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"Congratulations!"
Accompanied by a resounding cheer that shook the foundations of the Emiya residence, a grandiose toast was made to celebrate the miracle in their midst. At the head of the table sat Shirou Emiya, husband to Saber, also known as Artoria, former King of Britain, former Servant.
And they all celebrated the small, obvious bump on her belly.
Mordred had not believed it, when she'd heard the news. As far as she knew, Emiya Shirou and father had disappeared from the city for a few months without so much as a by-your-leave, and had only just now returned, bearing the news (and the babe growing in father's womb) to the amazement of much of the ex-Servants who knew them. She'd spent much of the preceding months in a jumpy, antsy mood, demanding answers of the Tohsaka and Matou girl, the Gorgon, anyone who might know where father and Shirou had gone. They'd just up and vanished, and then they came back. That was mighty annoying-though her thoughts had then been occupied by the aforementioned news.
The significance of Saber's pregnancy wasn't lost on the Heroic Spirits, who had thought such things impossible. There was much heated debate all over the dinner table as to how the miracle had happened, explanations flying from magus to magus about this or that theory. Near all of it flew right over Mordred's head, as she continued to keep her smile from turning into a pout, her teeth grinding as she continued to sip from the godawful rice wine. She shared a look with the slender Gorgon, Medusa, who quirked a brow at her pointedly, which made her bite her lip in a failed attempt to hide the sudden flush of her cheeks.
"Mordred? Is something wrong?" Saber asked, cutting across the talk and suddenly turning all attention towards her. Mordred leaned back and guzzled the last of her shot, before standing up abruptly and excusing herself from the table, citing a bad stomach. She rushed down towards the bathroom accordingly, then slammed the door shut as she turned the faucet on to full blast.
"Shit shit shit!" she muttered, dunking her whole head into the rush of water. "Fucking shit!" She cursed the hot, treacherous tears in her eyes, cursed the throbbing of her treacherous heart, and yet again cursed this whole treacherous existence, for showing her all these foolish sentiments. She nearly punched the wall, an act which would have blown a hole in it from her strength.
She sighed, and let the water drip from her face. Her feelings on the matter were a definite mess. But she definitely didn't want anyone to see her try to sort it all out, least of all him. She was a knight, she could deal with it, and feelings be damned. She'd just need a few days. No, maybe a week. Two weeks.
Goddamnit, maybe a full month. Maybe she'd just disappear, like they did, take a trip around the world. Hitchhike all around. Maybe meet another person, another good person, who would be able to understand her, like he did, who would love her, like he did, who wouldn't remind her of him-
At the thought of him, the pressure in her chest grew and she slammed her head back into the water. Damn him damn him damn him!
She quickly slipped into the guestroom prepared for her, whose door she locked judiciously. She busied herself reading a book the Gorgon had lent her. But the act of reading became meaningless, the words dissolving into so much unintelligible swirls. She hated the whimper that came from her throat. She threw the book aside and dug into the thick covers of her bed, fuming.
"Well... it's not like it matters to me, anyway," she told herself. "If father's happy, I'm happy. And if Shirou's happy..." She pondered that thought, and found herself squirming into the covers, as if she were getting ready for metamorphosis. "Goddamn jerk," she said. "Hope you're fucking happy."
There was no need to mince words to herself, of course. She was Shirou Emiya's lover-one of many, as she'd discovered. It was exactly the sort of sordid debauchery that the humans enjoyed in their "television"-the women surrounding Emiya Shirou orbiting him like planets. And every adulteress was aware of the others in this twisted arrangement-or at least they pretended like they were the only "other one", and never brought up the issue among themselves of being lovers with the same man. It was saner that way, and led to less trouble with Saber, of whom Mordred felt the utmost guilt. She greatly deserved the epithet of "treacherous" in this situation now.
