When we arrived at the lodgings, Morvash let me go in first. I stepped into the small room—wooden floorboards creaking under my boots, a single lantern already lit on the table, casting long shadows. The air smelled faintly of pine and old linen. I heard him close the door behind me, the lock clicking softly.
It felt awkward. Too quiet. Too closed-in after a full day of hunting.
I turned to say something—anything—but before the words came out, his arms wrapped around me from behind. Tight. Warm. His chest pressed to my back, chin resting lightly on my shoulder.
"Again?" I asked, voice small and scared.
"Yeah," he murmured against my ear. "I want to do it before we sleep."
"But… I'm tired from hunting," I said weakly.
"It can't be helped."
His voice was soft, almost gentle, but his hold didn't loosen. Then something strange happened—warmth spread through me, starting from where his arms circled my waist and flowing outward like slow honey. My muscles unclenched. My legs stopped feeling so heavy. Even the deep soreness from earlier softened, like invisible hands had smoothed it away.
Magic.
He'd used magic to refresh me.
I thought maybe that meant he'd let me rest. Maybe he'd just hold me and we'd sleep.
But no.
He turned me slowly in his arms so we were facing each other. His blue hair was still messy from the wind outside, ash streaks catching the lantern light. His eyes were half-lidded, lazy, but focused.
He leaned in and licked a slow, wet line up the side of my neck.
I shivered.
He kissed the same spot—soft, open-mouthed—then sucked lightly, lips pulling at the skin until it tingled.
"Hn…"
A small sound escaped before I could stop it. My hands hovered uselessly at my sides.
He didn't speak. Just kept going—licking, kissing, sucking a slow path along my throat, up to the underside of my jaw. His breathing was warm, steady, unhurried.
Then his hands moved.
Fingers found the hem of my tunic and tugged it upward—slow, deliberate. I didn't resist. I knew it wouldn't matter if I did. He'd already decided.
The fabric slid over my head, dropped to the floor. Cool air hit my bare chest; I shivered again.
His palms settled on my ribs—warm, heavy—sliding down to the waistband of my pants. He hooked his fingers inside and pulled them down together with my underclothes. No rush. No force. Just steady, inevitable.
They pooled at my ankles. I stepped out automatically, naked now.
He took one step back—just enough to look at me. Eyes drifting down my body, slow and appreciative, like he had all night to memorize every inch.
Then he reached for his own clothes.
Shirt first—pulled off in one lazy motion, revealing pale skin and lean muscle. Pants next—unlaced, shoved down. Shorts last.
His cock sprang free—already hard, flushed dark, thick and long. It curved upward slightly, the head glistening.
I stared—heart hammering—then looked away fast.
He stepped closer again. Pressed our bodies together—skin to skin. His erection rubbed hot against my stomach; I flinched at the contact.
He tilted my chin up with two fingers.
Then he kissed me.
Slow. Deep. Tongue sliding in lazy, tasting me like he was in no hurry at all.
"Mmm… nn…"
Small sounds leaked out between our mouths—helpless, muffled. I tried to keep them quiet, but every time his tongue curled against mine, another slipped free.
He didn't rush the kiss. Just explored—slow licks, gentle suction on my bottom lip, teeth grazing once. His hands roamed my back—down to my waist, then lower—cupping my ass, squeezing softly.
Then one hand slipped between my cheeks.
Fingers rubbed slow circles around my entrance—light, teasing pressure.
I tensed.
He broke the kiss just long enough to bring two fingers to my lips.
"Open," he whispered.
I did—shaky breath—letting him slide them inside. I tasted salt, faint musk. He let me wet them for a moment, then pulled them out—slick now—and returned to my ass.
He rubbed again—slow, wet circles—then pressed one finger inside.
"Nn—ahh…!"
The stretch stung—sharp, familiar burn. My walls fluttered weakly around the intrusion; I whimpered into his mouth as he kissed me again.
He added the second finger—slow push, scissoring gently. The ache flared brighter; my hips jerked forward, cock rubbing against his stomach.
"Haa… ngh…"
He kept kissing me—deep, lazy—while his fingers moved inside—slow thrusts, curling just enough to brush that sore spot.
My breathing turned ragged—small, broken moans muffled against his lips every time he pressed deeper.
"Hn… mm… ahh…"
The kiss stayed slow, lazy—his tongue moving like he had forever, tasting every shaky sound I made. I couldn't pull away; my head was too heavy, my arms too weak. All I could do was let him take it—let him swallow the whimpers that kept slipping out.
His fingers inside me curled again—slow drag over that sore spot. Sharp sting flared; my hips jerked forward without meaning to, cock rubbing against his stomach.
"Nngh—!"
He hummed into the kiss—low, pleased—vibration traveling straight down. His other hand cupped the back of my head, holding me in place while his fingers kept moving—shallow thrusts, gentle scissoring, stretching me wider with every lazy push.
The ache throbbed deeper—constant, burning—but the magic he'd used earlier kept it from tipping into real tearing. Just endless, overwhelming fullness.
He broke the kiss—slowly—lips brushing mine one last time.
I sobbed—quiet, helpless. "Morvash… please…"
He didn't answer with words.
Just kissed my jaw—slow trail down my neck—then sucked lightly at the pulse point. His fingers stayed inside for a few more slow curls, then he pulled them out—careful, wet drag that made me whimper sharply, walls fluttering on nothing.
"Nn… ahh…"
He caught my wrist gently—fingers lacing through mine, thumb brushing over my knuckles in a lazy stroke. Then he stepped back, tugging me with him toward the bed.
No rush. No force. Just that sleepy pull.
He sat first—back against the headboard, legs stretched out on the mattress. The lantern light caught the blue in his hair, making the ash streaks glow faintly. He tugged my hand once—soft, encouraging.
I hesitated—legs shaky—but he waited, eyes half-lidded, patient in that drowsy way of his.
I climbed onto the bed slowly. He guided me with the hand he still held—helping me straddle his lap until I was sitting on him, knees on either side of his hips.