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For the first time in over a week, the forest feels quiet. Muriel is still recovering from having guests, but he seems to be feeling much better with only you and Asra around. Nadia returned to the mansion with Portia dutifully at her side to deal with the aftermath of Lucio’s short and miserable reign; Julian went with them to aid in ensuring the city will continue to be rid of the plague for good. Asra stayed to help you reestablish old charms and protection spells all around the forest after it saw more traffic than it’s seen in hundreds of years, but eventually he has to return to the shop to make sure nothing has been too badly damaged. Muriel must have been stressed out with even just Asra sticking around, because he practically collapses against the wall of his hut and into the grass once Asra has disappeared. You slide down the wall to take a seat next to him.
He closes his eyes as your hands find each other. You want to ask if he’s okay, because you honestly aren’t sure if he is, but know by now that he must need space more than anything.
After a few minutes of quiet and breathing in the clean wilderness air he speaks. “Are you okay?” he asks, turning to look at you.
“Honestly?” You sigh deeply. “I don’t know. Are you?”
A small nod, and he closes his eyes again. “It feels like we still have work to do. Like we shouldn’t be resting, because it can’t really be over.”
You lean against him with your head on his shoulder. “How about that week-long nap? We can’t worry about anything if we’re asleep.”
His shoulder shakes slightly as he laughs. “That sounds like the only good solution.” He squeezes your hand and stands before pulling you to your feet and leading you into the hut.
It’s cool as usual; you were able to change into more comfortable clothes provided by Nadia before she and the rest of the mansion staff departed, although she insisted on us keeping the Masquerade outfits. “There will be other parties,” she’d told you in private with a wink. He arranges chopped wood in the fireplace as you stack bundles of fur, including the fur coats you’d taken with you on your journey south, on the bed. You collapse into them face first while Muriel fixes the fire.
Once you hear the wood crackling slightly and feel a warm glow from the fireplace, Muriel carefully climbs around you onto the furs so that you’re closer to the fire. “It takes a bit to get warm,” he murmurs apologetically.
You pull your face away from a thick bear pelt and throw an arm over his chest, pulling your body closer to his and bringing furs with you. “I don’t even think I’ll notice,” you whisper before kissing his cheek. You can’t see his blush, but know him well enough to know it’s there. He wraps his arms around you and holds you tightly so your head lays on his chest.
The two of you stay like this, curled up into him to take advantage of his warmth and him rubbing your back lightly, reassuringly, as the fire grows larger and begins to fill the room with heat. You turn your back to him so he’s cuddling you from behind, and traces his hands up and down your bare forearms as you watch the flames dance in the fireplace.
His fingers draw lines along your arms up to your shoulders and down your sides before he wraps his arms around your waist and hugs you tightly. You lay like this, watching the fireplace and feeling his chest rise and fall against your back, and feel eternally grateful for finally being able to rest after weeks of stress and life-or-death responsibilities. His breathing tickles the hair on the back of your neck and you get chills; as you shake them off and move your legs you feel him, slightly hard, against your leg.
Muriel immediately tenses, and you instinctively try to pretend you didn’t notice it. It washes over you, though, every time you’ve wondered if he felt the same way as you. Over the last few weeks you’ve been stealing glances at him; revelling in even the slightest touch, your heart skipping a beat when he reaches out to you for comfort on his own. Moments of privacy, except when you’ve been concerned with the end of the world, are still filled with thoughts of him, and still you’re hesitant to make any sudden movements. He treats you like a fragile bird, so scared of breaking you, and it occurs to you that you’ve been treating him the same way for entirely different reasons.
You twist your torso around to face him without looking at him directly. Your own face feels hot as you bring your hand up to his face and kiss him. He’s as nervous as you’ve ever seen him and this time it didn’t even require talking, but he’s also clearly trying hard to calm himself down. You pull away from the slow, meaningful kiss and are immediately grateful that the relative darkness in the hut means you can both still more or less avoid eye contact.
