---Kor's perspective---

"And if you need anything at all, Director, my husband and I are just in the apartment next door to yours!" beams my wife at the woman who stole the job she deserves.

I groan internally at the thought of this R'qali disturbing our downtime to make demands of us.

Jemma's just finished showing her around the apartment that she and her lifemate are moving into in the residential arm of the building, at the end of a rather exhausting tour.

"Thank you, Deputy Director. I will call on you if necessary." acknowledges the suspiciously polite R'qali.

"Alright then, Ma'am. I'll leave you and your lifemate to settle in for now. I look forward to working with you!" beams Jemma back through the door as the two of us step out onto the dangerously unguarded walkway and I watch her back to make sure she doesn't get anywhere near the 6 metre drop to the next level down.

As soon as the door closes, my wife turns and gives me a breathtaking smile as we wordlessly make for our own apartment.

She steps through the door and bends down, blocking my way forward as she undoes her sandals.

Still, she gives me a very nice view as she does, presenting her shapely derrière behind her, so I'm not complaining…

She stands back up (179cm now rather than the 186 she was in those wedges) and gives me the space to bend down and pull off my own shoes.

I don't take my eyes off her while I do, though, because I know I'm about to be treated to a sight.

My wife reaches up her sleeveless, toned, slender, gleaming and profoundly rich brown skinned arms to her jet black, box braid beehive.

Her slim fingers unfastening the braids wrapped around the outside, she releases a hundred and fifty or so more and shakes out her head, causing them all to fall loose and hang down to just below the level of her belt.

I will never tire of watching my wife take down her gorgeous hair!

Knowing this, she turns her head to look back at me over her left shoulder and grins, every bit as stunning as the day I first met her.

She sashays confidently away from me, swaying her hips hypnotically as she walks over to our kitchen beside the doors to the balcony, a 306m drop on the far side of its railing.

She ducks down beneath the counter and comes back up with a bottle of Château de la Riveclaire Saint-Émilion and two glasses.

"I'd say we've earned ourselves a glass or two, wouldn't you agree, my heart(?)" she smirks, plucking out a corkscrew from the pot on the countertop.

---Jemma's perspective---

My husband's lips twitch with the lightest phantom of a smile as he turns to start taking off his steel-grey jacket and tie to hang up beside the door.

I bite my lip as I watch the black shirt, perfectly tailored (by me) to flatter his absolutely. to. die. for. upper body!

I revert back to a simple smile as he turns back around to me.

Having excavated the cork from the capsule-congé, I begin working in the twisted piece of pointed metal.

I could, of course, just give it to the omniappliance to open for me but one simply cannot ruin a good bottle of wine by foregoing the ritual(!)

Kor strides past the far side of the countertop, making for the balcony doors.

"We can take the wine inside if you'd like, my heart?" I state as the cork *squeeeak*s and *pop*s out of the neck.

Surprised, he doesn't answer, just standing where I stopped him.

I do very much prefer to spend time with him on the balcony, so that's what we normally do, but I know he prefers inside (away from the precipitous drop on the outside of the building) and he's been such a good boy today, I think he's earned a treat!

I pour us out a glass each before recorking the bottle, taking both and rounding the countertop.

The fragrance of this absolutely perfect fermentation of merlot, cabernet franc and cabernet sauvignon grapes already has my mouth watering!

I hand the Bordelais his glass of wine, imported straight from his homeland, and raise my own to him, smiling "To the nation of France… for gifting the universe the finest wines, the sultriest language and the sexiest men that there are to exist(!)"

He puffs mirthfully through his cute nose as our glasses *tchin* together and we both "Salut!" in unison and raise them to our mouths.

I breathe deeply as I sip, getting the notes of black cherry, violet and just a hint of chocolate from our preferred brand before the liquid hits my tongue with a positive flavoursome little death(!)

Kor, I know, enjoys his wine just as much as me, if not more so, though you'd never know it from his face.

He sits down in an armchair facing the windowed balcony door and places his glass on the side table.