She could well blame it on Emiya, that lecherous, boorish... manly pig... man, with his kind soul and his rugged... Mordred's brow twitched as she recalled the phantom pain of their recent liaison at the shopping mall, where they'd desperately rutted inside a dressing room stall. W-well, he was certainly an able lover, sensitive to her needs, and understanding of her very nature as a person, but that was that! It was just a carnal exchange, an agreement between a certain boorish, lascivious man with nigh-insatiable appetite, and a certain woman. Nothing more, no useless sentiments, no false loves, just a meeting of flesh when convenient, and all with the agreement of discretion when it came to his wife.
So thinking, why did she feel very strongly when she saw her father pregnant? It had been like a sudden punch in the gut. It should not have affected her so, she should have joined in the celebrations back there. The news of her pregnancy was the very best thing one could ever expect for existences such as theirs. And yet instead of the wonder, and joy one expected, Mordred felt spite, and jealousy, steal over her mind, poisoning it with images unworthy of father's understanding, of being held at his side, acknowledged wife, of living the quiet life here, at his side, of bearing his seed...
"Gahhh! Why the hell did it have to be him?" Feeling quite mortified she rolled around and around on the bed, wishing to be lost in sleep but finding she could not.
Much later in the night, there came a knock at the door. Mordred stirred, for there were a set of knocks. It was the pattern known only to two specific people, or so she thought. To Mordred, the pattern of knocks may as well have been the needed trigger to set off her response: her ears pricking, her breath hitching, her heart beating faster, and her pussy twitching. She was like a dog that'd scented the return of its owner-only now she was the slut who knew the lover had come.
Still, she caught herself at the last moment from practically jumping at the door, which she'd done many times before, and so was content to merely watching Shirou enter through the door, his robes loose around his thready, muscular body. Mordred caught a glimpse of his half-erect cock through the slit in his clothes, and she swallowed, knowing full well it had been sheathed in Her Royal Highness just now and thus fresh with her juices. She'd loved to taste and swallow the taste of father from his cock, imagining the state in which the proud King of Knights had been as she was taken on the nightly rides with her husband. Or sometimes it was some other girl, and she would make a game of trying to guess identities from the taste and smell, and would then preen if her guess was correct.
But somehow, she felt no excitement now. A bitter feeling instead came stealing into her, as she watched him carry a small pouch and place it on her nightstand. He walked over to stand in front of her, then cocked his head downward, catching sight of her expression.
"What's wrong? You left dinner so awfully fast. Sakura even made that salad just for you; she thought there was something wrong."
"...Nothing... I mean, nothing's wrong," she said, turning her head away. "Listen, as much as you deserve the congratulations right now, I'm just not in the mood at the moment. Maybe next time, alright?"
A pause. "You are in a bad mood."
"Yeah? So what," she said grumpily. "Got nothing to do with you. Scram. Go back and watch over father-or aren't you supposed to be a responsible dad yourself now or what? Do the responsible things."
Unhelpfully, infuriatingly, the idiot didn't leave, and even sat down on the bed. She subtly tried to move away, though with the bed's size it was a laughable attempt. "Mordred, please listen to me."
She sighed. "Oh fine, if you really wanna fuck." She threw the covers off herself, and took off her shorts and underpants in one full sweep, as if she didn't care anymore.
"Mordred, please!" he said, clamping onto her wrist before she could go any further than her ankles. "It's really important."
Mordred knew she wasn't always the sharpest tool in the armory but she could well guess what he was gonna say. She'd seen it a lot happen in those books she read on the side, or on the television. He was going to break up with her-let her down easy with a billion mewling words. And she had the choice to be angry, or scheme to get even, or whatever; question would be would she take it lying down or fight for her love-Nope, no way. Not her, no. No more. Shit, my eyes, she thought, lips quivering, as she looked away from his face. She understood. She would be a good sport. It was a good long passionate affair, affirming her right and feelings as an individual returned to this earth, but all good (and in a way, bad) things came to an end somehow. Especially now, when it was necessary. Shirou couldn't possibly keep on all his affairs when father was-
"I told Saber... about us. About all of us."
