The Chronomancer and the Twins of Time

That night, I awake to the warmth of my own tears, the ache of dreams I can’t quite remember. I sit up, rubbing my face—and for the first time, I notice Mikael isn’t curled up on the floor. Instead, his shadow looms at the side of my bed, silent, uncertain.

​He pauses in the half-light as if waiting for me to send him away.

For a moment, I simply regard him: this man who is always a few steps behind, always a mask.

Mikael meets my gaze, his face strangely open, a flash of desire breaking through his usual coldness.

Without a word, he slips under the sheets, close enough that I feel the heat radiating from his body, but he reaches out only to gently wipe my tears.

I am struck by the expression in his silver eyes—an unfamiliar tenderness edged with respect, even admiration.

He holds me not like prey, but someone he wants to understand. Laying me gently down, he speaks in a low, gravelly voice:

“Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop. No hard feelings.”

​I hesitate, memory flickering—my beloved Bartek, the bittersweet pull of Elena. I let the weight of longing, grief, and confusing hope settle over me before whispering, “Let me know you.”

​Mikael needs no further invitation. He enters me, the moment raw and urgent, foreplay cast aside for something more necessary. I register how my body responds, surprised even now at my own desire. Wrapped in Mikael’s strength, I find myself drifting—half present with him, half lost in the echoes of past lovers and the tangled loves I still carry.

Just as I realise how much I need to feel—need to be touched, possessed, claimed—Mikael groans, his body shuddering inside me before spilling in a rough release.

​In the hush that follows, I feel like tumbling out of a carnival ride just before the peak—the momentum flings me, nerves jangling, pleasure unfinished, and shock still ringing my body.

I smirk, my tone both amused and hungry.

“For a man like you, Mikael, you left me too alive.”

​Mikael is still inside me, uncharacteristically uncertain.

After a silent moment, he mutters, “I’m… sorry. It’s been centuries since I was with a woman.” His words tumble out awkwardly, face half-shadowed by apology.

Cold rooms. Moscow, once. Orders, always. Don’t show what you want. But her hand on mine—different. Too close. Don’t flinch. Let her lead. No one was ever gentle before.

​Annoyance flickers alongside fascination as I meet his eyes. Of course—the man’s entire life revolves around guarding others, duty practically stitched into every line of his body. Still, that doesn’t erase my own needs.

A teasing edge slips into my voice as I arch an eyebrow.

“And now what? You leave me hanging here?”

​Mikael’s cheeks colour, his composure crack for once.

“What… can I do?”

​I snort—a dry laugh in the darkness.

“Well, isn’t this something. I’ve got a killer in my bed who might as well be an almost-virgin. This is crazy.” I throw off the sheet.

“Okay. Let me take a shower. I’ll come back and tell you what you can do.”

​I swing my legs off the bed, and as I stand, Mikael’s voice rises behind me—quiet, hopeful.

“Can I shower with you?”

I glance back, a crooked smile spreading. “At this rate, with all these surprises, I’m about to start thinking I’m dealing with your twin brother.”

I open the bathroom door, looking over my shoulder with a spark in my eye. “Yes—you can join me.”

​Mikael finally smiles—small, genuine—and follows, awkwardness melting into something warmer as the door closes behind us.

​The bathroom fills with steam as I step under the hot spray, letting the water wash away the sticky sense of abruptness.

I feel Mikael’s hesitance at the threshold.

I look back, a mischievous spark in my eyes. “Come on. You can touch me. Just… slower this time. Listen to me, and listen to my body.”

​He joins me, hands awkward at first, but I catch them, guiding his hands over my small, firm breasts, which make an instant reaction I can feel pressing against my back, then over my hips and down to my slick, sweet spot.

Closer still, my body guides him—murmured encouragements, subtle shifts. Pressure, the right places to linger, the stuttering catch of my breath or the give in my knees when he finally circles just right.

​My voice is low, instructive and reassuring, laughter mingling with a deeper note of want.

“It’s not a kill mission, Mikael, you don’t have to get it right the first time.”

​His confidence grows with every sigh and arch of my body. I tip my head back into the spray, letting him discover my pleasure by feel, by sound, by the way I press myself against him.

“I want to make it right”, murmured Mikael, “Instruct me, I do as told”.

​“On your knees,” I whisper, guiding him down.

He hesitated only a moment before obeying, looking up for reassurance.

Utterly at ease with my own desire, place my hands in his hair and instruct him—gently, clearly—showing him what I want, how to use his tongue, how to read my gasps and movements.

The power of teaching, of being seen and pleased, sent a slow, building heat through me.

​”Now suck me, like a rapidly melting ice cream”, and press his head harder against me.

​Mikael’s uncertainty fades as he follows my wishes, and when my climax built, I let him know.

“I am coming, Mikael, keep going”.

“Keep sucking, please”, while releasing myself in his mouth.

​I lean back against the tile, breathless and grinning, savouring both my pleasure and the new bond of trust kindling between us.

​“That,” I grinn, “is something else to add to your résumé.”

“​Résumé. KGB assassin. Right hand Mr Geopolitics. Now, wings.”

Mikael rises from his knees, water streaming down his face, eyes wide with something close to wonder. He reaches for me, kissing with a new reverence—hungry, grateful, and a little dazed. His hands find my waist, tentative at first, then growing bolder, tracing the curve of my still-sensitised skin.

​He pulled back just enough to look her in the eye, voice rough and uncertain.

“And now?” he asks, the question full of honest curiosity, a man suspended at the edge of old limits, open for once to being guided.

​Still buzzing with the afterglow and a sense of quiet triumph, I just smile—a slow, knowing smile that promises I am far from finished teaching him.

“Come, I can see you are hard again, let me show you the next now”.

​Mikael follows me back to the bed. My voice is sultry and warm as I guide him gently.

He immediately slides inside me, hard, heated and almost frenzied.

“Slow down… feel me, Mikael. Wait for my breath to change, the way my fingers grip you—that’s your cue. Don’t rush. Let the tension build. I’ll tell you when…”

​Mikael, trembling with restraint, whispered back, “I’m trying. It’s just—hard to hold back.”

​I smile, encouraging. “It gets easier. Focus on me—my sounds, my body. Touch my clit. You’ll feel it when I’m close. Trust me.”

​Mikael lowers one hand to my clitoris and opens his eyes in surprise: “So warm, so…”

At that moment, Mikael’s control slipped away. He groaned, gripping me tightly as he spils inside again, his face flushing with frustration and apology.

“Sorry, I… I couldn’t—”

​I laugh softly, pulling him into my arms, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“It’s alright, Mr Hitter. Everyone starts somewhere. I’m not going anywhere.”

​He looks at me, still breathless. “I want to learn… with you.”

​I stroke his hair with amused tenderness. “And you will. Just keep listening.”

​He buries his face at my neck, voice muffled but urgent.

“You know—I barely acknowledged your existence before all this. But when you chose Elena, when you stayed loyal to her instead of following orders for money, Tarmo’s money—it changed everything.

I’ve fought for triumph, justice, my country for his orders…but that kind of loyalty, that’s different. It makes me feel—”

​He shakes his head, words faltering, emotion heavy between us.

​I smile, running a hand through his hair. “We’re both learning new things, it seems.”

​Mikael closes his eyes, letting my warmth comfort him, a quiet awe in his touch that hasn’t been there before. “Not so bad, this being human,” he says.

“Still strange. Easier to take orders than kindness. Hard to trust. But I want to try. For her. For myself.“

Our bodies, tangled and exhausted, linger in the hush—a promise of trust and exploration yet to come.

I.Ph.