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"Would you look at this? The place is a mess! Mordred!" Saber's calls echo through the house. "Mordred! Come out here!"

Behind her, Emiya Shiro begins to pick up the various wrappers, empty cans and bottles strewn across the floor.

"You don't need to do that, Shiro," Saber says, walking gingerly over the debris littering the entrance to the living room.

"It's really no trouble," Shirou says, with a smile. His wife's sort of love-child from the past, reincarnated as a Servant, was endearing in her attempts to build a normal life here in the city, even if there were certainly a lot of things that could be improved.

"Mordred!" Saber calls again.

"I'm in the garage!" comes the faint reply.

"Oh, I'm going to give her the biggest..." Looking like she were rolling up her sleeves to perform some harsh duty, Saber marches off towards the garage, as Shirou works at gathering the garbage up into neat and collectable piles. He had already packed the whole lot into several bags when the aforementioned Mordred appeared, her body reeking of grease and sweat, wearing a loose shirt and short pants that are littered with oilstains. Her hair is tied up into a messy bun.

"Hey there, sir," Mordred says, her eyes darting from side to side. She notices the pile of garbage arranged in order and flushes. "I'm... terribly sorry about the mess."

Shiro smiles. "It's really no trouble. Where's Saber?"

"Oh father's helping me to um..." Mordred tries to sidle through the door, but her way is blocked by Shirou's body and the many piles of garbage. "...With the bike. Could you excuse me? I need to change."

"Oh, of course, of course," Shirou says, letting the dirty woman pass. Mordred zipped through the proffered gap as if all the dogs of Hell were after her. She makes a mad dash for the bathroom, clearing the distance of a few feet in barely three seconds before getting through the threshold and slamming the door shut. She leans against the door, and sighs. Then she takes a tentative sniff of her shirt, blushes, and hurries to freshen herself up.

In five minutes, she's got most of the stink out. She dons a small bathrobe, and recalls she'd left most of her clothes upstairs. She peeks with a suspicious frown through the crack of her door, looks left and right, then dashes out with the same speed she displayed a moment ago, aiming for the second floor.

A warm hand frustrates her attempt, and she is drawn into the warm, musky embrace of Emiya Shiro. A moment later, her chin is cupped and she accepts his deep, soulful kiss. Her tense body melts against his harsh, manly frame.

"W-what are you doing... idiot?" Biting her tongue, she breaks the kiss, glaring at her father's husband with a blush-ridden glare. "Trying to do it here with him right there in the garage? Ow! Stop it!" She vainly tries to resist his wandering hands that travel through familiar territory: tracing the pathway through her smooth, but muscular abdomen, her narrow, huggable waist and her finely pert ass. It doesn't help things that she's practically naked but for the bathrobe she's wearing, and it's already being shoved aside by his insistent arms.

"I took a peek," Shirou says. "Saber's not going to be out there for a long time. Not with the state of that motorcycle. Hmmm... Almost makes me think you trashed it on purpose, but we both know you aren't that mischievous and lewd, right Mordred-san?"

"O-of course not!" Mordred exclaims, gasping as he draws one of her petite nips into his mouth. Not that anyone would put it past her to make a plan sort of like that, but she would swear up and down she hadn't been behind the mishap behind the motorcycle breaking down on the very day father and this shithead he'd married had decided to come for a visit, no siree, like she were an ambitious ho trying to get some action from her adulterous lover, one Emiya Shiro.

"For the last time, idiot, stop!" she says, trying to slither away from his grip. She is a Servant still, and it wouldn't even take a second to knock him through the walls and out through the next two streets. But she can't; she won't; more importantly she's just enjoying the thrill of being propositioned in the middle of the day by him while father's right there in her garage.

"Do you really not want this?" Shirou asks, playfully running his hand all around her muff, without directly touching it. Mordred whimpers from the warm pleasure that hovers on the edge of her consciousness, kept away by only a door that signified her reluctance; which she only needed to open to experience sublime pleasure.

The kicker was the next kiss, which introduced her yet again to Emiya's dominance in the style of tongue-fencing. Finding no further need for resistance, she lets her body slacken. A victorious Shirou smirks as he lays her down right there on the floor of the hall, her bathrobe becoming a makeshift bed.

"...Fine," she allows, her voice trembling, as he unzips his jeans. "But please make it quick."

