Olivier gasped as she blocked Miles' fist with one arm and slammed the other into his chest. It landed with a thump that echoed through the empty gymnasium where they were sparring. He hissed and lunged towards her, but she dodged his sailing hand, then leapt behind him and locked his flailing arms in a hold. Miles struggled, his smooth fingers grappling for her wrists, his bare back grazing her exposed torso.

"Forfeit," he moaned after a minute, his breath hot on her cheek.

Olivier kept her grip fast for one more moment before relinquishing him.

"I thought I had this one, but you came out of nowhere" Miles breathed, his chest glistening as he turned towards her.

"I am the Fort sparring champion," she teased.

Miles waved one finger at her, like a scolding teacher. "Give me a moment, and let's try again. I'm going to win, just once."

Olivier smiled, rapt as he leaned against a wall and panted. His scant black shorts had drifted downwards so the top of his hips were visible. He adjusted them, exposing more of his thighs, then stood up straight.

She gazed at him as they faced each other, her eyes analyzing the exact lines of his figure. When he threw the first punch, she veered away, though she scarcely wanted to. The pain of contact seemed like nothing compared to the vision of his skin against hers. She stayed close, jabbing him lightly, imagining their legs intertwined. His fist thrust towards her, and she half-heartedly dodged it, then his other hand met her sternum. She staggered backwards, lamenting the increase of space between them. Growling, she dashed towards Miles, taking him by surprise and slamming him with both fists. He gasped as he careened away from her, waving his arms for balance. One hand grabbed Olivier's wrist as he fell to the floor, pulling her on top of him.

"That's an illegal move," she gibed, before realizing that she was almost straddling him. Her hands were spread on either side of his shoulders, her chest was against his and her legs were sprawled awkwardly to one side. She breathed in deeply, taking a moment to savor his scent before stealing a glimpse of his face, which was stunned and inscrutable. Tittering, Olivier glanced around, considering the best way to extract herself. Then she felt a twitching against her thigh. Reflexively, she moved her leg away, only to meet a growing erection when she moved it back. Bowing her head, she brushed against it again, and Miles let out a small sound. Slowly, she forced her face upwards and he nodded slightly.

Eagerly, her hands grasped his chest, then glided towards his waist. His skin was like silk, and she thrust her body against his, wanting more. She moaned as his arms coiled around her, pulling her core closer to his growing hardness. Pumping her hips, she scraped against him, slamming her eyes shut as the desire mounted.

Suddenly, Olivier sat up, breaking Miles' grip. Waiting for his eyes to meet her body, she pulled out her ponytail so that her hair spilled over her shoulders, then tugged at her sports bra.

"What's the chance that someone comes in here?" he asked.

Olivier reluctantly looked at the door. "Not high, it's almost midnight." But she forced herself to her feet and locked at it, her eyes catching her sword which was balanced in a corner nearby. Picking it up on a whim, she resumed her place straddling Miles. Playfully, she put the dull edge of the blade to his throat, then moved it across his chest, meeting his wide eyes and feeling him harden further as she claimed him. Chuckling, she pulled off her bra, raising her hands high about her head and letting her breasts spill out. He inhaled sharply, gazing raptly as they swayed.

Shaking her torso, she leaned forward, letting one nipple meet his mouth. His erection pushed against her core. Miles' hands found her shorts, and they ran gently around the waistband before relieving her of them in a single motion. Her underwear met a similar fate, and then fingers were between her legs, starting at the front and moving downward, circling her hole before moving to the center, but not quite penetrating it. She moaned and it was low and shameful, almost like pleading.

Quickly, Olivier removed Miles' shorts. As his erection sprung out at her, she gaped. Sometimes, she imagined what it might be like to be fucked by Buccaneer, his cock impaling her as she bent over sofa, her hands covering her scarlet face. But she'd never pictured Miles as exceptionally large. Gently, she stroked him, spreading the ooze that leaked from his tip down his shaft and his fingers played at her entrance.

