Walking into a happy session of reunion lovemaking

A/N: I really was planning to update sooner than it turned out, but my computer had an unfortunate watery accident, so I had to wait to buy a replacement, and then I got extra busy with work again.

Regardless, given my slower pace over the last handful of chapters, I ended up reevaluating some of my plans for the coming chapters and making some changes to reduce some extra filler/character development content and pick up the pace with the coming zombie hunting operation since on second thought, there should be sufficient time for that during the operation and later on still.

Also, I have been recommended by a couple of my readers to consider starting the chapters with a small, relevant excerpt from either the last chapter or an older chapter that may become relevant for the plot of the current one. I thought that was an interesting idea to test out, especially since the gaps between updates this year have been growing longer than I wanted, and sometimes I reference stuff from chapters that were posted many months before, so I am starting that with one. Please let me know what you think about that and if you find it useful or a bit intrusive.

At any rate, thanks for your patience this year with my slower update rate, especially to those of you who still care enough to leave comments. And with all that said, let's pick up where we left off last time:

Previously...

Then you paused, looking back over your shoulder, the playful grin returning. “And for what it’s worth…Garcia’s told me during our first night together that Vanders has a kinky pattern of using her height and strength to her advantage when dominating women in bed by flipping them upside down in the air and drinking their nectar straight from the source while they hang in there, screaming in pleasure. So, if you have ever been annoyed by being the shortest one in your family and the easiest one to lift by extension, this is one scenario where you can turn it to your delicious advantage if it comes to it.”

Anjali’s mouth formed a perfect, silent ‘O’ of blushing shock, followed by a helpless, giggling snort that she quickly smothered with both hands. Her entire body shook with suppressed laughter and overwhelming, liberating excitement.

You left her there, flushed and grinning against the door, the weight of her secret seemingly gone and now replaced by the dizzying gravity of the possibilities ahead. As you approached the door, you heard the sound of two women moaning in pleasure, oblivious to the dedicated fangirl who had just been given permission to dream and plan about them in a whole new way.

And then you suppressed a chuckle. "And here I thought that her porn star older sister was going to be the main entertaining, steamy catch to come from her family. But I am not complaining. I can certainly work with and experiment with this."

And with that, you opened the unlocked door without knocking.

Michael Banner's (The MC's) POV

The apartment door swung inward on silent hinges.

You stepped into the dim coolness of the Patel family’s living room, the thick carpet muffling your steps. The air was close, carrying the familiar scents of sweat, exertion, and something warmer...muskier. The rhythmic sound was clearer now, a wet, ardent rhythm punctuated by soft, shuddering breaths.

You moved through the short hallway, the archway to the living room framing the scene perfectly.

Sergeant First Class Kristen Vanders lay stretched on the dark blue couch, a study in powerful, naked grace. Her tall, muscular frame was all corded strength, and her skin was coated with a sheen of light sweat. Her focus was so absolute at that moment that she didn't seem to notice your presence, what with her head buried between the thighs of the woman balanced above her.

Staff Sergeant Josephine Garcia was suspended upside down, her back braced against the couch’s arm, her hands flat on the floor for stability. Her dark hair pooled on the carpet. Her face, flushed and slack with building rapture, was tilted toward the doorway. Toward you.

And that was when her eyes, half-lidded and clouded, snapped wide open in recognition.

Then reflexive alarm, sharp and instant. A silent gasp caught in her throat. Her body stiffened, and you got the impression that the pleasure she was currently feeling was warring with the shock of being seen like that by her Master.

But you didn’t move. You simply met her gaze and held it. You offered a slow, deliberate blink, then a faint but growing smile. Your expression was calm and neutral. You raised one hand, just a few inches from your side, as if gently trying to say that it was okay and she could enjoy the ride.

The conflict in her eyes held for a heartbeat longer. Then, trust and affection filled her gaze and overrode the surprise. Her eyelids fluttered closed again. A low, surrendering moan tore from her lips as her body convulsed, giving in completely to the climax that had been cresting.

Vanders’s hands, large and firm, gripped Garcia’s hips, holding her in place as she drank from her, the intensity of her ministrations increasing, coaxing out every last shuddering wave.

It lasted another thirty seconds. Then a minute passed as time stretched in the humid air.

Finally, Vanders’s relentless pace slowed to a series of slow, languid licks, then ceased. She released a satisfied, breathy sigh against Garcia’s skin, nuzzling there with an affection that was palpable.

Garcia, spent and boneless, sagged in her inverted position, her chest heaving.

It was then that Vanders shifted, turning her head slightly to press a kiss to Garcia’s inner thigh. Her gaze, still hazy with passion and victory, swept sideways...and landed directly on you, standing silently in the archway.

She froze.

Every muscle in her tall body suddenly locked on instinct. The intimate, post-coital softness vanished, replaced by the instantaneous defensive rigidity of a soldier caught in a **** position. Her eyes, a striking pale blue, widened in reflexive concern.

“Kristen.” Garcia’s voice cut through, soft but firm. She was still upside down, her words slightly breathless. “It’s fine. It’s him. It’s Master Michael.”

Vanders’s head swiveled back to look at her girlfriend, confusion etching her features through a noticeable frown. “Huh...that's...that's definitely strange," she said slowly with a tone of wonder. "We’re—he’s just standing there—and while a part of me instinctively feels like I want to bolt or even shoot him for watching us like this, it barely feels like a weak echo in my head compared to the strength of the realization that he is perfectly in his right to watch us have sex since he owns us both."

