[Arcana] Safe as Houses
May. 9th, 2020 06:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22Title: Safe As Houses
Universe: The Arcana
Characters: Muriel/Asra Alnazar
Rated: M
Enticements: Oral Sex, Intercrural Sex
Description: Muriel doesn’t trust himself, but luckily, Asra has enough trust for the both of them.
Muriel has loved Asra for as long as he can remember.
It might have been love at first sight, for all that he’d done his best not to get attached. As charming and sweet and devious Asra had been, Muriel knows better than to allow attachment.
But Asra gets under his skin like no one else. He’s a bright, bright glow in a dark city, and Muriel is neither alone nor lonely when Asra is around.
Loving Asra is easy. Wanting Asra comes naturally, and that’s the hard part.
Muriel is a danger. He’s too large. He’s clumsy, and he’s boorish, and his hands are too stained to touch someone as beautiful and loving as Asra Alnazar.
Asra, however, has other things in mind when he stands in front of Muriel and disrobes without hesitation, sliding the colorful silk from his body and letting it slither to the floor at his feet. The lanterns make his skin glow, and Muriel sinks to his knees without realizing what he's doing, because he supposes it's what he ought to do, kneel before such beauty.
"This does make it easier to reach your lips," Asra says as his clever fingers thread through Muriel's hair, and his mouth finds Muriel's, sweet and soft and hungry.
Muriel whimpers, he thinks, and then he blushes profusely. He cups Asra's hips, narrow as they are, his hands engulfing them. He sweeps his thumbs over Asra's hipbones, teasing the knobs of them. Asra hums against his lips.
"Touch me," he urges.
"I'll hurt you," Muriel says, his hands shaking with the urge to touch and caress. Asra is smooth and unblemished and unmarked. He's a creature of beauty, and Muriel can't bear to soil him.
"Never," Asra murmurs as he kisses Muriel again, slowly, like he's something to be savored, his tongue wet and clever.
A low rumble rises in Muriel's chest. Asra's mouth leaves his, and he resists the urge to chase it, because there are miles of golden skin before him, and they are worthy of being tasted as well.
Muriel finds the flat planes of Asra's belly first. He presses his face to the smooth skin, inhales the incense and soap scent of him, the underlying salt-sweat. His thumbs sweep circles around Asra's hipbones. Asra's cock taps the underside of his chin.
Asra shivers. His fingernails scrape Muriel's scalp. He murmurs encouragement, and warmth floods Muriel's body.
"I... I want to..." Muriel's tongue trips on the words. Heat floods his face, and he feels as clumsy as a fawn, and not even half as smart.
Asra, however, seems to read his mind. He rocks his hips forward just a little, and the head of his cock brushes Muriel's lips. "Take me in your mouth, Muriel," he says.
Gods. It's so much easier when he knows what Asra wants.
Muriel parts his lips and sucks the head of Asra's cock into his mouth, the fluid a salty-musk on his tongue. He moans and sucks Asra deeper, his tongue laving the firm flesh, swallowing Asra until his nose is buried in white, wiry curls. The head of Asra's cock nudges the back of his throat.
Asra’s fingers tighten in Muriel's hair. His muscles shift under Muriel's grip. Muriel flexes his fingers, pushing Asra into his mouth, and Asra gasps, such a sweet sound. He starts to rock his hips gently, sliding in and out of Muriel's mouth, over his tongue.
He does the best he can. Spittle leaks from the corner of his mouth. He's going to be a mess. He doesn't care.
He dares a look up at Asra, and his heart skips a beat. Asra's eyes are half-shuttered, his face blushing pink with pleasure, his lower lip swollen from biting at it. He breathes in little sharp pants, and the flush spreads further down and down. He's feeling good, and he murmurs as much, his words sweet in Muriel's ears.
Muriel moans around his mouthful and swallows Asra down, his cock nudging the back of Muriel's throat, throbbing over his tongue. He presses his nose to pale curls smelling entirely of Asra, and Asra pulls at his hair. His scalp prickles.
Asra sucks in a breath. His thighs tremble.
"Muriel," he moans like liquid honey. "I'm going to--"
Muriel works his throat, and Asra jerks, pre-come dribbling down Muriel's throat. He backs off to catch a breath before taking Asra into his throat again. And again. And again. He swallows, and Asra makes a beautiful noise. He tries to tug Muriel away.
