A/N:
Hello, dear reader! Finally we've come to the honeymoon...and Loid's true name reveal.
Content warning: This chapter is rated T+ (16-plus) and is better for readers who are ages 16+. This follows Loid and Yor's honeymoon, and there is a love scene, with references to sex and love-making. This scene was important to the arc of the story and I've taken care to keep it more emotion-focused and metaphorical, not explicit, with minimal description to keep it within a T rating.
I've blocked off part of the love scene with divider lines, if you want to skip that part. The chapter will still make sense. Younger readers, please honor what your parents/guardians say...because I know they'd want you to. :) The story can still be understood if you skip that part.
The starting scene and end name reveal are within T. Otherwise younger and sensitive readers, proceed with caution.
That said, this chapter was unexpectedly fun to write. I love writing Papa-Anya moments and Loi/Twi x Yor connection moments. Especially moments where Loid lets himself be his authentic self.
Thanks, MBD and JG for your beta-ing insights and encouraging me to take a risk.
Thank you again NikkiH/Zelitdeas (on YouTube) for the wonderful fanart. Check her out!
Enough chatter! Let's get on with the family and AHEM, honeymoon fun.
. . . .
"i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you…
...and possibly i like the thrill
of under me you so quite new"
-e.e. Cummings, [ i like my body when it with your body, "&" (public domain)
. . . .
A rosy hum penetrated Loid's mind, exuding into the apartment atmosphere, as if Yor's singing last night and the dawn's pinkness mingled together. He heard it like distant music, the warble of an old love song coming from a secret garden. The hum sang within Loid as he pulled on a sweater and jeans, slipping the quartz stone into his pocket. He made pancakes for breakfast with an abstracted nonchalance, yet his senses remained honed, observing details. The sunshine. Bond's sniffing nose. Yor's hand brushing his side. Anya's intense stare.
That kid. Her eyes bored into his back. When Loid caught her, Anya busied herself munching pancakes, gulping milk. When Loid looked away, her keen eyes veered to Yor and him.
Watching how Yor, in her favorite red sweater dress, didn't flinch when Loid offered her a taste of pancakes with apples. Or how they sneaked holding hands under the table. Flirty-flirty.
Loid let out a mild sigh. Did Anya know were up to something today (off the charts flirty-flirty) but didn't know what? Or couldn't bring herself to ask?
In the foyer now, Loid found Yor's hand and they clasped fingertips as they discussed final details with Franky and Martha.
"Good, I'll come by to pickup Miss Becky at 5:30PM. Thank you so much for taking the girls out today, Mr. Franklin," Martha said.
"No problem, they're good kids." Franky glanced at Loid and Yor's linked hands. "My pleasure."
Becky and Anya were already in their coats, furiously whispering, their chatter within Loid's earshot.
"Becky," Anya whispered,"What do grownups do on honeymoons?"
Becky tapped her chin. "They kiss. A lot. And I think they—"
Loid flinched. Yor paled, her hand tightening on Loid's. Franky and Martha noticed their sudden discomfort.
"Miss Becky." Martha swooped to take Becky's hand. "It's rude to whisper among company. Surely you can say what you have to say to all of us."
"S-sorry, sorry—" Becky reddened, everyone's eyes on her. "Anya was asking about...dates. I-I was telling Anya how grow-ups do...romantic things and fun things on dates."
The adults exchanged stares. Franky hid a chuckle. Bond wagged his tail and looked between them all, wondering what the fuss was.
Anya was nonplussed. "I already know that. But Mama and Papa are going to be doing stuff at home, and that's boring. Can we go on our ooting now?"
"Could we please, Mr. Franky? I'm happy for my sir Loid and my master Yor, but..." Becky sniffed. "Our outing will do us good. Ready when you are."
"You girls said it. If everything's good to go, Ms. Marriott..."
"I believe it is." Martha's eyes caught Loid's and she flashed him a knowing, wistful smile when she glimpsed their held hands. "I'll be taking my leave then. Be on your best behavior, girls. Have a delightful day, everyone."
Loid knew that smile. Was Martha remembering a past, lost love?
Yor and he exchanged relieved smiles. Crisis averted.
"Okay lovebirds, we get it. We know when we're not wanted. Let's go, kids." Franky said.
