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Muriel is laid out in the centre of the clearing, directly beneath a shaft of sunlight peeking through the canopy above. His eyes are closed, his muscles soft in a way you so rarely get to see. A few feet away, Inanna is sniffing at trees and insects, enjoying the tranquillity of the moment as much as her master.
You walk toward him, steps soft. He always tells you that they’re too soft, that he’d have to look to see you coming even in an empty room. You watch the soft rise and fall of his chest, eye the way his hair shifts from obsidian to onyx as the sunlight dances around him.
“Look at you, all spread out for me.”
You mean it as a soft joke, words of endearment, but even before he has opened his eyes you can see the pink flush of his cheeks, the uncertain slack of his jaw as he sits up and tries to form an answer to give back to you, something equally as doting and wonderful, but words have never been his strong suit.
As you come to a stop in front of him, fingertips pushing the hair from his face, you watch him turn into your touch and realise no part of you means it as a joke any longer, and every part of you means it the same way every atom of a black hole intends to devour the universe – slowly, and absolutely.
“Can we—?” You ask. He nods, one short movement, before you have even finished. The darkening rings of his irises tell you he was craving it as much as you were, even if he would never have denied you.
Sinking into his lap, you shift back to sit on his knees and take your lips to his. He holds you there, his large palm cradling the nape of your neck as you fumble with the waist of his pants, already so eager to get your hands on him.
When he realises the exact path your plans are taking, he gently takes hold of one wrist, shaking his head.
“I’ll take care of myself,” he tells you. His lips find your jaw, peppering slow, soft kisses along its line. “You’re what matters right now. Only you."
But you must disagree. As his lips move down your neck to you collar bone, you sigh and twist your wrist from his grip. When he looks up to you with a questioning frown, you place that hand to his cheek, a mischievous grin twisting your lips.
“I want to take care of you,” you tell him. You catch your bottom lip between your teeth as you grind down onto him through his pants, feeling him swell and twitch beneath you. “Someone so cute shouldn’t ever have to touch themselves."
You think you spy him rolling his eyes, along with the slightest twitch of his lips. You kiss the tip of his nose and resume your fumbling at his waist, flicking the button and pulling at the zipper. All the while, you use his thigh to grind against your aching self, the action causing your breath to hitch just a little every few seconds.
When he’s free, pants pooled around his ankles, your own garment forgotten somewhere on the ground nearby, you position yourself over him, thighs quivering from the anticipation of his length.
It’s always a stretch; he always seems a little too large for you at first, and in more ways than one. The one time his words are good to him is when you’re taking his cock and he’s murmuring words of endearment to you, telling you how good you feel stretching around him, how much he loves that you never shy away, how well you’re doing.
After a few moments with him resting inside of you, you take his bottom lip between your teeth and begin to move, rocking your hips forward, the hard length of him pressing all of the best parts of you.
“Muriel— ” It comes out as a whimper as you throw your head back, allowing him to bury his face in your neck. His hands flatten against your lower back, guiding and steadying you, allowing you to do whatever makes you feel good, to take whatever you need from him as you writhe on his hard length.
“Your cock feels so good stretching me—” You tell him. You have to gently pull his face from your neck to watch the already-present flush creep a little further, reaching the tips of his ears as you voice your praise. “I love riding you, love it when you hold me—"
You cut yourself off with a sharp inhale as his hips twitch, sending his cock to the hilt inside of you. The clearing around you explodes like starlight on a moonless night, and you quiver in his hands at the feeling of him filling you so completely.
“I’ll always give you anything you need,” he tells you, lips against your jaw as he begins to thrust up into you. You bounce in his lap, breasts jerking with the movement. He tilts you back just enough to lean down and take one pert nipple into his mouth, circling it with his tongue before latching on and sucking.
You scream as your orgasm crashes over you, the sound echoing through the clearing, startling birds and critters and all kinds of life from their hides, but you barely notice. Shaking in his hands, still bouncing on his cock as he thrusts into you, you grasp out for whatever you can hold to steady yourself, finding his shoulders at least and digging your nails in to try to ground yourself.
Just as you think you’re starting to settle, he releases your breast and buries his face into your neck. The crisp air of the morning envelopes your wet nipple, and you clutch a little tighter to him as the sensation threatens to send you over the edge again.
“I want—” He gasps into your neck. His thrusts have become more uneven, the movements jerking and desperate as he approaches his own release. “I’m coming. I want to come inside of you, please—”
You nod, and the moment you do, his shouts echo through the clearing much like your own, the sound reverberating in your chest as his seed fills you, warming your belly, bringing a flush to your cheeks.
After, when you both have your breath back and he’s still seated inside of you, he shifts himself to lay the two of you down in the warm beams of sunlight. Arms wrapped around your waist, he kisses the top of your head and sighs, murmuring to you until you close your eyes to doze in the morning light.