Asra is many things, but strong is not one of them. Muriel holds fast. He swallows, looks up the length of Asra's golden body, and watches as he comes undone. As he curves forward, eyes closed, face creased with pleasure.
He spills over Muriel's tongue, down his throat, his cock pulsing several times.
Muriel swallows through every tremor, until Asra catches himself on Muriel's shoulders, his body trembling, his eyes wide and bright and hungry. Only then does Muriel let him withdraw, let his length slip from Muriel's lips, though not without a parting kiss. Asra's cock twitches in faint response.
Asra growls, sinking into Muriel's lap and grabbing his face with both hands. "You wonderful, beautiful man," he says and takes Muriel into a kiss, a fierce one, his tongue plunging into Muriel's mouth.
He can't pull away. He’s weak in Asra's arms, unwilling to leave so much as a bruise, his hands fluttering uselessly in the air before he decides Asra's hips are a safe place. His own cock is hard, trapped in his smallclothes and beneath Asra's weight, but he can't -- won't -- hurt Asra.
Never.
Asra grinds down against him, and Muriel jerks, his moan muffled by Asra's kiss, his hands threatening to squeeze Asra's hips before he catches himself. It's a unique kind of torture, wanting to do so much, but not daring anything lest he cause damage.
“Your turn,” Asra breathes as he presses his forehead to Muriel’s, his eyes wide and bright, sparkling with hunger.
“I’m fine,” Muriel lies, his face hot, and his cock crying for relief.
Asra laughs breathily and grinds down, applying a perfect pressure on his trapped length. Muriel groans before he can swallow it, lights dancing at the back of his vision.
“Oh, you liar.” Asra kisses him again, fierce and hungry before he pulls back, tugging at Muriel’s clothes as he does so. “Off.”
Muriel’s hands move before he thinks twice about it, and when he realizes what he’s doing, he hesitates, fingers trembling. “But--”
“Are you going to keep me waiting?” Asra asks, his voice dipping into a lower register, his tongue sweeping over his lips. “Can’t I see your pleasure as well? Do you not trust me?”
Oh. It’s a terribly low blow. Asra should be ashamed of himself, but there’s not a lick of shame in the gleam of his eyes, just triumph as Muriel jerkily tugs away his clothes, his cock popping free, hard and beading moisture at the tip.
Asra beckons, and Muriel clumsily joins him on the bed, looming over Asra’s slimmer form. Asra smiles and taps his lips with two fingers, and Muriel bends down, kissing Asra gently as slim fingers thread through his hair, holding him in place. His kisses are fierce and possessive, and Muriel rumbles with delight, feeling owned by them. Claimed.
His cock throbs, and Muriel desperately tries to ignore the urgent need of it, but he must make some helpless sound because Asra bites his bottom lip before pulling back, smiling with a curve that suggests devilry.
“You’ll let me pleasure you, won’t you?” he asks, his voice deep and resonant and impossible to resist.
Muriel shivers and locks his arms to keep from sinking down, burying Asra in his weight. “It’s not-- you shouldn’t--”
“Don’t tell me what I shouldn’t, Muriel,” Asra purrs and drags his fingers through Muriel’s hair again, as if the sight of his face is a delight, rather than the terror it should be. He shifts, and a knee presses against Muriel’s cock.
He groans, hands curling in the sheets, back bowing. He must have left a mess on Asra’s skin, a smear of sticky precome to stain him.
“I want to feel you against me,” Asra says. His hands slide down, cupping Muriel’s throat then his shoulders then the broad expanse of his chest, and coming to rest on Muriel’s sides. “Won’t you give me what I want, Muriel?”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Muriel says, but his resolve weakens as Asra squirms beneath him, knee still grinding against his cock. Need pulses like a lightning storm through Muriel, like the taste of magic in the air.
“I won’t let you,” Asra promises.
He sits up, pushing Muriel back as he does so, until they are both kneeling and his arms are wound around Muriel’s neck.
“Like this, you think?” he asks, and he rolls his hips forward, grinding against Muriel’s upper thighs, but Muriel’s cock, it’s caught between Asra’s thighs, nestled between his legs, tucked up under his scrotum.
