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If there was one thing he had learned since marrying Yor, it was that she was a force to be reckoned with. Her strength was something else especially with her slight form and she had what was called sleeper build; you really couldn’t tell from looking at her that you were about to be manhandled.
The mission had been completed hours ago, but Twilight found himself caught in a far more unexpected battle.
It started as a simple sparring session. A way to “stay in shape,” as he had phrased it when Yor casually mentioned she wanted to practice her self-defense skills. In reality, Loid had been curious. After his brief albeit intense hand to hand battle with her while indulging Anya in an exuberant castle rescue, He’d seen glimpses of her strength—enough to know she was dangerous—but he had yet to truly test it.
Now, as he twisted in her grip, muscles straining, he was starting to remember how curiosity had killed the cat.
Yor was fast. Unreasonably so. He barely had time to dodge her first strikes before she’d caught his wrist, forcing him to counter before she could lock him into a hold. Every time he slipped free, she adapted, relentlessly, smiling in a way that made his pulse spike with something that was definitely not fear.
“You’re holding back,” Loid taunted as he spun out of her grasp, aiming a low sweep at her legs. She leapt over it effortlessly, landing with a grace that should have been impossible.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Yor admitted, tilting her head with an apologetic smile.
Loid huffed out a breath, feigning offense. “That’s sweet of you, darling, but I can handle myself.”
“Oh, I know.” Yor’s eyes gleamed as she lunged, and Loid barely had time to register the shift in her stance before she was on him.
A sharp twist, a firm tug—his own momentum betrayed him, sending him tumbling backward. He caught himself before hitting the mat, flipping midair to land on his feet, but Yor was already moving.
She pressed in, her strength overwhelming as she forced him into a grapple. Loid gritted his teeth, using every ounce of his skill to maneuver around her iron grip. But it was insane how naturally she countered him. Every move he made, she had an answer for it. Every escape, she shut down in an instant.
And then, somehow—dammit, how?—she had him.
Loid let out a sharp breath as he found himself beneath her, her arms coiling around his neck in a headlock that had no right to be this effective.
His back hit the mat, and Yor straddled his waist, her thighs tightening around him to keep him from bucking her off.
“Looks like I win,” she said, beaming down at him.
Loid wheezed, struggling to pry her arm from his throat. His vision was starting to blur, oxygen slipping away faster than he could fight back. And yet—his pride refused to let him give in.
“I’m not done,” he rasped, blinking hard to keep himself grounded.
Yor giggled, shifting just slightly, but the movement sent a slow, tantalizing drag of her body against his. Loid’s brain short-circuited for half a second, and that was all she needed to tighten her hold.
He barely heard her over the blood rushing in his ears, but her next words made his stomach flip.
“Tap out, baby.”
Loid grit his teeth, every muscle in his body screaming. No. He wouldn’t. He refused.
Her smile turned amused, fond. “Stubborn.”
And then—blackness.
The last thing he heard before everything went dark was Yor’s soft sigh, her arms finally loosening.
“See? I told you I didn’t want to hurt you…”