Smiling, Olivier pushed herself up on her knees, then bore down on him, swearing under her breath as his cock stretched her open (fuck), plowed its way deep inside her (fuck, fuck) and hit a spot that make her slam her eyes closed and squeal (fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck). Miles reached for her, but she pinned his wrists, hissing at the sensation as she bucked her hips ferociously. Finding her pace, she rode him harder, reveling in every wave of pleasure that washed through her body, scarcely hearing her own whimpers. She roared when she reached the pinnacle.

Afterwards, she lay next to him, nuzzling his neck and stroking his hair. "Come to Mama," she whispered, pulling him towards her and kissing him harshly. He sprung into her arms as he devoured her and held her tight.

"We need a new gun mount," Miles said to Olivier the next day. It was the first time that they had spoken since their encounter.

Her brow furrowed, but she collected herself. "Did it crack in the cold again?" she asked.

"In three places," he replied, his voice completely flat, without a hint of acknowledgement that anything had happened, "Maintenance couldn't repair it."

She stared at him, waiting for a wink or a smile, but there was none.

Olivier couldn't sleep. There was a churning in her stomach. "What are you expecting, for him to come up to you and say yeah, we just fucked?" she chided herself.

But as she lay wide-eyed, she wondered what it would be like to let Miles degrade her night after night, month after month. Olivier couldn't always keep the upper hand. She imagined lying next to him with trickles down her thighs, satisfied but whore-like, the treasured mistress but never the beloved wife.

Olivier never understood why marriage made it right. You were indecent unless you submitted to one man's every whim. Then you were celebrated.

Every so often, she met other soldiers' wives at social events where she flitted around strangely, the only woman in uniform, a smile that barely concealed her aggravation plastered on her face. And she would picture them with cocks in their mouths and jizz on their faces. Or bent over, getting slammed in the ass by the men who forged the country. And Olivier would feel like she'd ascended to a different plane.

Olivier's face burned as she used her master key to unlatch the door of Miles' quarters. His startled mouth opened, but then formed into a smile.

"Hi there," he said softly.

She wordlessly unbuttoned her jacket and hung it on the back of his chair, then pulled her turtleneck over her head.

"No foreplay, huh," he teased, his eyes widening.

She leaned down to untie her boots, ignoring him.

Miles furrowed his brow. "What's up with you?" He crouched down, so their eyes were level. "Don't you want to say hello? Have a chat?"

"Why?" Olivier demanded, "So I can let every sordid detail of what we're about to do sink in?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Miles sputtered.

She hung her head. "I hate that I'm so attracted to you."

"Is it because I'm married?" Miles asked, his head tilted to the side, "I want you to know that my wife and I have an agreement."

Olivier scowled, irritated that his wife had to factor into this. "It's not that."

Miles pulled up a chair and sat next to her. "What is it then?"

"I don't know," Olivier replied, blowing her hair out of her face, "I'm supposed to enter an arranged marriage one day. Every time I … you know … I almost feel like I'm stealing from my family." She clasped her hands and stared at each finger. "Then there's the military. It's not what good officers do."

He laughed. "Well, that's a lie. Most of our superiors are complete dogs."

Olivier growled. "Yes, I know that. But if I do it, I get judged, I get belittled, maybe I even get disciplined for Unbecoming Conduct. It's discretionary, you know." She glanced at the ceiling.

Miles sighed. "I suppose that's true." He turned towards her. "I want you to know that I will never tell anyone what happens between us."

Olivier frowned.

"Besides," he said with a small smile, "I've never known you to obey your superiors. Or your family for that matter." He paused. "Since when have you cared what other people think?"

"This is different somehow," she groaned, her cheeks turning pink, "I just get so embarrassed."

"Well, you shouldn't," he said, tracing one hand down her shoulder, "You deserve to have some fun." He looked her in the eye. "I don't want you to ever feel embarrassed around me. Or pressured. I'm not going to hold it against you if tomorrow you meet the lord of your dreams and don't come back."

Olivier sighed and let out a small laugh. "That is so much easier said than done."

Thanks for reading! I appreciate comments and faves if you have the time