It’s warm and soft and just tight enough to make Muriel groan. He holds Asra’s hips as gently as he can manage, his forehead pressed to Asra’s shoulder.
“Can I?” he asks, his hips deciding for him as they jutter forward in an aborted thrust.
“I insist.” Asra kisses him again, deep and claiming, as he rolls against Muriel, setting up a rhythm for Muriel to thrust back.
Muriel groans, lights dancing behind his eyes, the head of his cock dragging against Asra’s skin, despite all the pre-come to ease his way. It’s the perfect mix of smooth slide and friction, and the space between Asra’s thighs is warm and welcoming. Asra moves against him, like a dance he’s trying to teach Muriel all over again.
Muriel trembles, most of his focus on keeping his grip light, while the rest surrenders to the feel of Asra’s soft thighs, the press of his body, the kisses raining down upon his face and lips and cheeks and collarbone, the murmur of Asra’s voice wrapping around him.
“You’re doing so well,” Asra says, and his encouraging words make Muriel flush all over, make him tremble from head to toe. “So sweet and gentle, my Muriel. So beautiful. You’ll come like this, can’t you? Won’t you come for me?”
It’s so much, wrapped up in Asra like this, feeling Asra against him, soft as silk and smelling of the docks and of incense, of the closest thing Muriel has had to family for as long as he can remember. He loves Asra with every fiber of his being, and he’ll give Asra anything, all he has to do is ask.
“I trust you, Muriel,” Asra says, holding his face, rubbing their noses together, dabbing the gentlest of kisses at the tops of Muriel’s cheeks, over the ridges of his scar. “Now I want to hear you sing. Spill on me. Come on, love. I know you want to.”
Love.
Muriel shudders. His hands spasm on Asra’s hips, and he’s pulling Asra against him. He thrusts, rocks into that hot-soft-pressure between Asra’s thighs, and then the ecstasy comes for him, lights dancing behind his eyes, as he spurts, wet and sticky.
Muriel slumps as Asra presses kisses to the curve of his jaw and back again, petting Muriel’s hair in the way he’s always liked best.
“That’s it,” Asra says in quiet purrs. “You’re so good to me, Muriel. And not a scratch! I told you I’d be fine.”
“But I made a mess,” Muriel mumbles, his face heating as he shifts and his softening cock shifts between Asra’s legs, sliding around the spill he’d left.
Asra chuckles and brushes their noses together. “That just means you can take me to the baths and help me get clean.”
Muriel perks. “I can do that,” he says, and moves to sweep Asra into his arms, to stand and carry Asra to the bath, but his knees wobble, and he sinks back down. “Um. In a minute. My legs…”
Asra tugs at him and Muriel follows, sinking back down into the bed, with Asra curling on top of him, a cat seeking affection. “That happens sometimes,” he says with a happy hum, stroking Muriel’s chest, fingers trailing through the tiny hairs and dragging tiny sparks of arcane energy. “I can wait.”
“... it’ll dry,” Muriel says, staring at the pearlescent spatters on Asra’s thighs. He’d made a really big mess…
“Nothing a good scrub can’t fix. Relax,” Asra says. He rubs his cheek on Muriel’s chest, and Muriel’s heart melts a little more.
“Okay,” he says, and gradually lets his weight sink into the bed, losing the tension from his limbs one by one by one. He rests a hand on Asra’s lower back, above the rise of his rump, but gently.
Asra is soft and smooth and smells faintly of incense, and now, of sweat and their activities. He’s humming quietly as he twists his fingers into nonsense patterns on Muriel’s chest, radiating content.
“You okay?” Muriel asks.
“Couldn’t be better,” Asra says. He stretches up to give another kiss to the curve of Muriel’s job. “You’ll stay here to sleep?”
Muriel thinks about it.
He likes sleeping with Asra, but sometimes, he itches for his home in the forest. It’s a battle then, between having Asra wrapped around him, and having the comfort and privacy of his home.
But he loves Asra. He thinks he always has. There’s nothing Muriel wouldn’t do for him.
“I’ll stay,” Muriel says.
It’s not even the hardest choice he’s made today. Besides, Asra’s smile and kiss, both as soft and silk, are all the proof he needs he made the right choice.