“Is this, uh...are you…” You trail off. You don’t know what you were going to say, anyway. He nods and hesitantly pulls you closer, giving you permission.
Once you’ve turned around to face him, you hold his face again and murmur into a kiss, “Tell me if you want me to stop,” but he kisses you more forcefully before you can finish. Your hands travel from his face to his chest and you tug on the collar of his cotton shirt as you continue down to his hips. You open your mouth slightly and slip your tongue into his mouth; his breath catches and he freezes, unsure what to do, but you continue, teaching him along the way.
After a few moments of breathless kissing and scared, wandering hands, you ask him if you can go further. You pull yourself on top of him and straddle him just above his hips, trying desperately not to go too far when he’s not ready. He gasps and sits up to support himself on one elbow while clenching your shirt at your side with his other hand. With everything he does he’s holding onto you for dear life.
You urge him to move back to lean against the wall next to his bed and he practically picks you up as he does so. He’s cautious as he touches you, so you take his hands and guide them to your hips. “You can touch me,” you whisper as you lean in to kiss him again, deep and desperate, and his hands hesitate, absorbing your kisses and your words, before he slowly pushes your hips back so you grind against his crotch. He’s much harder than before and he lets out a low groan--practically a growl--when you grind even harder against him.
The two of you are trapped together, desperately touching and rubbing and kissing each other, for several minutes. He gradually abandons his caution when he touches you, probably forgetting his fear of hurting you in the desire to get as close to you as physically possible. His hands roam under your shirt and he stops when his fingers brush the raised scars on your chest.
Your stomach flips and your heart skips a beat as you close in on your least favourite part of intimacy. You stop touching him and take a moment to shyly lift your shirt to take it off, catching it on your elbow in your nervousness so it gets stuck. Muriel tugs the shirt over your head and lets it land beside the bed; he takes a moment to take you in, and you’re even more grateful for the darkness, which is growing as the fire dies several feet away, yet you’re far from being cold. He looks up slightly, presumably at you, and pulls you in to kiss him.
“It’s not the same as an injury--it’s okay,” you whisper between breaths, and he just hugs you tighter against him. You begin to trail kisses from his mouth to his chin to his jaw to his neck and his collarbone and sit back away from him. He’s gripping furs in his fists on either side of him once you’ve begun to move back and kiss along his broad chest, his abdomen shivering as you pause near his belly button and ask, “I don’t have to keep going. Do you want me to?”
He seems speechless for a moment, and nods quickly once he processes what you said. You continue kissing down his abdomen but slow down significantly as you stroke his bulge, gently at first. You’ve never talked about it before, but if you had to guess you’d say he’s never been this close with anyone--he’s been at least as eager as you so far, but this is still foreign to him.
You take in his responses as you take each step, stroking him harder, tugging lightly at his pants to encourage him to help remove the belts, finally revealing his cock, easily on the larger side, with a massive bush of black hair. He’s one of the hairier men you’ve met and the sight of him alone makes you wetter. He shifts his legs nervously and you rub his thigh with your hand to reassure him. “You’re okay with this?” you ask. He nods without hesitation, like he was waiting for you to ask.
He twitches a bit when you take his dick in your hand and begin to stroke the length of it, pausing at the tip to appreciate the feeling of precum as you pull the foreskin back slightly. His breath catches when you lean down and lick his head, tentatively at first to gauge his reaction, and then hungrily, knowing you won’t be able to take all of him in your mouth. His body shivers and one hand hovers near your head, instinctively wanting to pull you closer but unsure if he should touch you, and you reach up to rest it gently on the back of your neck. He grunts quietly and tenses up, and you barely suck him off for a few minutes before he begins to whimper and moan, “I...I’m going to…”
He moves his hands to his sides again to brace himself; you slow down and suck harder on the tip of his cock until he lurches a bit and you taste him finish in your mouth. After a second you realize the cum is still--well, coming--and proceeds to hit your face and chest. You’re impressed at how long it seems to last, given how quickly he came, and his body takes a moment to relax from the orgasm. His breathing is ragged and shaky.