"Wait, let me say 'bye' to Mama, Papa, and Bond first."
Yor reached for Franky. "Oh, we're not trying to kick you out. We love having you over."
"So you say..." He eyed Loid.
"Yor's right." Loid pulled out his wallet. "Franky, do you need—"
"I told you. No money this time." He mouthed G-I-F-T to Loid.
"No worries, Mr. Forger. I came prepared." Becky patted her shiny purse. "Daddy made sure we'd have plenty of extra spending money today, just in case."
"I hope you all have lots of fun," Yor said.
Franky grinned and shot Loid a wink. "Being at home will be boring, eh?"
"Franky." Loid raised a brow.
Anya tugged at Franky's sleeve. "Uncle Scruffy, stop giving Mama and Papa a hard time. They can't be flirty-flirty with us here, and we can't have all the fun if we stay home."
"Touché, Anya. Girls, it's adventure time."
The girls cheered.
First Anya hugged Bond around the neck, who whined to see her go. Then she exchanged a big squeeze with Yor, who kissed the top of her head and promised Anya, "Mama and Papa will be fine, sweetie," and sent her off with a "We'll miss you."
Loid knelt and Anya gave him a quick hug. Anya met him, eye-to-eye. Not the odd stare again.
"Papa?"
"What, Lil Peanut?"
"I have something else, but I need to whisper it in your ear, because it's just for you."
Loid obliged and turned his head.
"Thank you, Papa." Anya whispered. "For giving us a family."
"Anya?" Loid put a hand to his mouth, blinking. "Am I still...a 'perfect 100 points?'"
Anya beamed. "Always. You and Mama both."
"Thanks." Loid tried to smile. He checked to make sure no one else listened, and leaned close to Anya. "You know your Papa's going to stay. See you grow up, my own special Anya."
"I knew that, even when you didn't, Papa." Anya laughed, and he felt her laughter on his cheek. Loid laughed with her, subdued. It's not like Anya knew he was finally free to stay. Did she subconsciously sense his fears of leaving them? She was such an intuitive girl.
"Yes." He gathered Anya into a tight hug. "I'm staying as your Papa, always. I'll miss you, Peanut."
Anya squeezed back. "Miss you too, Papa. Maybe not too much, 'cause we'll be having fun. You'll be having fun too." She gave Loid's head a quick tap. "Tag."
"Hey." Loid playfully poked Anya. "Tag, you're it."
"Nuh-uh." Anya tapped his head and zipped out of reach. "Tag, you're it, no tag-backs."
He was It all day now. "I'll get you when you get home."
"I know you're not going anywhere, Papa."
Loid smiled wider. He wouldn't have it any other way.
Then Yor got their attention. "Look at this. Becky's trying to sell Franky on her romance tips."
Anya nodded. "She knows her stuff. She watches Berlint in Love."
Loid and Yor exchanged a discreet eye-roll.
"Mr. Franky, women love it when you give them little gifts. That's how Randall won Jessica over on Berlint in Love."
"Kid, that's not life. I don't need romance tips from a soap-opera obsessed eight-year-old."
"That's what you think." Becky drove her bargain. "Anya tells me you love machines. We have some new, exclusive prototypes at Blackbell Heavy Industries that nobody knows about except Daddy and the few people working on them. But if I asked Daddy, I'm sure he could arrange a special tour for us. Today."
"Prototypes?" Franky perked up. "I'm listening."
Becky gave a coy smile. "Only under one condition."
Here Anya smirked wide.
Franky grimaced."What's your price?"
"Romance tips. Just listen to me. No tips, no tour."
"What?"
Loid nodded at Franky. "Why don't you hear Becky out?"
"Hrmm..." Franky scratched his thick curly mop in thought. He grinned. "Sold."
Becky clapped her hands. "It's a deal. When can I tell you?"
"How about on our way to the aquarium?"
"Then Uncle Scruffy can try them out," Anya said.
"Didn't say I would. Like I'll be so lucky." Franky sighed, yet winked at Loid.
Loid chuckled under his breath. Good move, Franky. He wasn't one of Loid's best informants for nothing. Maybe Franky might gift him with some new intel on Blackbell Heavy Industries...and it might be nice if Franky did score a date. Not that he was holding his breath.
He was surprised to find Anya grinning up at him. "What is it?"