“I know.” Garcia pushed herself up with her arms, rolling her body with a practiced grace until she was sitting on the edge of the couch, facing you.

She made no move to cover herself, but the act didn't feel like exhibitionism to you. More like seamless, accepted normality for Garcia, even if it didn't yet come as naturally to her girlfriend. A testament to the claim, you supposed. “He’s our Master, our new Supreme Commander, and our rightful owner all rolled into one. So, it should make sense that it feels more okay than not.”

You suppressed the urge to shake your head in wonder at the incredible influence of the marker that made all of this possible, even if your attitude once claiming such power over them had clearly helped ease them into it. Then you noticed that Vanders started looking from Garcia’s calm, assured face back to your observing and analytical one. The combat-readiness didn’t seem to leave her, but her posture relaxed a fraction, though her expression remained somewhat guarded, like that of a proud woman in the middle of reassessing a completely new set of social rules.

You finally moved, taking three steps into the room and leaning against the back of a plush armchair. Your arms were crossed loosely.

“Don’t stop on my account unless you have had enough for now,” you finally said, your voice soft but clear in the quiet room. “Seems like you were in the middle of a highly anticipated reunion. And I did say I wasn't going to forbid you from doing what felt right then.”

Garcia actually smiled, a small, private thing. Instead of continuing, though, you watched her reach for a discarded t-shirt and pull it on. At first you thought it was out of modesty, but then you realized the air was a bit cool, especially now that their bodies weren't in the throes of passion anymore and thus being heated by the process. “We were, and it was so wonderful while it lasted. Thank you again for that, Sir. Much appreciated.”

Vanders slowly sat up, the sheet tangling around her legs. She made no such move to cover herself as her own gaze analytical took you in. “So you’re the owner of this building and everyone on it,” she stated instead of asking, the sharper edge of her tone replaced by a blunt, assessing curiosity.

“And you’re the Driven Golden Girl of Camp Lakota,” you replied evenly, a faint echo of Anjali’s fan-girling in your tone as you smiled lightly. “Fifth-generation army brat. Jumped two ranks out of basic due to your past achievements in the Girl Scouts and have managed to lead a successful career in the military while rising through the ranks over the last decade.”

A flicker of surprise crossed her gaze. “You’ve done your homework.”

“I make it a point to know the assets in my group,” you replied. “Just because I am in charge of you all doesn't mean I know everything. So, that means I need to know what I have to work with when assigning missions in this dangerous environment as well as have an idea of who may be the most capable members of the group at my disposal when it comes to giving a particular kind of advice."

Vanders’s lips quirked at that, almost like a pleased smile. The tension bled away another degree as she slowly nodded in approval. “An eminently reasonable position, especially given the circumstances. Better to have that in an owner than not, I suppose.”

Garcia chuckled in response, her voice low and warm, as she squeezed Vanders’s thigh.

“Glad you approve,” you said, chuckling a bit yourself. “Because the next mission starts in about an hour. We’re clearing the nearby apartment building across the streets from any trapped walkers. Scavenging, securing, and eliminating any remaining threats and all that. So, I need you both sharp, hydrated, and dressed. Report to Lieutenant Mills and Medical Sergeant Zhang after you are done here so that they can better assess what role to give you in the coming operation. By which I mean, I am glad you are feeling better, but I don't know how high the chance is that physical exertion inherent in the coming mission may worsen any lingering damage, especially inside your head, given that you were knocked **** for a bit. So, I will feel more comfortable leaving that decision to their professionalism and the fact that since they have already served alongside you in dangerous situations before, they probably have relevant insights into your stamina and pain tolerance in the face of peril. As such, regardless of what they decide, accept their ruling on mission assignment as if it were coming from me.”

The shift was instantaneous. The languid intimacy of the room evaporated from their body language, replaced by a crackling sense of purpose. And before you, you could see two soldiers understanding that their personal moment had concluded for now, so the time had come to focus on a new objective.

Vanders nodded, already swinging her long, naked legs off the couch. “Understood. We’ll be ready.”

You paused at the archway, looking at them as they grabbed some towels near the couch to dry off their sweat and then get back into uniform. Two formidable women you had somehow claimed, and that fact combined with the logic behind your commands was making them transition seamlessly from tender lovers to focused warriors with just a few words. You sighed and then decided to focus yourself.

“Welcome aboard, Sergeant Vanders. It is truly great to have you as a member of my group,” you said, trying to express with your voice how much you meant it. “And I am glad you’re on your feet again.”

She met your gaze and gave you a single, firm nod. You understood. No more words were needed in reply, at least not where the driven soldier was concerned.

You left them to dress and prepare, the sound of their murmured, efficient planning replacing the earlier sounds of passion. As you walked, you scratched your chin in deep thought. The group was stronger now. And the more you thought about it, the coming clearing operation felt less like a **** gamble and more like the next logical, calculated step.

And so you nodded firmly to yourself. You had a building to secure; a better future for your group to fight for success by success; and the tools, human and otherwise, to do it. The momentum, for now, was yours.

And that meant it was time to fight.

A/N: That's it for now. Thanks again for all the support. Until next time, which I do foresee should be way sooner this time if I don't get more unexpected equipment failures. In the meantime, please let me know what you think, and happy reading across Chyoa.