Chapter 3: Confessions by Firelight
The forest had teeth.
That was the first thing Nokturna had thought when they'd stumbled into it a day ago, and it was the only thing she could think now, shivering beneath the overhang of a limestone cave that did nothing to keep out the damp. The rain had stopped hours ago, but the world was still wet—every leaf, every stone, every breath of wind carrying moisture that clung to skin and hair and bone.
Nickie sat across from her, knees drawn to her chest, staring at nothing. She hadn't spoken in hours. Not since they'd stopped walking. Not since they'd realized they weren't going anywhere.
The cave smelled of moss and old water. Somewhere deeper in, a drip echoed like a slow heartbeat. They'd built a small fire—barely enough to warm their hands—but it had died hours ago, and neither of them had bothered to rebuild it.
"We should sleep," Nokturna said.
"I can't."
"Try."
"I did. I keep—" Nickie stopped, her jaw tightening. "Every time I close my eyes, I see him."
Nokturna didn't answer. She didn't need to. She'd been doing the same thing—lying awake in the dark, her hand between her legs, trying to chase away the memory of Faust's mouth, Faust's hands, Faust's cock. It hadn't worked. Nothing worked.
She'd touched herself three times since they'd left. Once against a tree, when Nickie had gone ahead to scout. Once in the dark while Nickie pretended to sleep. And once—the worst one—while Nickie watched, her eyes gleaming in the firelight, her breath hitching with every stroke of Nokturna's fingers.
That had been the moment she'd known. They weren't going to make it.
"We should go back," Nickie said.
The words hung in the air like smoke.
"No," Nokturna said automatically.
"Why not?"
"Because it's stupid. Because we don't know him. Because we don't do this—we don't get attached, we don't go back, we don't—"
"We don't what? Feel things?" Nickie laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Too late for that."
Nokturna closed her eyes. The stone in her pocket was warm against her thigh—warmer than it should have been, warmer than any rock had a right to be. She'd been trying not to think about it. Trying not to notice the way it pulsed sometimes, like a second heartbeat.
"He gave you a way to find him," Nickie said. "You think he didn't know you'd use it?"
"I'm not using it."
"You're thinking about it."
"Thinking isn't doing."
"Since when?"
They sat in silence. The drip echoed. Somewhere outside, something rustled through the underbrush—a fox, maybe, or a deer. Or something else. Something that didn't care about the two women hiding in a cave, trying not to want what they wanted.
"I've never," Nickie started, then stopped.
"Never what?"
"Never felt like this. About anyone. Not like this." She looked up, and her eyes were wet. "It's not just the sex. It's not just how he fucks. It's—I don't know. The way he looks at me. Like he sees everything. Like he's not afraid of any of it."
Nokturna knew what she meant. She'd felt it too—that horrible, wonderful sensation of being seen. Of being known. It was terrifying. It was the best thing she'd ever felt.
"We go back in the morning," she said.
Nickie nodded.
They didn't sleep.
Instead, they touched each other—slowly, quietly, like they were trying to memorize the shape of each other's bodies. Nickie's fingers found Nokturna's cunt in the dark, sliding through the wetness that never seemed to fade anymore. Nokturna gasped, her hips bucking, and Nickie kissed her—soft at first, then harder, teeth catching on lips, tongues tangling.
"Tell me what you want," Nickie whispered.
"You."
"I'm here."
"Not just you. I want—" Nokturna stopped, her breath catching as Nickie's thumb found her clit. "I want him. I want you. I want—"
She couldn't say it. Couldn't put words to the thing that had been burning in her since she'd watched Faust take Nickie from behind, since she'd seen the way Nickie's face twisted with pleasure, since she'd heard the sounds she made when he filled her arse.
Nickie understood anyway.
"You want him to fuck you like that," she said. "You want him inside you while you come."
"Yes."
"Then we go back."
They left at first light.
The walk was shorter than it should have been. The forest seemed to bend, the paths folding in on themselves, leading them back to the cottage like it had been waiting for them. Rain started again—soft at first, then harder, until they were both soaked to the skin, their clothes clinging, their hair plastered to their faces.
The cottage appeared through the mist.
The windows were dark. The door was closed. For a moment, Nokturna thought they'd been wrong—that Faust had left, that the cottage was empty, that they'd come back for nothing.
Then the door opened.
Faust stood in the doorway, his blue hair loose around his shoulders, his robe open at the chest. He didn't smile. He didn't gloat. He just looked at them—wet, shivering, miserable—and stepped aside.
"Come in," he said.
They did.
The hearth was burning. The cottage smelled of herbs and wine and something warm. Faust handed them towels, then cups of spiced wine, and didn't say a word as they dried themselves and drank. He just watched.Patient. Knowing.
When the silence had stretched long enough to become something else, he spoke.
"You didn't make it far."
"No," Nickie said.
"It's a long forest. Easy to get lost."
"We didn't get lost."
"I know."
Nokturna set down her cup. Her hands were shaking—not from cold, but from something else. Something she'd been carrying for a day and a night and couldn't carry anymore.
"I need to tell you something," she said.
Faust turned to her. His pale eyes were unreadable.
"I've been thinking about it since we left.
"I've been thinking about it since we left."
Nickie's voice cracked on the last word in the cave's damp dark. Now, in Faust's warm cottage, her confession had been the same—only louder. Only realer.