"Nothing. Thanks for telling Uncle Scruffy to listen to Becky."
Then she scampered to Becky and Franky, and with a last wave they were out the door. It clicked shut. Bond rose and went to his bed by the sunny window. Mr. and Mrs. Forger were alone.
Loid put his arms around Yor. "There they go."
Yor leaned in. "And here we are."
"Are we that obvious?"
"You weren't even trying to hide it."
"Should I?" Loid drew Yor in.
"Maybe not. What did Anya say?"
"Just..." Loid blinked, his voice wavering. "Thanking me for giving us...a family." He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, trying to ignore the sheen of moisture on it.
"Loid, you're..."
"I'm not, my eye was itching—"
"Don't hide it." Yor smiled up at him. "You can be honest with me."
"Sorry, Yor. I haven't been myself this week...I'm losing my edge."
Yor tapped his nose. "I wouldn't say that. You're so capable. I envy the ease with how much you can take on...I like seeing you this way too, what shines through your cracks. Know what I'm thinking?"
Loid held Yor closer, looking into her ruby-brown eyes. "What?"
"That I'd like get to know imperfect Loid better."
"Yor." Loid's face screwed up and he hid his face in her hair, breathing in its soft fragrance. Yor's warmth steadied him. Yor smoothed his head, the emotion passed, and his breathing eased. The pink hum returned to his mind.
—She wants to know that part of me? My flaws, my...
True name.
He could whisper it to her. Loid parted his mouth. He shut it. Not here.
Loid laughed and scooped Yor into his arms, bride-style. Yor yelped to be swept up.
"Shall we?" he said with mock-solemness.
Yor looped her arms around his neck. "Of course."
And they went into the living room.
...
He read her love poems, with a hand over his eyes. Yor sat in the chair opposite, listening, waiting. He read. It's easier to look at the words than her fireglow eyes, their voice deeper than roses, and would his swirling sky eyes betray him? He hungers to behold, he wants nakedness, yet he fears.
It's easier to read these printed words, a hand shading his eyes.
Another poem, then.
..My love is mine and I am his.
...She walks in beauty like the night.
...A garden locked is my sister, my bride.
There is no penance due to innocence. To teach thee, I am naked first; why then what needst thou have more covering than a man.
Now he read from the green book of e.e. cummings poems, a hand over his eyes, because if he looked at her she would see his...naked eyes.
This poem looks simple enough.
"i like my body when it is with your body..."
She giggled. He read on.
"i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you..."
He's slowing and pausing. She stifled more giggles under her hand.
"i like...i like slowly...str—str—" His stupid stammering schoolboy mind choked on the words. He's blushing...not like he's never said words like this before. Not ever with her.
"...str...elehh...fluuff—"
He smacked his forehead. The planner, the analyzer, the adapter has left the premises. Hello schoolboy. He's pinking...he stared at the book, a pressed smile on his face.
What are you waiting for?
"Excuse me, Loid?" The rustle of someone getting up.
The book is plucked from his lap.
His wife smiled down at him. "Loid?"
—i like...
ruby jewel eyes, smiling rubies, smiling pinking cheeks, lips, red sweater curve smiling upon bare shoulder skin...
..WHAT?
Yor sat in his lap. Put her arms around his neck and winked. "Don't you think that's enough?"
"Huh?" is all he can say.
"Don't you think it's time?"
With an effort, his mind snapped to, whirring and humming again. Even if rosy.
"Time? Oh...yeah." (Yor, you wonderful rose...)
She nodded. "Yeah."
He moved his arms around to carry her and shot up, stumbling. "Where to, love?"
"Your room."
There, when he undid that plastic rose button on her sweater dress, everything changed.
...
It started with kisses. Loid brought Yor to sit on the bed. He pulled off his sweater and t-shirt and sat before in his jeans. Bare-chested. Medium-slender, yet muscular.
Naked, to teach her first. No penance due to her innocence.
Yor crossed her arms over her chest, holding up her loosened sweater dress with her hands, upper arms and shoulders bared, now Loid had undone the back button.