I smirk and place the bottle beside it.

---Kor's perspective---

My wife puts the Riveclaire on my right and brings the back of her knees to the right side of my legs.

She bends down and comes to sit sideways across my lap, her right thigh pressed against my lower stomach, her behind nestled between my left hip and the left arm of the chair.

Her braids fall over my left shoulder, causing me a pleasant tingle as she leans her torso against mine.

Her right hand reaches across and behind herself to apprehend my left, pull it to wrap around her slender trunk and rest against her stomach.

She then raises that arm to place it across my shoulders, between my neck and the seatback, bringing the tips of her fingers to gently tickle the side of my head around my right ear.

She nestles into me, her right breast squashing against my left pectoral.

The delightful scent of her coconut and shea butter skincream mixes with the aroma of the wine and her own fragrance for an utterly incomparable olfactory experience!

She brings her lips to my left ear and, whispering just right to induce waves of pleasure by activating my autonomous sensory meridian response, says "You were so well behaved today, my heart… I really appreciate you being such a good boy for me…"

I immediately melt, as this incredible woman has always had the power to make me.

She takes another sip from her glass (allowing me to hear the scintillating sound of wine passing her lips, circulating around her mouth and being swallowed down) before reaching across me to place her glass beside mine and the bottle.

Her left hand comes to my clavicle and begins buttoning down my shirt.

She reveals the silver Mjölnir pendant hanging around my neck and keeps going, undoing to halfway down and then pulling the unbuttoned halves apart to expose the better part of my chest.

The warmth of her body against mine, the sensation of her fingers and breath at my chest and against the sides of my head, the smells of her, her skin cream, her breath, the wine, the validation of being told that I am, in fact, her good boy… It all causes some fairly unavoidable things to happen.

My pulse quickens to redirect blood from less important places (like my brain) down to the place my body has decided its currently needed most.

My aZande Queen emits a breathy, voiceless chuckle as she feels me swelling beneath her, only quickening the process.

She brings her lips to my left cheek and kisses me there before whispering "How about we finish our wine… have a quick dinner and… then move things to the bedroom for a little 'evening exercise', my heart?"

---Jemma's perspective---

I playfully push my (much bulkier than me) husband across the threshold of our room, the wine I've had making me feel even friskier than I was earlier.

The (once mine) sword and the (once his) hammer (which we exchanged on our wedding day, in accordance with his religion) hang in front of my shield on the far wall from the foot of our bed.

I turn on the privacy field and Kor's head twitches, curiously.

"What if the director comes to ask us for something?" he frowns.

"Then she can come back in an hour(!)" I sparkle back.

He puffs and brings his hands to the buttons I didn't undo earlier.

I step forward and catch his wrists, gently applying downward pressure to push his hands away from the task they were trying to perform.

I take his right wrist in my hands and unfasten the buttons at his cuff, then do the same on his left.

I grin down at him as he relaxes his arms back to his sides.

I reach to the hem of his shirt and tug it free of his trousers.

Then, I bring my hand between its plackets and, with a single deft motion, slice downwards, undoing the remaining buttons without damaging any of them.

I take the two halves in my hands and strip them back, over his shoulders.

The garment falls to the floor, leaving the gorgeous, barrelchested Frenchman standing before me, topless.

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My mouth positively waters at the sight of his thick, muscular arms!

His religious pendant gleams as his rounded, pale skinned chest rises and falls beneath it.

I reach to the chain and, with due reverence for the fact that this man holds his Gods to be as true as I hold Mbori to be, lift it off of him.

I step to the dresser and carefully lay it down.

No longer in any danger of accidental sacrilege now that I don't have the 300 year old relic in my hands anymore, I excitedly return to my half naked lover.

I reach next for his belt.

Unbuckling it, to pull it free of its loops, I enjoy the way Kor's entire body very slightly sways toward me from the tension I apply.

I think briefly about telling him to bend over but reconsider.

He's been such a good boy today that I think we can skip any spankings and go straight to rewards(!)