For a moment, she lay there stunned, her panties around her ankles, her eyes widening, as the words sank into her useless mind. Told? Told? Father knew? "What-why-wha-" She saw red, as she felt betrayal of the utmost piercing her very core, which somehow seemed to hurt more than when her father denied her before. "The hell were you doing? Are you trying to bring this whole life down, you bastard?" Oh, she could have positively wrung his neck, strangling him for doing this to her, to father-
"No, no, it's all right," Shirou said, still maddeningly placid and easygoing. "Saber understood. Well, she was surprised at first, but she understood. Said something about being guilty of keeping all the happiness to herself-she seemed pretty happy to hear about us, Mordred-san. She was glad you found love."
"Lo-no-I mean, that's not-" She opened and closed her mouth, feeling winded from his sudden reversal. And then feeling thoroughly confused-was father really alright with the situation?
"Anyway, we can talk about that later, particularly with Saber herself present... Tonight I just want to talk about us. Mordred-san... I know this is sudden and all, but would you happen to want a child?"
"A child? Wh-" An image of her cradling a baby, her baby, came to her, along with the thoughts of giving it the proper love and direction she never had-only to be then reminded sharply of the impossibility.
Or it was impossible, before father.
She blinked, confused by the sudden change of topic, and stared into Shirou's eyes. "The hell you saying?"
"I'm asking if you want a kid. A baby. Because if you do... then it's possible, as you've seen. But if you don't, it's perfectly fine, too. It's a decision I wouldn't want to make for you."
Of course she wanted a kid, thought Mordred. More specifically, his kid, his child, the crystallization of their mutual love and respect. She fantasized it sometimes, even knowing of her nature as an ex-Servant; further, even knowing of the tangled situation with father. An impossible dream.
But could he give it to her? And if he could, would she really take it?
"How?" she asked, after a long moment.
Shirou gestured to the pouch he'd brought with him. "We visited certain people abroad... It was a really tiring journey. But we managed to find a solution. They had all these explanations that flew over my head, and I guess Tohsaka would be able to explain it more, but the gist of it is that I'll be implanting a 'grail' inside you that will act as your womb. Like a prosthetic arm or leg for someone-only this time we're borrowing a certain Church sacrament to create this miracle. We tried it on Saber, and after a while, well..."
"Shirou... are you saying... you want me to have a kid?" She coughed, not sure if she was just imagining this whole conversation. "Y-your kid?"
"That's really up to you," he said gently, "But personally, I'd really like to." He patted her head, which made her purr like a cat from reflex, though she shook it off quickly to stare at him with a more serious demeanor. "I'd really love to start a family, with you included, Mordred-san."
She nearly spluttered, her face near flushing up and making her head all woozy. She gasped sharply, and squirmed, cursing again her treacherous body for feeling this way so easily, like it belonged to a common slattern easily beguiled by a man's soft and honeyed words. And yet she still took his words at face value; he was a kind, strong soul, who had proven his worth many times over. "I-I'd really love that, too Shirou, if you'd let me." she said in a small voice, reaching out to tug his shirt while taking care not to show him her embarrassed face. Never mind the voices in her head telling her this was the greatest treachery she had ever pulled, that she would betray father yet again.
She was never one for deep thought, and even now when it came, she ignored it utterly.
"So then you'll?" Unable to restrain herself, she grabbed the front of his robes and crashed his lips on hers. It sure as hell was no romantic kiss, nothing but an ungracious meeting of lips. But she'd be damned to call it anything but the a new milestone in their relationship.
"Yes. I will."
()()()()()()(
All things considered, she felt a little bit self-conscious. She lay there, utterly naked, her slender, pale form illuminated by the moonlight streaming from the open window. Of course, she was proud of her body, a form fit and polished for battle, and she was glad that Shirou did not seek to judge her by her body's womanly traits (or lack thereof). She had also shown the man quite enough of herself, every embarrassing crevice and opening. And yet she felt truly naked now, lying there with her legs spread wide, with Shirou between her legs, and with that came a light embarrassment.