She'd seen Loid shirtless before, only glimpses or in the dark. Now she was invited to linger and touch if she felt safe to. Yor did touch. She held up her dress with one hand, and with the other, her fingers gingerly traced, her hand passing upon him. Sometimes he shivered. Sometimes she accidentally tickled him. Loid's skin was smooth, yet marred by a few old scars here and there. These Yor brushed with curious fingertips. Loid gave a faint smile at how she found his scars, not put off.
Yor touched the bullet hole scar on his right arm, the one he'd hid for so long, now free for her to explore. A very average scar, and from over a year ago.
Loid held his breath when she brushed it, eyes alert.
Yor kissed his bullet scar. Why? Maybe her thanks he was...here. Alive.
At her kiss, he let out a shuddering breath. He looked at Yor like he was sorry, so sorry. What did he have to be sorry for? For hiding it? Alarming her? Something he couldn't say?
Yor, I am truly sorry. Can you possibly forgive me, his eyes said.
I am willing. Yor opened her arms to hug him and Loid accepted it, clutching her, burying his face on her shoulder, Yor's cheek upon his head. Loid shook somewhat, calmed by Yor's gentle press.
When they broke apart, he smiled, something lighter, freer in him. Yes. I know you forgive me.
Something shifted, and comfort became curious passion. Loid took his time, checking in with Yor. Her turn now? Go ahead. Her dress was around her waist now, and Loid took her in. He was surprised to find Yor wore a strapless bra under her black bandeau.
"Do you always wear that?" he asked with gentle wonderment.
Yor gave him a little smile. "Often enough."
The bandeau was worn more for modesty than support, and her assassin dress's cut required a strapless bra. She was used to it. Much newer was Loid's beguiling delight with seeing her in the bra, and it made Yor feel beautiful. He'd told her he found her pleasing, yet his hands, his eyes, his smile all said it. You're beautiful.
And although shy, she wanted Loid to see. Yor nodded with closed eyes when Loid asked to remove it. And she was bare. No man had ever seen her this way.
Yor pulled her hair forward to cover herself, not because of her shyness, but the thin scar-slash running between her breasts—the cut from the swordsman assassin's slash when she was body guard to Olka Gretcher and baby Gram on the Princess Lorelai. He nearly killed her, but not before Yor fought back with renewed fervor, realising she did her bloody work not just to protect Olka and Gram, but Anya and Loid—Loid, who now laid a gentle finger on her scar.
Yor trembled. He gazed at her, startled, concern in his face.
Who did this to you, Loid's eyes said. Like he wanted to fight the one who marred her, hurt her.
Yor shook her head, shuddering. I'm sorry, I can't say. I can't tell you.
Loid nodded. Was that grief she saw flash in his eyes, grief they couldn't say more? Yet carefully, he moved aside some of her hair and the necklace chain bearing the grenade pin ring.
He shut his eyes, and kissed the scar there, between her breasts.
Yor cried out hot tears. They fell on upon her hands and her husband's hands. He held her tight, rocking her with gentle shushings.
It must've been scary, whatever happened. Keeping secrets is hard. But don't worry, I'm here. You're okay, his embrace said. He gave her strength. Yor's tears flowed out, like a cleansing.
Dimly it occurred to Yor she hugged Loid now—with nothing on top—and such a thought would've filled her with embarrassed terror, yet it didn't bother her. She held Loid, wrapping her arms tighter, rocking with him, aware her teary face was mashed against her husband's bare chest, but so what?
—I was right. He accepts me as I am. No idea what I've been through, and yet he understands.
She leaned into that hug, and his shushings, soothed, the way she once soothed him by singing an old lullaby. After Yor quieted, they looked at one other. Yor smiled weakly, she was okay now. Loid gave her a relieved grin. Yor took Loid's hand and brought it near her chest. She nodded. Continue. Her tears turned to ones of joy as Loid delighted in her, and Yor too, in his soft, exploring touch.
Let us delight as he delights in me.
Then he lay Yor back, both bare to the waist now, and he lay over to kiss her. It was like falling back into a river, a flowing river leaving her with sweet shudders, carried in its waves, learning how to swim. Loid was there to guide her, and while she learned, he learned, too.
There was a river in the wooded foothills near her home, where Yor and Yuri liked to play in the summers, when young. Deep enough to swim in, never cold, and sometimes Yor liked to lay back and let herself float, eyes open to a crack, enough to let in a sliver of the sky and the bright sun.
Floating, in a river.