I toss the belt down on top of his shirt and reach to push his lowers over his hips to the floor.

My husband's short, extremely fat erection launches upwards as soon as it's no longer imprisoned by his clothing.

He steps free of the legholes, his wide, flat feet slapping the tiled ground as he brings them back down.

My man now standing before me entirely nude and rock hard, I take a moment to admire him in all his glory!

With a contented sigh, I raise my arms and instruct "Now be a good boy and return the favour, my heart(!)"

---Kor's perspective---

Naked before my still fully clothed wife, I step forward.

I reach to the hem of her formfitting, sleeveless, orange turtleneck.

I work my fat fingers beneath it and start pulling upwards.

Her sable skinned breasts catch for a moment before dropping from the bottom of it, causing a fresh swell of excitement in various parts of me.

Being a full 6cm shorter than her (as well as having slightly shorter arms proportionally) I wouldn't quite have the height to pull it over her raised arms.

Fortunately, she bends them slightly to accommodate me.

It seems she's not looking for an excuse to punish me today… which is nice…

As exciting as it is to be on the receiving end of my own belt, sometimes it's just pleasurable to have a session that's more focused on tenderness.

Complying with her apparent desire not to punish me, I dutifully fold up her top and place it down on the dresser rather than casting it to the floor, as she did with everything but the Mjölnir my Goði gave me to mark my conversion.

Returning to her, I carefully unfasten and remove her belt from her white trousers before placing it with her turtleneck.

Coming back to her once more (careful not to take what was not offered to me), I gently pull her trousers from her hips.

Crouching all the way down, I hold the garment down to allow her to more easily step from it.

As soon as she has, I immediately straighten up, fold it and place it with her other clothes.

I turn back to admire the most spectacularly beautiful woman I've ever known, standing entirely naked, bar her orange thong that perfectly matches the colour of her turtleneck, and looking so supremely confident in it that you would never guess that the 'panties-only' look wasn't the current cutting edge of fashion(!)

She smirks and beckons me back in a way that it's impossible to misinterpret as an invitation to finish undressing her.

Like the good boy I am, I return to the Goddess among women who deigned to make me hers that night, all those years ago, in Maucousinat.

She wraps her arms around me and bends down.

Her right hand comes up to the top back of my head and tilts my face upward, to allow her to meet my lips, as her left pulls me close by the small of my back.

I bring my arms up, under hers, to her shoulderblades, gently caressing them.

She judders with breathy laughter as her left hand comes behind her to wrap around my right wrist.

I feel her wedding ring dig, ever so slightly, into my flesh as she firmly pushes my hand downwards to place it against her left buttock.

Taking the unspoken instruction, I begin massaging the supple flesh of her arsecheek beneath my stout fingers.

As unbelievable as it seems now, I was once this woman's superior!

Back in officer training for the 3,782nd Marines, Urban Assault Regiment, my skills in command were recognised and I rapidly made captain while Jemma never made it past lieutenant, though she saved my life more times than I can count!

Owing her my life is a debt I intend to repay!

Whatever this woman asks of me, whatever possible requests she ever makes, I will fulfil!

I'll even try my best at impossible ones, if only for her pleasure in punishing me when I fail and mine in being punished(!)

My manhood is squashed between my belly and her panties as she holds me tight to her, still helping herself to my lips… which are, of course, her lips to help herself to!

She presses her enchanting chest into my (not so enchanting) one so hard she actually pushes my centre of mass out of my base of support and causes me to stumble backwards a step.

She freezes and breaks from the kiss.

My heart is in my throat as I wait for the determination of whether losing my footing is punishmentworthy.

Her eyes are closed and her face is unreadable for a moment.

Then "Get on the bed, my heart…" she smiles.

---Jemma's perspective---

Immediately, my former captain turns and obediently marches over to our bed and lifts his stout, toned, muscular left leg to mount it before collapsing down onto the silk sheets and rolling onto his back.

