His New Wife

༺ ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝔽𝕠𝕦𝕣 ༻

"Can we...?"

    Tord looks down at his fiancée, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. "Can we what?" He asks and Mona quickly sits up, her face a deep red. "N-Nothing! Just forget I said anything!" She quickly lays on her side, back to Tord. "Good night, Tord. See you in the morning!" Tord continues to stare at Mona for a moment before the pieces click, making him smirk to himself. Carefully, he lays down and faces the same direction Mona is, pressing his chest to her back. "No need to be shy, min liten kattunge. You know you can ask my any~thing." Mona shifts, face growing hotter by the second. "It's nothing...I'm okay." Tord slides his fingers up and down Mona's sides slowly. "Are you sure~? You seem so tense." He hums, the young woman shivering at the contact. She couldn't speak as Tord grew more and more bold. He softly trails his fingers up her hip, pulling the hem of her gown with them. "T-Tord..." She whimpers, causing him to smirk. "What is it, kattunge?" Mona turns over and faces her fiancé, panting softly. She didn't need to say anything. Tord kisses Mona, holding her close to him as he runs his hands up and down her back. She shivers once more, turning on her back and pulling Tord on top of her. He was beginning to slide the straps of her gown down when...

   The large oak doors open, revealing a disheveled Patryk. "Sir I—" His eyes go wide at the scene before him before he quickly turns his head so Mona could adjust herself. "S-Sir I know this is a personal moment but me, Paul, and a few other patrol troops caught a few enemy soldiers outside the base...they're awaiting your arrival in the holding cells." Tord perks up, sighing. "Is Paul with you?" "No sir, he's waiting in the holding cells." Tord puts on a tank top before sliding on a pair of sweatpants. He glances at the clock, the neon green numbers showing '11:34 pm'. He growls, lazily tossing on his uniform jacket. "Those bastards better have a good fucking reason to disturb mine and my fiancée's night." He mutters. As he passes Patryk, he turns to his right hand man. "Protect Mona with your life. You may have caught a few, but that doesn't mean they're all gone." "Yes sir." Tord leaves, Patryk awkwardly sitting beside Mona. "...I'm sorry for the rude intrusion, I—" Mona lets out a soft giggle. "It's okay, Pat. It was important."

    Tord grumbles as he makes his way down to the holding cells, surprising patrolling soldiers with his casual attire as he goes. Despite this, they still salute their leader. Tord enters the holding cells, being greeted by Paul. "Hello sir. They're in here." Paul notes his leader's irritated face and thrown together outfit, deciding to make this encounter quick. He opens the room that was designated for prisoners of war and stands by the cell holding the enemy soldiers. There were four of them, all shackled together. One of them eyes Tord up and down, giving him a taunting smirk. "So this is the fearsome Red Leader? Dressed like a homeless man?" They jump back when Tord slams his fist against the cell bars. "Why on god's green Earth are you sticking your fucking noses where it doesn't belong? Better yet, who sent you? I'm sure you lot aren't that stupid to have walked here yourselves." One of the soldiers looks to his comrades, seemingly debating whether he should talk or no"t. Another soldier shakes his head at him, making Tord smirk. "Now now, gentlemen. If you let your little friend here speak, maybe I'll go easy on you for ruining my night with my lovely fiancée." More silence before the soldier from before begins to speak. "Yellow Leader sent us...she wanted us to get a layout of your base before she tried attacking..." Tord sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Of course...well, a promise is a promise. Paul, would you do the honors of calling Corporal Volkov? I'm sure he'll have some fun with these four." "Yes sir." Paul salutes then pulls out his walkie. Tord does a lazy salute to the enemy soldiers before walking off.

   As Tord is making his way back to his room, he passes Corporal Volkov. "Hello Corporal. I'm assuming you're answering Paul's summons?" Corporal Volkov, real name Ivan, nods. "Yes sir. I heard that he and Patryk caught some Yellow Army scum." Tord chuckles, patting his old friend's back. "Go easy on them, yes? They followed directions like good pups, and good pups get rewarded." Ivan rolls his eyes, letting out a soft grunt of disapproval. "I'll see what I can do, sir." He makes his way down the hall before turning the corner to the holding cells. "Now, back to where I was going..."

    Tord opens his bedroom doors to reveal Mona and Patryk giggling like school girls, both of them with makeup on. Tord clears his throat, causing Patryk to shoot up and salute. "S-Sorry sir! I didn't hear you come in!" Mona stands as well, hurrying to Tord. "Please don't be upset with him. We were just goofing around." Tord looks at Patryk before letting out soft snort. "You look like a clown, soldier." After a moment, the trio begins to laugh. "I'm glad you like it, sir!" Patryk beams, then waves to the couple before heading out. Tord looks at Mona, smiling. "Do I look like a clown too, min kjærlighet?" She hums and Tord pulls her closer. "A very good looking clown." Mona squeals and laughs, pushing against his face. "C'mon, let me wash this off and we can go to bed." Tord has a mischievous grin on his face and Mona rolls her eyes. "And we can go to bed and sleep." He laughs and kisses Mona's head. "I'll be waiting, my love." She smiles and walks to the bathroom. As Tord lays down, he sighs. While he was disappointed that he and Mona couldn't finish what they started, he decided that it was for the best. He looks over as Mona exits the bathroom. She crawls into bed and cuddles with Tord. "Goodnight Tord."

"Goodnight Mona."