How they moved, the floating and flowing, his patience with her inexperience, his joy being with her...happy to swim together. He brushed her skin with his fingers, kisses, and his tongue, tasting Yor's sweetness, saltiness—and Yor yelped—her tanginess.
Yor too touched. Her shy, curious fingers explored, sometimes making him grunt in pleasure, a few times finding areas he was ticklish, like the back of his knees. As Loid touched that bullet hole scar on her bottom, Yor tickled behind his knees. Loid yelped. He smirked and gave her a look. Yor drew back, giggling. He tickled back and they laughed. Sometimes their soft touches tickled without meaning to, and Yor burst into giggles with a somewhat bemused Loid looking on.
In their shared bed, he pierced her.
When he entered, it pinched. Only for a moment. Yor felt herself expand, open. The first and likely only man who would ever know her this way. When she looked at the white sheets there were no drops of blood. Pierced, she who'd killed many. In it, was a death and a birth.
Maybe Loid did draw blood. Blood carried the life-force. Their lives mingled, not only with the vows they said, yet this too, how they fit so naturally, as one. A bond which could draw blood.
That which drew blood was sacred. Yor never took her killing lightly.
This bond which could draw blood, two impure people made true in their exclusive devotion. Somehow right, to be set apart with this man, the only one who could understand her as she was. Wasn't that proof enough of her purity?
No wonder people killed for this, killed over it.
To swim in this again and again with you, my brother, my friend, my love.
...
Loid felt like he swam in the ocean. He recalled a time he swam in the sea (for pleasure or for a mission, he couldn't remember) yet he wanted to experience swimming in that cold, powerful water and as he swam the waves grew choppier. Saltwater surged into his face, his nose, yet he pressed on, following the shoreline, for he was a strong swimmer. He dove into the waves, plunging forward, carried into the next, swimming with strong stokes. He made it to shore, and crashed onto the quartz sand with a happy cry, arms aching, chest tired, swim achieved. Risky, but he hadn't drowned. And having tasted it, he wanted to swim in the ocean again.
Loid swam in a different ocean now, fearing he might drown in these surging waves, yet he swam with Yor, her and him and no one else in this sea, rolling up in waves of pleasure of together, him showing Yor the way, the beauty of her response as they learned, together. He swam in delight in mockery of those taunts that tried to drown him...
"This isn't for guys like you..."
"It'll only ever end badly..."
"In the end, you'll have to leave..."
Oh, yeah? See me now.
—I'm swimming, and she's in this ocean with me.
Swimming, in the ocean.
He came to a cresting wave, and a whisper crashed inside of him. You know who is with Yor now, who's always been with Yor? It isn't Twilight. It isn't Loid Forger..
—It was always me.
Carried up, about to surge, tossing his sweaty bangs out of eyes, and he needs to confess.
"Yor, I, I'm—"
"Hush." Yor put a finger to his lips. "Keep going." She rolled her head, her mouth curled into a smile of soft delight.
Not yet, love. Keep swimming with me.
...
The late morning sunlight entered the bedroom in soft, streaming sheets. Yor rose up on an elbow to study her husband. He lay on his back, eyes shut, hands on his chest, his breathing regular, as if asleep.
Yor knew he was awake. She traced the side of Loid's face with her finger.
"Hello, love."
Loid turned to Yor. His sky-eyes flicked open. Yor smiled into them and reached to caress his messy hair. The rippling silence in Loid's eyes spoke volumes.
He stared at Yor, his quivering water-eyes fixed on her and something beyond her. He didn't talk, his eyes speaking, yet their message was hard to read. What was he thinking?
"My husband." Yor's hand lingered on his cheek. "Loid."
His eyes, calm before, like a clear pool, became jolted with agitation, like when a stone is thrown in into water. Something raw flinched in Loid's face.
"Don't. Don't call me that."
"But—" Yor removed her hand. "What do I call you?"
"I'm sorry..." He drew back.
She brushed his fingers. "What is it? Your name."
Then a shy smile played on his face. "Hold on, my love."
Loid (aka I-have-another-name-Loid) left the bed and shimmied into his underwear. He zipped to the door, but not before peering at Yor and giving her a playful wink.
"Wait here, okay? Just a minute."