If Kor had had his way, I'm sure we would've ended up with a bed not too different from the ones we slept on in the Marines(!) Luckily, I was able to spank some sense into him(!)

I slowly strut towards him, massively exaggerating the roll of my hips while bringing my left palm to rest on the top left of my pelvis, feeling the wing of my thong beneath it.

I don't lose the underwear as I climb up after him.

It's funny! Many other Dommes and Doms I've known in my life have expressed the opinion that they think their subs being naked but for pants/panties is sexiest! That just panties is somehow more humiliating than full frontal nudity!

I've never seen it that way, personally…

Personally, I see being the only one to have even a single piece of clothing on as a badge of my superior station in the bedroom(!)

I bring my left foot to just left of his right hip and my right to just right of his left.

With a sultry grin down at the man, absolutely helpless against me despite the raw power of his unrestrained body, I drop down.

The sensation of his thick cock between my labia, only the thin fabric separating them, is absolutely electrifying!

Grinding against him in a way that causes his large, green eyes to close and tense from the tease, I ask "You want release… don't you, my heart?" my husband's language managing to triple how obscenely sensual those words sound.

French truly is the language of lovers… the language of pillowtalk… the language of sweet nothings…

It's a language which somehow manages to make any words spoken in it sound like the moans of pleasure one makes when experiencing the rising ecstasy before an orgasm(!)

My husband does not return any words, just wagging his adorable brow shelf up and down in a nod.

"Do you think you deserve it?" I pose, evilly.

"I do, Mistress…" he answers, breathlessly.

"Really? Have you been a good enough boy for it, my heart?" I grin, pressing my pelvis down on him in a tease.

"I have, Mistress…" he moans.

"Have you now…? And are you going to keep being my good boy? Keep obeying my eeevery order?"

"I am, Mistress…!" he almost sobs.

"Weeell then… I suppose I must reward you… mustn't I?" I sparkle "Get your hands on my arse and keep them there until I tell you otherwise, my heart…"

His obedience is immediate and reflexive. The moment the words leave my lips, his wrists slide from my knees, up the outsides of my thighs and his strong, sturdy hands clamp down on my cheeks, either side of the narrow strip of orange fabric passing from my coccyx to my crotch.

My hips raise up and my left hand reaches down to bend his girthy cock to a right angle from his sexy body, drawing it into alignment with my sexy body.

For some idea of just how thick he is, without squeezing him, I can't quite get my thumb and fingers to meet!

My right hand comes to the gap between our sexes and pushes my minimalist panties to one side, into my inguinal crease.

I shudder in pleasure as I come down and all my heart's girth spreads my insides.

My upper body tips forward and my hands brace against Kor's chest, my dark skin beautifully silhouetted against his almost luminously pale skin in the dim light.

The beautiful boy swallows as my braids cascade over my shoulders to tickle his sides, forming a privacy curtain on either side of us(!)

His hands still exactly where I put them on my arse, I raise my hips, then drop them down once more.

---Kor's perspective---

My Mistress's body bounces up and down on top of mine so fast I'm actually having a little trouble keeping my hands where she instructed.

Her breasts sway, her long braids dance, her eyes close and her mouth opens as her womanhood absolutely dominates my penis!

Her nails dig into my skin, just below my clavicle.

"Right hand… left breast." she orders.

Immediately, I release my grip from her left cheek and transfer it, under her arm, to her chest.

"Massage it." she appends.

I squeeze and squash the sublimely soft, ebony flesh my Mistress has deigned to allow me to touch.

I continue doing exactly as she has instructed until she begins to flag.

Losing steam, she breathlessly orders "Take…*huff*… over…"

Immediately, my hands both transfer to the sides of her hips and my core flexes to raise my pelvis and her entire body with it.

I hold her up with my hands for an instant as my pelvis falls and my length is drawn out of her. Then, by bringing her back down, I'm reenveloped inside her.

Knowing I don't have her stamina, I set a much more ferocious pace than she did, aiming to bring us both to climax quickly.