"...Oi. Are-urk-you sure this-tsk-isn't-haaah-some sort of-grk-foreplay?" Her words were punctuated by heated grunts and squeals coming from her mouth. She breathed in short, shaky bursts, and her pussy felt like it was an alchemical solution just brimming with untold pleasure. It was hard not to feel the results of Shirou expertly pleasuring her through her erect clit and her steaming, moist folds.
Shirou looked up, meeting her eyes, then looked pointedly at the wet stick held in his hand, while the fingers making wet shlicking sounds in her pussy never lost pace. "The ritual needs you to be at the 'height of preparation for estrus', or as the priest called it, 'prepping the bitch'. Ah, sorry for saying that. That sounds wrong."
She wheezed. "That's...hmm!-Fine-ggk-"
As he talked, Shirou carried on poking and stroking her vulva with one hand while tracing cold, crimson lines on her navel. Chancing a small peek, she saw it was forming some sort of pattern she couldn't make out, before she tossed her head back, the thrills of pleasure reverberating up her spine with delicious frequency. One of the maddening things she discovered about Emiya Shirou was his keen, almost single-minded approach to his many lovemaking techniques. In just a few encounters he'd sussed out every one of her pleasure spots, and used those against her judiciously until she was just a wet, steaming puddle of sexual fluids writhing helplessly on the floor.
Case in point, she felt him rub at a particular bundle of nerves along her clit, which after minutes of stimulation now sent a rapidfire bolt, like lightning, into her mind, making her back arc straight up from the bed from the explosion of sheer pleasure that bloomed behind her eyelids. Godamn fucking... Whatever protests she had against this "bed yakuza" disappeared in the haze of sheer bliss that suffused her consciousness, that addicting climax of sensation that made her come back again and again. She collapsed back onto the bed, utterly spent, aware she'd made his fingers even wetter.
"Oh, sorry!" she said, looking back down, and saw that he was still drawing on her navel.
"It's no trouble," said Emiya, his eyes still focused on his task. "You weren't moving that much." And yet he was still stroking her. Hard.
She bit her lip, trying desperately not to whimper at the renewed tendrils of pleasure that came up from her gods damned treacherous cunt. "Goddamnit, it's-haah-not over?!"
"Nope," he said simply, then, as if emphasizing his point, he flicked her sore clit, which actually made her shriek.
Luckily, she'd grabbed a pillow and buried her face into it. "Mrrghhhh! Ffffuuuck!" came her muffled voice from within, as her legs twitched from his masterful touch.
"I always liked this sensitive side of you, Mordred-san."
"Screw you," she replied, panting, as the waves of her orgasms passed through her. Dazed, she threw the pillow aside, and grabbed fistfuls of the covers, just in time for him to smack and withdraw his hands from her.
"It's done," he said.
"Really?" she said, in a slurred voice, looking down at the bright-red symbol newly etched on her lower abdomen. It was a drawing of what looked like some sort of cup, with leaf-like protrusions drawn along its sides. She touched the thing gingerly. "Looks... weird... Is this a tattoo or something?"
"It's supposed to represent the womb," he said, and took her fingers to trace over the markings with her. "With this, I've implanted something like it on you."
She met his eyes. "So that's that?" He nodded, smiling faintly. He interlocked his fingers with hers, then leaned down to kiss the symbol on her navel.
She uttered a low squeak, feeling just a bit ticklish from the sudden sensation, though she would never admit it to him. She felt his hot breath pass over the mark he'd created, which sent a small, refreshing shiver to crawl up her spine. "What're you pulling, fool?"
"I'm just admiring the room where our baby's going to be. Hard to imagine that in just a short time, they'll form here, and live here within you- Technically this is your first 'flowering' as the magecraft immediately makes you ovulate... well, you've definitely ovulated already, making you ripe for... ahem, insemination." He kissed her navel again, thankfully oblivious to her heart beating just a bit more rapidly from his words, and the small window of imagination she'd glimpsed which showed her the fantasy of what would happen. No, it would be no fantasy now, would it?