***
Universe: The Arcana
Characters: Muriel/Asra Alnazar
Rated: M
Enticements: Oral Sex, Intercrural Sex
Description: Muriel doesn’t trust himself, but luckily, Asra has enough trust for the both of them.
Muriel has loved Asra for as long as he can remember.
It might have been love at first sight, for all that he’d done his best not to get attached. As charming and sweet and devious Asra had been, Muriel knows better than to allow attachment.
But Asra gets under his skin like no one else. He’s a bright, bright glow in a dark city, and Muriel is neither alone nor lonely when Asra is around.
Loving Asra is easy. Wanting Asra comes naturally, and that’s the hard part.
Muriel is a danger. He’s too large. He’s clumsy, and he’s boorish, and his hands are too stained to touch someone as beautiful and loving as Asra Alnazar.
Asra, however, has other things in mind when he stands in front of Muriel and disrobes without hesitation, sliding the colorful silk from his body and letting it slither to the floor at his feet. The lanterns make his skin glow, and Muriel sinks to his knees without realizing what he's doing, because he supposes it's what he ought to do, kneel before such beauty.
"This does make it easier to reach your lips," Asra says as his clever fingers thread through Muriel's hair, and his mouth finds Muriel's, sweet and soft and hungry.
Muriel whimpers, he thinks, and then he blushes profusely. He cups Asra's hips, narrow as they are, his hands engulfing them. He sweeps his thumbs over Asra's hipbones, teasing the knobs of them. Asra hums against his lips.
"Touch me," he urges.
"I'll hurt you," Muriel says, his hands shaking with the urge to touch and caress. Asra is smooth and unblemished and unmarked. He's a creature of beauty, and Muriel can't bear to soil him.
"Never," Asra murmurs as he kisses Muriel again, slowly, like he's something to be savored, his tongue wet and clever.
A low rumble rises in Muriel's chest. Asra's mouth leaves his, and he resists the urge to chase it, because there are miles of golden skin before him, and they are worthy of being tasted as well.
Muriel finds the flat planes of Asra's belly first. He presses his face to the smooth skin, inhales the incense and soap scent of him, the underlying salt-sweat. His thumbs sweep circles around Asra's hipbones. Asra's cock taps the underside of his chin.
Asra shivers. His fingernails scrape Muriel's scalp. He murmurs encouragement, and warmth floods Muriel's body.
"I... I want to..." Muriel's tongue trips on the words. Heat floods his face, and he feels as clumsy as a fawn, and not even half as smart.
Asra, however, seems to read his mind. He rocks his hips forward just a little, and the head of his cock brushes Muriel's lips. "Take me in your mouth, Muriel," he says.
Gods. It's so much easier when he knows what Asra wants.
Muriel parts his lips and sucks the head of Asra's cock into his mouth, the fluid a salty-musk on his tongue. He moans and sucks Asra deeper, his tongue laving the firm flesh, swallowing Asra until his nose is buried in white, wiry curls. The head of Asra's cock nudges the back of his throat.
Asra’s fingers tighten in Muriel's hair. His muscles shift under Muriel's grip. Muriel flexes his fingers, pushing Asra into his mouth, and Asra gasps, such a sweet sound. He starts to rock his hips gently, sliding in and out of Muriel's mouth, over his tongue.
He does the best he can. Spittle leaks from the corner of his mouth. He's going to be a mess. He doesn't care.
He dares a look up at Asra, and his heart skips a beat. Asra's eyes are half-shuttered, his face blushing pink with pleasure, his lower lip swollen from biting at it. He breathes in little sharp pants, and the flush spreads further down and down. He's feeling good, and he murmurs as much, his words sweet in Muriel's ears.
Muriel moans around his mouthful and swallows Asra down, his cock nudging the back of Muriel's throat, throbbing over his tongue. He presses his nose to pale curls smelling entirely of Asra, and Asra pulls at his hair. His scalp prickles.
Asra sucks in a breath. His thighs tremble.
"Muriel," he moans like liquid honey. "I'm going to--"
Muriel works his throat, and Asra jerks, pre-come dribbling down Muriel's throat. He backs off to catch a breath before taking Asra into his throat again. And again. And again. He swallows, and Asra makes a beautiful noise. He tries to tug Muriel away.