Worrying that I might be falling short in my duty somehow, I beg "Does my cock please you, Mistress? Am I making you feel good enough? Am I being a good boy for you, Mistress?"

Her open mouth twists into a sultry smirk as she answers "Yes…*huff*… you are!…*huff* You are…*huff*…your Mistress's…*huff*… best boy!"

The validation proves too much for me.

I burst inside her at her words, my unpermitted orgasm causing her to shriek and shudder from her rightful place, above me.

---Jemma's perspective---

I lie on the bed with my good boy, my breasts pressed into his back, my right humerus between his neck and the pillows and the fingers of my left hand stroking through his scarlet hair as I act as his big spoon.

"I'm sorry I came inside you without permission." he apologises.

"That's alright, my heart. I was about to give an order to that effect anyway(!)" I smile tenderly.

We return to silence as I give my good boy the necessary aftercare.

Transferring my left hand to his chest, I eventually speak "Listen… Kor… I just want to let you know… I really appreciate it…"

Turning his head in a way that causes his cranium to press down on the inside of my upper arm, he asks "Appreciate what?"

"Everything…" I smile "…I appreciate you being on this planet here with me! I appreciate you living on the top floor of a building hundreds of metres tall despite your fear of heights! I appreciate you subbing for me when anyone looking at us would assume you were the Dom and I the sub(!) I appreciate you being you! I appreciate you being with me! All of it!… You're just so… uniquely perfect for me that I feel like Mbori must've broken the mould when he made you(!)"

"I was made in a lab, Jemma… Mbori had nothing to do with it(!)" he quips.

"Mbori has something to do with everything, my heart… even people made in labs(!)" I correct, smiling.

He chuckles "I appreciate you agreeing to have me, Jemma. I appreciate nothing more than that I have a place at your side as you go through your life! I thank the Norns for entwining our lives…" then thinks for a moment before adding "…I also appreciate you agreeing to go to university in Bordeaux with me, after our service."

"Yes, well… I was already living in Bordeaux and planning to go there for uni before the War… plus, your paZande was absolutely to shit at that point! You never could have managed coming with me if I'd gone to Bangassou(!)"

"I got better!" he objects.

"Hmmm… debatable(!)" I tease.

He grumbles, goodnaturedly.

There's another moment of silence which I break by saying "Speaking of Bordeaux…" in a tone that causes him to look over his shoulder again with a worried expression.

"Speaking of Bordeaux?" he asks with adorable nervousness.

"Yes, my heart… I just… I've been doing some thinking lately and… look… I know we both want kids and, still, we've somehow managed to spend 30 years putting it off because it was never the right time… And, with us just having taken over from Jahnavi and Matthew and having to stay with the new director to make sure she doesn't torch the place (either accidentally or otherwise) it's still not the right time…"

He breathes out a defeated exhale as his face falls.

"Buuuuut…" I say, causing him to perk back up "…I think I'm ready to start making plans."

"Plans?" he breathes.

"Yes… my heart… plans…" I smile.

He does not speak, waiting for me to explain.

"Well… we need to give this woman enough time to acclimatise and ourselves enough time to be sure she's not here with underhanded motives, we need to either give Stelios and Brynjar enough time to get comfortable with the idea of replacing us or we need to give enough notice that the Diplomatic corps can send out more experienced ambassadors and we need to serve out a six month notice after we've made the transfer request but…"

His eyes glimmer with hope.

"…I think we can give it 3 years… What do you say, my heart? Can you wait another 3 years?… Will you come back to Bordeaux and finally start a family with me then?"

He snorts "You didn't have to ask, Jemma! Nothing would make me happier!"

I beam "Wonderful… I'll start making preparations, my heart!"

A smirk twists his mouth as he observes "Never thought I'd become a father at nearly 60(!)"

"Neither did I(!)" I chuckle before asking "Hey, we've got another big day tomorrow, what are you thinking for breakfast?"

He considers for a moment before saying "I thiiink… pancakes?"

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