She's learned a lot about this era, but lovemaking had not been one of them. She had deigned to use it on her previous life as the Knight of Treachery, and as a Servant, she had seen it as a means to an end, though in the end she had not needed to partake in such frivolous ways.

Her mind had then been changed by father's loving husband, whose eyes wandered often and found fresh bounty to claim as easily as a seasoned warrior reaving in the northern seas of her youth. She had been one such conquest, allured by his gentle heart, his kind demeanor, and his calm, soothing personality. It was no wonder such a mortal man had captured the heart of one no other than the illustrious King. What chance then could Mordred have had, especially when her own passions betrayed her to this man?

She had been seduced easily, spreading her legs for him like a village woman allured by the passing knight, his quiet brilliance like the rumbling cadence of a lovely spring. And he had taken her in so masterful a fashion, giving her such intense and vivid memories that the ugly side of her she'd rejected for most of her life had become something she'd accepted, had gloried in as she fell deeper and deeper into the travails of sordid lust and desire. She was a man who loved him, in a sense; and he was a man who loved her back, and for Mordred that was more than enough.

If nothing else, Emiya Shirou is an attentive lover, always giving forward to his partner as much as he could before taking his own. Her shameful fluids are expertly absorbed into her bathrobe as his hands play her wet cooch like a master minstrel with his lyre, drawing such enamored sighs and squeaks that brought such shame and self-recrimination to the proud Mordred. Even knowing that, she spread her legs further, inviting even more of his fingers in as they danced on every single one of her spots, her nerves frazzling from the combination of pinpoint sensations.

Thus, her mind goes blank; seeing only a white canvas from which she experiences the most divine bliss. She opens her eyes and sees her love, desire glazing within his eyes, scorching her and chilling her to the bone at the same time, for she knows the depth of his desires. and she would shiver at being found entirely wanting, at burning away by the intensity of his passions. Thus she endeavors to thank him with a quick, hot kiss, letting him know she is his woman for now, and for him to do as he willed with her body.

Her sopping cunt readied, he lifts her up, then strains his ears, listening to the tell-tale sounds of Saber working within the garage. Then he takes Mordred's unresisting form back into the shadowy blind spot near the stairs, hidden from Saber's eyes should she ever emerge unexpectedly.

Mordred's hot and panting like a junkie as she takes up position against the wall, planting her hands on it, turning around and wiggling her ass at her lover. There is no hint of the fierce warrior endlessly chasing her father's shadow: it is the look of a woman thoroughly lost to lust, the mistress desperate for even a tiny bit of her lover's attention.

For she knows there are others, others to whom Emiya Shirou also stares, lust for, even fucks on a regular basis. But they are then and here is the now: she is a cat in heat, and only his searing manhood can cool her down. At the least she is assured that she is not the only "hero" to have fallen to a mortal's guiles-she is just one of many proud spirits reduced to joyful whores under Shirou's dominating touch.

Shirou moves forward, slowly burying his cock into Mordred's moist heat. The knight strains, saliva dripping from her wanton mouth as he goes through more and more of her. Then, he is nestled within her, sheathed like a sword, and it is the most perfect feeling in the world.

Then he rocks forward and back: Mordred hisses, her wet pussy choking on his wild girth as it begins to move in and out, the fucking truly beginning.

"You smell really nice today, Mordred," he whispers, sniffing her hair with every solid thrust of his erection that sends her mind blank and makes her eyes roll up into her head.

"Th-thank you, Shirou," she replies, her mind a great fire that banishes all thought. He is, after all, feeding her greedy cunt with his erection, and his current technique does not fail to impress, to draw yelps and moans from her with disappointing ease. He twists, he tilts, his every thrust deliberately striking every damned weak point in her nethers. In time, she is reduced to an existence like a lowing cow, brought to her knees by the mortal's ministrations, and she cannot resist complete submission to him.

She is lost for so long in her bliss, so immersed in the desire that she barely misses hearing the garage door creaking open. Thankfully she does, though in her current state she can do no more but back off frantically from the wall. Here she was, naked, cunt dripping, father's husband's cock inside her, and her frozen expression practically that of a slut's. The frantic attempt to dislodge his cock from her only succeeds in impaling him further inside, causing her folds to squirm and squeeze around him, further drawing a pleased grunt from her lover.