Asra is many things, but strong is not one of them. Muriel holds fast. He swallows, looks up the length of Asra's golden body, and watches as he comes undone. As he curves forward, eyes closed, face creased with pleasure.
He spills over Muriel's tongue, down his throat, his cock pulsing several times.
Muriel swallows through every tremor, until Asra catches himself on Muriel's shoulders, his body trembling, his eyes wide and bright and hungry. Only then does Muriel let him withdraw, let his length slip from Muriel's lips, though not without a parting kiss. Asra's cock twitches in faint response.
Asra growls, sinking into Muriel's lap and grabbing his face with both hands. "You wonderful, beautiful man," he says and takes Muriel into a kiss, a fierce one, his tongue plunging into Muriel's mouth.
He can't pull away. He’s weak in Asra's arms, unwilling to leave so much as a bruise, his hands fluttering uselessly in the air before he decides Asra's hips are a safe place. His own cock is hard, trapped in his smallclothes and beneath Asra's weight, but he can't -- won't -- hurt Asra.
Never.
Asra grinds down against him, and Muriel jerks, his moan muffled by Asra's kiss, his hands threatening to squeeze Asra's hips before he catches himself. It's a unique kind of torture, wanting to do so much, but not daring anything lest he cause damage.
“Your turn,” Asra breathes as he presses his forehead to Muriel’s, his eyes wide and bright, sparkling with hunger.
“I’m fine,” Muriel lies, his face hot, and his cock crying for relief.
Asra laughs breathily and grinds down, applying a perfect pressure on his trapped length. Muriel groans before he can swallow it, lights dancing at the back of his vision.
“Oh, you liar.” Asra kisses him again, fierce and hungry before he pulls back, tugging at Muriel’s clothes as he does so. “Off.”
Muriel’s hands move before he thinks twice about it, and when he realizes what he’s doing, he hesitates, fingers trembling. “But--”
“Are you going to keep me waiting?” Asra asks, his voice dipping into a lower register, his tongue sweeping over his lips. “Can’t I see your pleasure as well? Do you not trust me?”
Oh. It’s a terribly low blow. Asra should be ashamed of himself, but there’s not a lick of shame in the gleam of his eyes, just triumph as Muriel jerkily tugs away his clothes, his cock popping free, hard and beading moisture at the tip.
Asra beckons, and Muriel clumsily joins him on the bed, looming over Asra’s slimmer form. Asra smiles and taps his lips with two fingers, and Muriel bends down, kissing Asra gently as slim fingers thread through his hair, holding him in place. His kisses are fierce and possessive, and Muriel rumbles with delight, feeling owned by them. Claimed.
His cock throbs, and Muriel desperately tries to ignore the urgent need of it, but he must make some helpless sound because Asra bites his bottom lip before pulling back, smiling with a curve that suggests devilry.
“You’ll let me pleasure you, won’t you?” he asks, his voice deep and resonant and impossible to resist.
Muriel shivers and locks his arms to keep from sinking down, burying Asra in his weight. “It’s not-- you shouldn’t--”
“Don’t tell me what I shouldn’t, Muriel,” Asra purrs and drags his fingers through Muriel’s hair again, as if the sight of his face is a delight, rather than the terror it should be. He shifts, and a knee presses against Muriel’s cock.
He groans, hands curling in the sheets, back bowing. He must have left a mess on Asra’s skin, a smear of sticky precome to stain him.
“I want to feel you against me,” Asra says. His hands slide down, cupping Muriel’s throat then his shoulders then the broad expanse of his chest, and coming to rest on Muriel’s sides. “Won’t you give me what I want, Muriel?”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Muriel says, but his resolve weakens as Asra squirms beneath him, knee still grinding against his cock. Need pulses like a lightning storm through Muriel, like the taste of magic in the air.
“I won’t let you,” Asra promises.
He sits up, pushing Muriel back as he does so, until they are both kneeling and his arms are wound around Muriel’s neck.
“Like this, you think?” he asks, and he rolls his hips forward, grinding against Muriel’s upper thighs, but Muriel’s cock, it’s caught between Asra’s thighs, nestled between his legs, tucked up under his scrotum.
