Thung Kaw

Healing often doesn't happen in a nice, straight line. There are dips and curves alongside the progression.

Healing often means backpedalling. Sliding into old habits and old patterns of thought that do not serve, but somehow still manage to trick the person into thinking it's helping.

Like now, as you watch Muriel struggle with starting the fire in his hut - your hut now, too. This is your second night back. The first was spent unloading all the necessary supplies, showing Inanna some much needed love, and then promptly falling into the furs with him, absolutely exhausted. When you awoke the next day, he appeared tense; quieter than normal. Kissing you good morning, before quickly slipping outside to check on the chickens and collect the day's eggs.

You hadn't thought too much of it. When you were on the road, there was always something that needed doing. A destination in mind, and a goal you were working towards. Now though? With the reality of you here, of the two of you starting your lives together? Clearly, he was mulling something over.

At first, you wanted to give him his time. Muriel needs to think. To piece ideas together in his head at his own pace, but you watched for the signs. How his emotions sometimes tipped from thoughtful into a spiral in the blink of an eye.

And when he still carried that dark storm cloud with him in the afternoon, you started to worry.

The hut was quiet. Inanna playing outside. You could hear her yips of joy through the open window. The sound of metal striking flint over and over again, and Muriel's deep, focused breathing initially drawing your attention. What kept it, however, was the obvious tension running through the muscles along his back.

He's turned away from you, hair falling into his face, and as you pay attention to his hands, you notice the reason the fire isn't catching is because they're trembling.

Padding across the packed dirt floor on bare feet, you wrap your arms around his neck from behind and pull him to you so his back rests against your chest in a hug. You expected the tension. Prepared for the way he felt like a coiled spring under your touch, but don't let go. Just let him sink into the reality of your arms, and the soft words of affection whispered into his ear.

"Talk to me, love," you murmur, kissing that spot at the nape of his neck that usually has him melting.

In true Muriel fashion, he huffs glumly, but his hands do drop the flint and knife he's holding, rising instead to rest atop yours.

"Are you truly happy here?"

Out of all the things you think he's going to say, that hadn't even cracked your top ten.

"Of course I am." Even as you're inwardly running a mental check on the last few days, trying to figure out where he'd ever get an idea like that stuck in his head, you answer without hesitation. "What could have ever made you think I wasn't?"

You feel Muriel lower himself down from a crouch to a sitting position on the floor. Without breaking contact, you slide around to face him, sinking down into his warm lap.

"Hut's too small," he mutters, unwilling to meet your gaze.

He's shirtless. Had been outside chopping wood for the fire, reminding you of that first night Inanna drew you to his hut, how closed-off and hurt he was. It breaks your heart.

Slowly, gently, you lift a hand to his face. Let fingers dance through the tendrils of his hair as you tuck it behind his ear. "Just means I get to be closer to the man I love," you whisper, his eyes darting up in surprise to meet yours.

"It's… it's just so bare in here," he reiterates weakly. There's not much bite to his words, just the flimsy excuses he's spent the morning stewing on that melt like cotton candy when held up to the scrutiny of your love. "You don't have anything of your shop—"

You silence him with a kiss. Leaning up from where you've straddled his lap to press lips to lips. It startles him at first, his hands held wide, unsure even now if he's allowed to touch you when he's feeling like this.

"Hold me, Muriel," you whisper against his lips. His initial surprise fading to love, fading to want, as arms slowly wrap around your waist, hands splaying low and wide along your back.

His kisses are tentative at first, almost unsure if he's allowed to want this - want you - after the morning he's clearly spent in his head, talking himself out of your feelings for him.

"What changed, my heart?" you ask, pulling back to meet his gaze.

You give him time. Understand that opening up like this is still a work in progress for Muriel. Instead, you simply continue touching him. Running your fingers through his hair, letting your nails scratch gently against his scalp, watch as his eyelids flutter closed, head coming down to rest his forehead against yours with a soft shudder. Your gentle giant.

"First time we haven't had anything to do," he admits. "No crisis. No world to save. Just us. Just… this." he says, inclining his head ever so slightly at the hut around you.

"I know. It sounds absolutely amazing, Muriel."

"But what if it's not enough?"

That last part is whispered so quietly, you never would have heard it had his head not been pressed to yours. You close the remaining distance, leaning in to kiss him once again, before pulling back. "Do you know what I see when I look around our hut?"

He flinches, as if bracing for a litany of criticism. Muriel has lived… sparsely for a very long time now. You know it's tangled up in the belief that he didn't deserve nice things, but it's still hard to witness the way he grapples with it.

This was going to end now.

You point to the hearth first.

"I see my herbs drying. I see them strung above the mantle - we'll have to build a bigger one, of course." You smile, winking at him, before continuing on. "But when it's done, I'll line up my jars of dried herbs and pouches of spices. You'll fill all the empty spaces with your animal carvings. I can't wait to see what you make with these careful hands of yours."

To bring home the point, you lift his hands to your lips, pressing kisses along each knuckle.

"When I look at the furs, I see the wall extended. I see a recess where we can place a larger bed. One that's big enough for you, me, and Inanna," you laugh, feeling the way he chuckles against your body. "Would you like that, my heart?"

He nods, almost afraid to speak, as if by doing so, he'll somehow accidentally break the spell your words have cast.

When you pause, he eventually whispers "Tell me more... please."