"...Come here you," she said, dragging him up by his hair so her head rested in between her petite chest. It felt warm, and oddly fulfilling to feel his warm body on top of her-never mind the lewd, turgid thing she knew was hardening between his legs. Of course, they had had tender moments like this before, but this time was very different. This was a prelude to a new chapter in her life, a life she knew she didn't deserve. But she would take it, exploit this man's foolish generosity. And though her fingers trembled like they'd never had when gripping the hilt of her sword, though her mind felt more muddled than any march towards the battlefield, though her heart felt utterly frightened of the prospect, she never felt safer and more content than when she was here with her love.
"I'm ready," she said finally, which made him stir. He looked up, then he moved to kiss her fully on the lips. Even the flavor, the feel, the motion of this simple meeting of mouths felt different now. Never was it more loving, or more desperate, as she poured every ounce of her pitiful emotions into it, hoping against hope, and entrusting her all to Emiya Shirou.
Their hands still intertwined, their mouths yet glued to the other's, Shirou finished the process of shedding all his clothes, and then moved to press his whole body over hers. Mordred felt the intense heat of his manhood even without it touching her skin, which further inflamed her passions. She was already in a ready position, her legs spread wide, but she let him settle in further on top of her, until the tip of his hot, thick member lay against her steaming cunt, thoroughly prepped beforehand for his entry. Mordred playfully nipped at his tongue, a little signal between them that she wanted to speak.
"So I was thinking..." she said, as his mouth roved over the curve of her shoulders. "We should definitely use... that position right?"
Shirou raised his brow, but didn't say another word as the both of them shifted their bodies on the bed: ending with her lying on her belly, buttocks raised high and knees spread wide, and him moving in between her legs, mounting her with practiced ease, his eager cock ready to pierce through her hot, moist opening.
Shirou must've been as desperate to fuck as she was, as he wasted no time after entering her to begin rutting fiercely, his hips slapping with potent loudness on hers. And even with his rapid, dogged movements, Mordred found to her frustration that he never let up with striking her known weakpoints, leaving her no choice but to coast along with the renewed feelings of pleasure now bursting from her pussy as he ravaged her masterfully and thoroughly.
They were as beasts in heat mating, and Mordred loved the sensation, the implication-she could not find fault with anything in this situation. Her inner folds twisted and squirmed around his hot member, gripping his thrusting cock tight like an army resisting an invading force; that even as she drooled and gasped onto the mattress she heard his unmistakable hisses and groans, and thus she was sure she pleasured him just as he pleasured her. Still, Mordred didn't think too hard about it, as preoccupied as she was with the equally hard thing ramming into her with frenzied speed, and the way each complete thrust made sparks bloom behind her eyes.
And so, even Shirou focused less on his techniques and gave in fully to the instincts interred in every human from the dawn of time: now the both of them could speak nothing else than cow-like lowing and frantic hisses. Mordred's slick honeypot dripped and oozed fluid down her thighs, her body only working to ensure its guest was well-oiled for its task. She then felt Shirou's breath on her nape, which then travelled to her shoulder. Then she felt a sharp pain-though recognized it a second later as Shirou biting her, claiming her like some predatory animal. At the thought of this symbol of being subjugated by a superior, Mordred came, her pussy exploding in a rush of lewd juices, her insides squeezing tighter around him until he too came. With a joined, mutual shout these two beasts roared into the night, celebrating the successful realization of their union, the stamp on the contract, as it were-as millions of his sperm crowded through her now-fertile womb to converge on her waiting egg.
She lay there panting, feeling his warmth blooming inside, outside and over her, as if she were wrapped up in a warm cocoon promising everlasting bliss and contentment. So many times he'd came in her before, and only now did every spurt of his seed into her newly-made womb give her actual fulfillment. There was a subservient feeling there too, the feeling of being utterly dominated by a strong male, a particularly hot and arousing perversion for the ex-Servant who felt pride in her skills. Combined, these feelings was a pleasure unto itself, adding on to the orgasmic waves still washing over her body. She knew then, that the process was done, technically. She at least knew that much.