It’s warm and soft and just tight enough to make Muriel groan. He holds Asra’s hips as gently as he can manage, his forehead pressed to Asra’s shoulder.
“Can I?” he asks, his hips deciding for him as they jutter forward in an aborted thrust.
“I insist.” Asra kisses him again, deep and claiming, as he rolls against Muriel, setting up a rhythm for Muriel to thrust back.
Muriel groans, lights dancing behind his eyes, the head of his cock dragging against Asra’s skin, despite all the pre-come to ease his way. It’s the perfect mix of smooth slide and friction, and the space between Asra’s thighs is warm and welcoming. Asra moves against him, like a dance he’s trying to teach Muriel all over again.
Muriel trembles, most of his focus on keeping his grip light, while the rest surrenders to the feel of Asra’s soft thighs, the press of his body, the kisses raining down upon his face and lips and cheeks and collarbone, the murmur of Asra’s voice wrapping around him.
“You’re doing so well,” Asra says, and his encouraging words make Muriel flush all over, make him tremble from head to toe. “So sweet and gentle, my Muriel. So beautiful. You’ll come like this, can’t you? Won’t you come for me?”
It’s so much, wrapped up in Asra like this, feeling Asra against him, soft as silk and smelling of the docks and of incense, of the closest thing Muriel has had to family for as long as he can remember. He loves Asra with every fiber of his being, and he’ll give Asra anything, all he has to do is ask.
“I trust you, Muriel,” Asra says, holding his face, rubbing their noses together, dabbing the gentlest of kisses at the tops of Muriel’s cheeks, over the ridges of his scar. “Now I want to hear you sing. Spill on me. Come on, love. I know you want to.”
Love.
Muriel shudders. His hands spasm on Asra’s hips, and he’s pulling Asra against him. He thrusts, rocks into that hot-soft-pressure between Asra’s thighs, and then the ecstasy comes for him, lights dancing behind his eyes, as he spurts, wet and sticky.
Muriel slumps as Asra presses kisses to the curve of his jaw and back again, petting Muriel’s hair in the way he’s always liked best.
“That’s it,” Asra says in quiet purrs. “You’re so good to me, Muriel. And not a scratch! I told you I’d be fine.”
“But I made a mess,” Muriel mumbles, his face heating as he shifts and his softening cock shifts between Asra’s legs, sliding around the spill he’d left.
Asra chuckles and brushes their noses together. “That just means you can take me to the baths and help me get clean.”
Muriel perks. “I can do that,” he says, and moves to sweep Asra into his arms, to stand and carry Asra to the bath, but his knees wobble, and he sinks back down. “Um. In a minute. My legs…”
Asra tugs at him and Muriel follows, sinking back down into the bed, with Asra curling on top of him, a cat seeking affection. “That happens sometimes,” he says with a happy hum, stroking Muriel’s chest, fingers trailing through the tiny hairs and dragging tiny sparks of arcane energy. “I can wait.”
“... it’ll dry,” Muriel says, staring at the pearlescent spatters on Asra’s thighs. He’d made a really big mess…
“Nothing a good scrub can’t fix. Relax,” Asra says. He rubs his cheek on Muriel’s chest, and Muriel’s heart melts a little more.
“Okay,” he says, and gradually lets his weight sink into the bed, losing the tension from his limbs one by one by one. He rests a hand on Asra’s lower back, above the rise of his rump, but gently.
Asra is soft and smooth and smells faintly of incense, and now, of sweat and their activities. He’s humming quietly as he twists his fingers into nonsense patterns on Muriel’s chest, radiating content.
“You okay?” Muriel asks.
“Couldn’t be better,” Asra says. He stretches up to give another kiss to the curve of Muriel’s job. “You’ll stay here to sleep?”
Muriel thinks about it.
He likes sleeping with Asra, but sometimes, he itches for his home in the forest. It’s a battle then, between having Asra wrapped around him, and having the comfort and privacy of his home.
But he loves Asra. He thinks he always has. There’s nothing Muriel wouldn’t do for him.
“I’ll stay,” Muriel says.
It’s not even the hardest choice he’s made today. Besides, Asra’s smile and kiss, both as soft and silk, are all the proof he needs he made the right choice.