"There," you point to the small  nook next to the window. "I always thought that would be a great place for a larger table. We'll stand side by side, making bread," you murmur, kissing along his jaw, loving the way he melts into your touch, clinging just a little tighter to you. "There are so many recipes I can't wait to try on you. So many dinners with friends and loved ones... and maybe someday a family of our own gathered around it..."

He huffs a content little sigh. Loves it when you talk about taking care of him, even if he doesn't yet have the words for it. Muriel's love language has always been acts of service, and you cannot wait to return the favour.

"I see tapestries on the walls. Your family history proudly on display. Warm carpets beneath our feet, painted furniture to rest on," you continue dreamily. "If you build it, I'll sew the pillows and blankets for it," you say, picturing vibrant jewelled tones, deep hunter greens that match the depths of his eyes.

"I want that," he admits, gasping as your lips find the pulse point in his neck and suck gently.

"Good. Because I never want you to doubt how happy I am again. Home isn't a place, it's you, Muriel. Always will be."

He moans, low and husky, as you kiss down his neck. Your tongue running along the sensitive skin of his scars, rocking languidly against his eagerly responsive body, pressed tightly against yours.

"Muriel… bed… now." you plead, a fresh urgency to your voice at the thought of how he was up and out the door this morning with no time to cuddle. "Need you. Please."

The old Muriel would have shied away, worry lacing his frame, locked in a battle between his love for you and his guilt over deserving that love.

This Muriel is all in. Present in a way you only dreamed about when you first met. His hands skim up your sides with a delicate touch that contrasts starkly with the fearsome warrior the world cast him as for so long.

His heart, his passion, his love, now burn for you.

By the time you reach the bed, your clothing has been discarded along the way. Inanna is outside with no interest in interrupting, and all you crave is the warmth of his body on top of yours as you pull him down to the furs.

"Muriel," you whimper, arching your back as he takes your nipple in his mouth and swirls his tongue, the callused fingers of his hand playing with your other nipple all the while. "I love you so, so much," you manage to choke out as you slowly sink into pleasure.

You sense the shiver running through him when he presses into you. It's slow, inching forward in increments as he readies you with tiny thrusts, waiting patiently for your body to accommodate his size.

"Not hurting you, am I?" The strain in Muriel's voice is evident, worry lacing his brow as you shake your head no, eyelids fluttering closed in pure bliss. You can already feel him pulsing inside of you, all taunt lines and restrained need, as he waits for your ok to continue.

You force your eyes open, drag them down your bodies to where you're connected, willing yourself to never forget how amazing he feels, how right the two of you look joined together like this, before you roll your hips in invitation. He's quick to join, matching you need thrust for thrust, as you watch the strain of holding back turn into something deeper, something feral.

A rare instance where he lets himself lose control.

The burn of his desire is delicious. One hand on your shoulder, steadying you so you don't slide up the furs, the other planted firmly against your thigh, hiking up your leg as he drives into you again and again. It's pure bliss.

You lose yourself to the pleasure - you always do. The sounds of your whimpered need, mingling with his grunts of exertion and the frenzied slap of skin against skin are enough to drive him wild.

When Muriel lets go - truly lets himself get lost in the moment - he gets noisy. His grunts turning to low, desperate keens as he leans over you, stealing a kiss you're more than happy to give. When a feral mine rasped against your lips, you thrill, heat pooling low in your abdomen. His teeth drag along your sweat-slicked skin, nipping the soft flesh of your neck and shoulder as you come hard with a cry of his name, body spasming underneath him - a live wire of nerves lit up like fireworks behind your eyelids.

Muriel is tumbling close behind, one final thrust has him pulsing deep inside of you, crying out your name as he comes, hips rolling into yours as your walls flutter around him.

The muscles of his arms shake with the exertion of keeping his full weight from collapsing onto you. But you don't care. You crave it. Want it in a way you haven't been able to properly articulate to him as his lips and tongue start soothing the nips and bites that teeth pressed into your skin moments ago.

"S-sorry," he begins, as your fingers tangle in his hair, gently tugging his head to yours, just so you can kiss him again, long and languid. At some point, Muriel's arms finally - blessedly - give out, the weight of his whole body pressing you further into the furs, the length of his cock still buried deep inside of you.

"Don't be. Adore it when you love me with everything you have," you rasp, still coming off of the delicious ache of being ravished by him.

You watch as this wonderful man above you glances away; actually blushing before his eyes fall back to yours with a sheepish grin.

"Thank you," he chuffs.

"For what, my heart?" You say, reaching out to trace your knuckles along the side of his cheek.

Muriel leans into the touch, chasing your open affection like a man starved. He looks like he would instantly claim you again if he were able, but his eyes are fluttering closed now. A wave of calm stillness washing over him as the anxiety and worry he's carried all morning finally completely melt away.

The two of you get comfortable, pulling furs up over your naked bodies before the air unleashes goosebumps across your skin. Muriel rests his head in the crook of your arm, face buried against your cheek as he noses and kisses sleepily along your skin.

"Tell me more about our future," he mumbles, low and content. "I want to dream about it as we nap."

Smiling, you card your fingers through his hair, kiss his sweat slicked brow, as your other hand caresses gentle shapes up and down his arm.

"I plan on loving you so thoroughly, that you'll never know loneliness again. Not a day will go by where you don't smile, don't laugh. You'll never know another day where you don't get a hug, a kiss, an assurance of how much I love you."

His breath hitches, the arms wrapped around your abdomen squeezing a little tighter. Eventually, his breathing steadies, your heart swelling with the knowledge that he trusts you enough to be this vulnerable around you. That you'll see him - all of him - and love him even more for it.