“You okay?” you murmur as you wipe your face with the back of your hand; it’s too dark now for you to see him very well, but his head is leaning against the wall and his chest is heaving.
There’s a thoughtful pause as he catches his breath, and then he leans forward and asks outright, “Can I do that to you?”
You burst into laughter. “You can most definitely do that to me,” you murmur breathily as you lean forward to kiss him briefly.
Muriel pulls himself forward on the bed and you sit back where he was a moment ago. You curl up into the warm spot his body left in the furs--he tries to pull at the legs of your pants to take them off but you push him away and whisper for him to take his off, too. He stands and takes a minute to add some wood to the fire and poke it back to life as the temperature begins to drop while you take the rest of your clothes off.
Once the orange glow has started to light the room he stands up and, back still to you, takes his shirt and pants off. You can see a few of the large scars across his back and shoulders--they’d always made you a little sad to look at, but from here it’s just making you hotter. He walks back over to you and climbs back onto the bed, hovering over you, before leaning down to kiss you.
You kiss him back, and your heart beats faster and faster as he pulls away and kisses down your chest the way you did to him; he goes faster, though, skipping over your body in only a few touches, eager to return the favour. You’ve been touching yourself lightly and are soaking wet--you spread your legs and give him a brief overview of how everything works. You’re both blushing furiously, but he listens intently and lightly brushes his fingers across your cunt, making your heart leap.
He finally leans down and runs his tongue up and down your clit, experimenting a bit, holding back. You groan deeply in response, begging him to go harder, to focus more there, to try using a finger too. He gingerly slips one finger inside and you look down at him. The look on his face, the awe and desperation to please you, makes your heart explode.
“Please…” you whisper, not asking for anything in particular, but more turned on than you’ve ever been. Even in the new fire’s light you can’t quite tell what he’s doing--it feels like he’s started sucking you off, but it’s hard to focus on so many things at once--and it’s making you gasp and moan and cry.
Muriel pulls back for a moment and catches his breath. “Is...is this okay?”
You reach down and hold the side of his head, gasping for breath yourself. “Yes,” you whisper, “don’t stop, please, don’t…” He dips his head back down and you pull him closer. With your blessing he slides another finger inside you and you show him how to curl them into you, and when he obliges, your body instinctively arches your back in pleasure.
Waves of pleasure are washing over you, getting deeper and stronger with each passing moment, and he works harder the louder you get. The waves suddenly ramp up and swallow you whole; he looks up in alarm but you push his head back down and he takes the hint. Through your climax you moan his name, and the hand he’s had on your thigh to hold you in place tightens its grip.
It lasts for nearly a minute, an intense cloud of sensation, and when you pull him up to kiss you, his face is wet. As your breathing slows your arms and legs collapse in exhaustion. He leans over and lays down on his side next to you, one arm and leg draped over your body and stroking your face while you recover.
“Was that...are you okay?” he murmurs, already looking reassured and his face frozen in awe.
You reach over and pull his face to yours to kiss him again. “Very okay,” you whisper. You examine his face--his brows furrowed in slight concern, his dark gaze fixed on you--and let out a long sigh. “The most okay I’ve ever been. The best I’ve ever been, even.”
His lips twitch in a slight smile, which grows into a grin. He’s still smiling as he kisses you, again and again, and once you’re strong enough you push him onto his back and drape your own arms and legs over him. He pulls one of the furs over you to cover your lower halves and wraps his trapped arm around you tightly.
With your face against his chest and the exhaustion starting to weigh you down, you whisper, “Are you okay?”
Muriel lets out a genuine chuckle. “The most okay I’ve ever been in my life.”
Your breathing slows, and the light from the fire fades away into comfortable, warm, exhausted sleep.