But a better, more primal part of her knew: this wasn't over yet. And she confirmed it when she glanced over her sweaty shoulder at Shirou, whose eyes still gleamed with lust even as he seeded her to the brim.
"So... I'm a mommy now, huh?"
Shirou growled. Their lips mashed together, like two tomatoes slamming into the other in a blender, lips and drool and sweat and tongue locked in a brief celebration of their mutual carnal bliss. It was more to punctuate the confirmation of their procreation, before they got down and dirty with the rest of their liaison.
Shirou flipped her on her side, and tugged at one of her legs roughly, lifting it high in the air as he plowed his rock-hard erection back into her slimy, cum-slick hole. She moaned appreciatively, her eager pussy roiling and kissing along his length. An orgasm later she was on her knees between him, suckling him back to full hardness with her fierce, insistent mouth. Then he pressed down on her, pinning her to the damp, smelly bed as he mounted her again and gouged her all the way through to her inner core.
By the end of it, her pussy felt raw and sore, but the dull, throbbing pain felt like a mark of pride, a constant reminder of the decision she'd made with pride, from love, and together with him. They spooned together on the mattress, babbling lazily about this or that idiotic topic until they dozed off into sleep.
An hour later, she awoke to his prodding nibbling at her neck, and his renewed arousal. They came together again under the covers, less mating and more lovemaking, Shirou showing off how soft and gentle he could be in sex. She fell back to sleep with him still inside her, and that was the last thing she remembered before the darkness shut her eyes yet again. The next moment, she'd woken, Shirou had gone, but his smell and warmth remained.
And so was another thing, she thought, peeking down the covers to pat the bright-red tattoo on her navel with much tenderness.
()()()()()()
The next morning saw Mordred awake at dawn, far before even Shirou or father. She busied herself in the kitchen, literally rolling up the sleeves of her robes to attempt to create breakfast. Unfortunately she got so struck with the idea of chopping up the vegetables with style-like tossing them up and dicing them before they came down-that she didn't hear father pass by, nor less her approach.
"Mordred?"
"Whoa!" She caught the thrown tomato in time before she whirled to face father. "F-father, good morning. I was just- just-" In the end all she could offer were feeble stammers, which Artoria took with stride.
"Making breakfast, I see. I hope you see your efforts requited."
"D-damn right," she said, propping up her chest. But doing that made her loose robes flutter, unfortunately revealing to father the symbol on her navel.
Artoria looked down and said, "Is that...?" Before she could even act, father had laid her fingers on the sigil.
"Oh, um..." Crap. This was so damned awkward. It was good that no one else was awake yet, so they wouldn't see this awkward scene. Mordred's eyes widened, when she saw that father's eyes were shadowed by her bangs, making them hard to read. Shit. Had that bastard lied? Had he really told father about his indiscretions?
Then, in the next moment, father raised her face and smiled. She stepped forward and drew Mordred close into a strong, bear-like hug, pinning him against her slightly swollen belly.
"Uhhh..."
"It's alright," father whispered, patting her back. "I did hear from Shirou. I cannot speak for you, nor for anyone, but I'm personally just so happy I can share this unique experience with you, with all of you even, but with you most of all."
"F-father...?"
With her other hand, Artoria's palm came down and caressed her navel gently, as if she were patting the head of the youngster who was sure to have been implanted there by now. "I know you'll be fine, Mordred. And I am proud to be able to share this happiness with you."
For a good long moment, Mordred was stunned, her body stiffened by father's gentle words. Then, in the following moments, the accursed waterworks came. "God... damned... onions..." she said, after a moment.
Artoria giggled. "I'll be very happy to see my grandchild, weird as it sounds." She withdrew from the embrace, holding her at arms' length. She cocked her head, a thoughtful expression on her face.
"...Though I would rather we not indulge Shirou's fantasies. He said something about a 'mother-daughter' thing that sounds rather too kinky, even for me."
Commissioned by the same Mordred-loving anonymous person, thanks. Extra words on me, etc.
If you'd like a story commissioned, please contact me here, or on my tumblr, theruffpusherdottumblrdotcom.