her heart pounded, and her mind raced. Even so, she still stopped Flin at the door. Perhaps it was nerves, paranoia, or something else entirely. Perhaps, despite all she'd done to eradicate it, a shred of guilt had survived after all this time. As she stood there looking at him, whatever it was whispered some tiny amount of decency into her head.

Out of love, maybe, just maybe, she should call this off...

Of course, the consideration died in an instant. Love was not enough to quench the inferno raging within her. In fact, it probably just fueled it more. After all, what had all this been for in the first place?

Flin wanted a family too, didn't he?

In the end, all she could do was reassure him of how much she valued him before he left. He clearly hadn't gotten the message, but that was okay. It was better this way. Everyone would get what they wanted.

She'd known ever since that night last week what life would look like if she let him go through with a fertility test, and just the idea of it made her sick to her stomach. Normally, she would've deluded herself into hoping for the best and let him do it. Unfortunately, she trusted his judgement. Her only option was to take matters into her own hands.

Simply put, she didn't want to adopt.

She wanted to have a child. Preferably -- in a perfect world -- that child would've been his. But that wasn't an option anymore, and her body cried out to fulfill its natural purpose anyway regardless of who did the deed. That was why she couldn't let Flin take that test. If she let him only for it to come out badly, she would lose the chance to satisfy her womanhood forever.

It was cruel to him. She understood that. In the past, she wouldn't have dreamed of hurting him this way. She would've given up on childbirth and settled with spending the rest of her days with her beloved.

Not anymore. As long as she felt this incompleteness, their marriage would pay the price. She had to do this. As long as he never found out, this was a favor she was doing him. His Christmas present. The final tie, even deeper and more intimate than the rings they wore, that would keep them together forever.

Steeling her resolve one last time, she tapped the green button beneath the unknown number and waited. The dial tone whined into her ear, making her tense --he usually responded so quickly, it never had any time to sound out even once.

However, before even a modicum of doubt could take hold -- as if calling her bluff -- Tray finally picked up.

"Hello?"

Deep breaths.

"Hi."

"Oh good, it wasn't just a buttdial. Did I ever tell you your voice is to die for, Rina?"

She squeezed her thighs together at his crude comment as she so often did, though any rebukes she once had were long gone by now. Hearing his voice after so long, too, was having an immediate effect on her. "Please don't tease me..."

"Relax, relax. No need to be so serious. I'm not mad. Things happen," he laughed. "So... What's up? I'm at the Christmas party now. Just got done with my little opening speech, actually. You coming with Flin tonight? I thought he'd be here by now."

"No. I'm at home alone."

"Tsk. A shame. This party could use some life, you know."

"Tray," she declared, not allowing herself to delay any longer. There was no point in it. She just had to dive in. "Are you busy right now?"

Silence met her as he didn't respond, broken by the occasional, garbled noise of the crowd on his end.

She steadied her breath as best she could, then rephrased. "I mean, is there really any point in you being at that party?"

"Oh, I see..." he murmured. She quivered at his tone, imagining his smug, lewd face in the midst of the party. "Yes, yes... I see. I can make that happen. Would you like me to bring Maddie? She's here with me."

"No," she stated bluntly. "Just you."

"Ha. You'll break her heart, you know."

She highly doubted that. The girl probably approved of nothing more than this.

"Don't worry. I'll tell her all about it," he chuckled. "See you soon."

He hung up the call, and that was that.

No turning back now.

She dropped the phone and slumped on the couch, feeling an odd sense of deja vu. This was where it had all begun in a sense -- where she'd met him, where she'd rubbed herself to his first texts, where she'd taken him for the first time. This couch was forever tainted with her infidelity, but over the months, she found nowhere else in the house quite as comforting. After her betrayal, it was the only part of it that didn't feel any different.

Her phone buzzed on the cushion, and she flipped it over to see a new notification. She expected it to be from Tray, but it was actually her husband who had texted her this time.

[I'm here. Love you <3]

She flipped the screen face down again after reading it. As she sat there, hand still wrapped around the device, she stared at her slim ring finger and the golden band wrapped around it. She hadn't had the wherewithal to take it off during her affair; honestly, she'd forgotten every time. Now, however, she had no excuse. Tray was likely on his way at this very moment. The respectful thing to do was to leave it on the coffee table and not dirty it any more.

But halfway into sliding it off, she stopped.

No. Flin deserved to be in her mind as it happened, at the very least. In that way, their child would be his.

So, she left it on.

===

Flin felt a bit of a pang in his heart upon seeing the office emerge from the dense trees. Since it was the holiday season, the exterior was done up in lights as he and Kanan had made tradition, no different from any year before. Wreaths hung merrily from the windowsills, and the pruned bushes, normally as bland and reserved as any other part of the halls inside, now glowed with unrelenting festivity. He thought he'd toned down his sentimentality of late -- it was necessary to keep him sane for the rest of the year -- but every once in a while, sights like this caught him off guard and took him back by surprise.