"Shit, shit, shit!" she mutters under her breath, her face rapidly turning red from the stimulation. Suddenly, Shirou clamps a hand over her mouth.

"She's looking for something..." Shirou whispers, his hot breath practically tickling her nape.

"Mrgrgr..." she says, and she hopes the man can understand the sentiment behind her garbled words. Her eyes widen a moment later when Shirou restarts his thrusting. She nibbles his fingers, though he nimbly dodges them, and uses the opening to hook a finger into the inside of her cheek. "Mpphhh!" Before she can really lay into the fool, she spies a hint of blonde hair through the living room entrance.

Mordred's breath hitches, her heart racing as even Shirou halts his impudent thrusting. Her fluttering heartbeat falls in tune with the pulsing beat of his penis, almost making her feel warm inside, as if her and Shirou's bodies were beating as one being. Father seems to be bustling about inside her living room. Mordred tries and fail to hold the whine trying to escape her throat. Just one glance... one glance and father would be able to see their two forms huddling in the corner over here. Certainly, the strong odor of their mutual lusts would be enough to make even the oblivious curious. One glance, and she'd be curious enough to come over, and then...

She relaxes as father disappears, her footsteps heading back clearly towards the garage. Mordred can barely breathe in relief, however, as the beast what clutches her in its grasp has begun to nosh into her cooch again, and this time she cannot hold back the moan that escapes her throat. Their mating from then on is rushed and frantic, each thrust leading rapidly to the next, his hand keeping her mouth open, massaging her tongue, as he rains kisses all over her shining, sweaty back, drawing unwilling shudders from her. Spit dribbles down in ribbons to the floor, joining her stained juices in making a veritable stinky mess all over the wooden slats. The squish-squish of their union has become fairly loud, and once more Mordred fears the return of her curious father, who would walk in on her depravity, to her ultimate shame. And yet the thought does not freeze her libido-contrarily it heightens her lust, her passions, as she sinks further and further into this mating dance, begging her cock to finish even as it paradoxically desires to prolong their mating; delighting in the full course of debauchery along with the associated feelings it inspires in her.

She barely feels him cum; for she's cum moments before, her mind going into a pure white trance. The impudent mortal's gone and seeded her quietly as she slumps with slackened limbs against him. Then she feels his tongue tracing hers, marking its dominance all over the inside of her open mouth as her throat gurgles quietly in her bliss. It is at this moment that she feels the furthest from being the Knight of Treachery, or whatever names and titles they would call her; here she is his woman, irrevocable, indisputable.

She feels herself carried, bridal-style, over to a soft place. Then she feels his quick ministrations, wiping her down quickly to remove all trace of their congress. Then he kisses her one last time, and leaves her to wallow in the afterglow of her passion.

Moments later, Shirou emerges from the garage with Saber, who's in the same dirty condition as Mordred had been.

"Mordred!" she exclaims again, eyeing her disheveled state. "Put on some clothes! You've got guests!" She's practically naked but for the bathrobe the mortal'd put around her, and he blushes and turns his head away appropriately, even if moments before he'd just been having his way with it.

"I'll... just prepare the bath," Shirou says. He hesitates, then whispers something to father, which makes her blush.

"I'd like to... but no... that would be bad... but maybe later..." Father's sounding much more like a maiden, like her, than her stern and upright self. A slut even, like her, judging by the hungry way she's eyeing Shirou's back, and Mordred can tell the man's pecker's going to be railing the former King of Britain sometime later.

As for herself, her hips are quite sore, her cunt's still slowly oozing his excess essence, and the phantom sensation of his thick cock's still coursing through her. It's gonna take a while to get over the intense, stimulating sex. Mordred can't help but think, as she hides her blushing face from father with her arms, that she'd like to try the risky sex thing again.

An anonymous commission, thank you. Extra words on me, as usual.

I'd like to post a shout out to the anonymous reader who encouraged me to try out that Fate mobile game. Thank you sir/ma'am for almost dragging me to a bottomless pit. Thankfully my iron will stopped me from spending money or time on it, and I can focus more on other things. Again, thank you, and may demons flog your back, parch your throat, and set fire to your ass.

If you'd like a story commissioned, please contact me here, or on my tumblr, theruffpusherdottumblrdotcom.