Yor nodded. She pulled the sheets around herself and felt cold without Loid's nearby warmth. She grabbed Loid's white t-shirt from the floor and pulled it over herself. She sat up, her brow knitting. What had gotten into Loid? Just a minute gone and she missed him already. Yor wrapped her arms tighter around herself. Footsteps padded in.
"I'm back."
"What's gotten into you?"
"Here." Loid held out one of Anya's stuffed animals to Yor.
"Mr. Lion?"
"It's a clue." Loid pushed his blonde bangs out of his eyes and beamed with a boyish giddiness Yor wasn't used to seeing in her calm husband. He sat cross-legged in beside her. "Take a guess."
Yor held Mr. Lion. "What am I guessing? I don't follow."
Loid grinned. "What do you call lions?"
"A game." Yor gave him a bemused smile. Right now, he was just like Anya.
"Who are you? Can you tell me?" Yor considered Mr. Lion in her hands. "King of the Jungle."
"Come on, Yor." He laughed. "Names."
—Names.
"Let me guess." Yor grinned at Loid, then Mr. Lion. "I know. Leonard."
"Close, but no cigar."
"Leonardo? Leopold?"
"Cold and colder. Try again."
Her husband winked. He was enjoying this. His eager face was near her shoulder as Yor stared at Mr. Lion's dopey sweet face, who told no tales.
"Lion-nell? That sounds off."
"Lionel, you mean?" Loid arched his brow. "Good guess."
Yor sighed. She held Mr. Lion tighter. She was getting closer. What was that you called lions? Yor smiled bright at him. "Leo!"
She was caught in the unmasked gaze of her husband's eyes.
"Say it again." His voice shook. "Say my name, Yor."
Yor set aside Mr. Lion and took his hand.
"Leo."
He gripped her hand, and there were tears in his eyes, and he fought to keep calm. She stared into his eyes. With her thumb, Yor stroked away one of his tears..
"Leo...my husband."
He crushed her into a hug. "Thank you...Say it again. It's been years."
Held close, Yor felt tears falling from her own eyes. He trusted her.
"Leo." That was the mystery man she saw in his eyes. "It's wonderful to meet you."
Leo-Loid laughed through his tears. "Pleased to meet you, too."
They hugged a long time, Yor holding him as his tears took their course. Then they held hands, looking into each others' eyes.
"Thank you for telling me." Yor smiled. "What should I call you?"
Leo-Loid tried to smile. "Call me both. Loid and Leo. When we're alone...call me Leo all you like."
"Leo..." Yor tried it. "It's nice. But why doesn't it suit you? Why don't you use it?"
Leo-Loid glanced at the clear sky framed in the window. He looked back to Yor.
"There's no easy answer. The simplest is that I connected that name with with my childhood pain, when I was alone in my bombed city, crying, helpless..." His voice dropped to a whisper. "No one was left who knew me by that name. It was easier to forget and become someone else."
"Oh, Loid—Leo, I mean."
"I don't think I'll ever get tired of hearing you say it." He answered Yor with a kiss.
Yor giggled through his kiss. They parted, brushing noses.
"Could we...try again?"
"The kiss?"
"No, Leo. You know..."
"Oh, Yor. Of course." He slipped off his underwear and helped Yor off with her t-shirt. They embraced each other.
Yor smiled. Loid pierced her? Or Leo?
Both names, he was just as sweet. That authenic imperfect man shining through his cracking facade. Let it erode. How wonderful to see him shine true.
Loid and Leo. Her husband.
A/N: Wow. I hope that felt awesome for him, to finally be known by his true name. Names are important. And oh my, I do hope Endo Sensei (eventually) will reveal Loid's true name.
If you've read "Because It's Real" then you knew his name, Loid mentions it there too. (Not to Yor.)
I chose to write part of this from Yor's POV because I know this day would be incredibly important to her, and we as readers can experience the impact of Loid's true name reveal with her. It was fun to write a more open Loid for a change. (He deserves it, guys)
Poem credits: "My love is..." Sir Phillip Sidney; "She walks in beauty" Lord Byron; "A garden locked..." Song of Songs; "There is no penance..." John Donne's "To His Mistress on Going to Bed"
Hope you enjoyed that!
Up next: More family time, with Anya and Papa. (Will he tell Anya? Or will she guess his true name, too?)
~Peace, Katsumi.