It was a mistake, okay? That's all. A personal failing that he wasn't proud of, but... he was a man, right? With needs, like everyone else. Plus, he was sane enough to jump into bed with someone who was just as desperate as he was. He wasn't like... he wasn't like those who took advantage of the chaos and panic on the battlefield and picked on innocent civilians.

He clenched his jaw and shook his head a little, rubbing the back of his neck, sweat from the night before settling behind his fingernails after he'd scratched his skin. Stupid excuses. Able to endure broken bones while running towards the target, on the heels of enemies, but unable to simply hide his dick in pants and leave it there. He was unable to keep the promise he made to his wife. So what if things weren't working out so well between them anymore, there was still always a hot dinner waiting for him when he got home, and some tenderness here and there.

"Fuck," he groaned and started to get out of the damn small bed. Soon, however, he collapsed back onto the mattress as the weight of the other body simply pulled him down. You held him around the waist like some sort of teddy bear, mumbling something in dissatisfaction in your sleep. Again, a quiet fuck escaped his lips because fuck, he didn't want to get out of bed. Not after he finally had you in it.

Shit... he was a real bastard.