Nokturna lifted her chin.
"I've been thinking about what I saw. What you did to her." She gestured vaguely toward Nickie, who had gone very still beside her. "I've never—I've never let anyone do that to me. Not there."
Faust set down his cup with a soft click against oak. He didn't look surprised. He didn't look smug, either.
"Go on," he said.
"When I watched you fuck her arse—" Nokturna stopped. Her voice had dropped to something almost inaudible. "I wanted it. I wanted it so bad I couldn't breathe."
"You could have asked."
"We left."
"You came back."
"I know."
Silence pooled between them. Rain tapped against the stained-glass windows. The fire spat and cracked, sending shadows dancing across Faust's sharp jaw, his long throat, the exposed planes of his chest.
"I don't want it without her," Nokturna said finally. "I want you inside me. I want her touching me. I want—" She laughed, brittle and raw. "I want everything. I want all of it."
Faust stood.
He crossed to her slowly, bare feet on creaking floorboards, and reached out to brush a strand of wet black hair from her cheek. His fingers lingered there—warm, calloused at the tips.
"Show me," he said. "Tell me exactly what you want."
Nokturna's throat worked. She glanced at Nickie, who nodded—wide-eyed, flushed, already wet just from listening.
"I want you to fuck my arse," Nokturna said. The words came out filthy and plain. "I want Nickie under me. I want her mouth on my clit. I want you to make me scream until I can't remember my own name."
Faust smiled. It was soft—almost tender—and completely devastating.
"Then take off your clothes."
Nickie moved first. She yanked her damp shirt over her head, shimmied out of her trousers, and stood there in nothing but firelight and goosebumps. Nokturna followed—slower, more deliberate, peeling off leather and lace until she stood naked and pale in the flickering glow.
Faust shed his robe without ceremony. His cock was already hard, flushed dark at the tip, curving up against the flat plane of his stomach. Nokturna stared. She couldn't help it.
He gestured to the furs piled before the hearth.
"On your hands and knees."
Nokturna crawled onto the rug. The fur was soft beneath her palms, warm from the fire, and she spread her legs wide—an invitation and a surrender.
Nickie slid beneath her without being asked. She lay on her back, her face directly under Nokturna's dripping cunt, and looked up with dark, hungry eyes.
"Hi," she whispered.
Nokturna laughed—shaky, breathless.
"Hi."
Then Faust's hand landed on her hip. His palm was warm, his grip firm, and she heard the soft pop of a cork behind her.
Oil.
Cold against her skin, then warm as he rubbed it between his fingers. He pressed a slick thumb against her arsehole—a slow, deliberate circle—and Nokturna jolted.
"Relax," he murmured.
"Easy for you to say."
But she did. She forced her shoulders down, her breath slow, her muscles loose. Nickie's tongue found her clit at the same moment—flat and wet and perfect—and Nokturna groaned.
"That's it," Faust said.
He pressed one finger inside her. Slow. Relentless. The oil made it slick, easy, and Nokturna's breath hitched as he worked her open—one finger, then two, scissoring gently while Nickie licked and sucked below.
"How does that feel?" he asked.
"Good. Fucking—good."
"More?"
"Yes."
He added a third finger. The stretch burned, but it was a sweet burn, the kind that made her cunt clench and her toes curl. Nickie hummed against her clit, the vibration shooting straight up Nokturna's spine.
"I'm ready," Nokturna gasped. "Please. I'm ready."
Faust withdrew his fingers. She heard him slick himself up—the wet sound of it—and then the blunt head of his cock pressed against her arse.
"Breathe," he said.
She did.
He pushed in.
The pressure was enormous. Overwhelming. Nokturna's mouth fell open, a raw sound tearing from her throat as he sank deeper—inch by inch, slow as hell, until his hips were flush against her arse.
"Fuck," she whispered.
"Too much?"
"No. Don't stop."
Nickie's tongue never faltered. She licked up and down Nokturna's slit, lapped at her clit, pushed her tongue inside her cunt for a heartbeat and then returned to that swollen bundle of nerves. Nokturna's arms shook.
Faust started to move.
Long strokes. Deep strokes. He pulled out almost all the way, then drove back in—steady, rhythmic, nothing like the frantic pace she'd expected. He fucked her like he had all the time in the world.
"Harder," Nokturna begged.
He gave her harder.
The slap of his hips against her arse echoed through the cottage. Sweat dripped down her spine. Nickie moaned against her cunt—loud, greedy—and slipped two fingers inside herself, fucking her own hand in time with Faust's thrusts.
"That's it," Faust said. "Take it. Take all of it."
Nokturna's orgasm hit her like a lightning strike. She screamed into the furs—a long, guttural, filthy sound—and her whole body convulsed, rippling around Faust's cock, clenching and releasing in waves that seemed to go on forever.
Nickie came a moment later. Her hips jerked, her thighs clamped around her own hand, and she cried out against Nokturna's cunt—wet and wild and completely undone.
Faust didn't stop.
He fucked Nokturna through her climax, through Nickie's, until she was limp and gasping, until tears streaked her cheeks and her voice had gone hoarse from screaming. Then he pulled out—slow, careful—and turned her over.
"Open your mouth," he said.
She did.
He came down her throat without warning. Hot and thick and endless. Nokturna swallowed it all, coughing a little, laughing breathlessly as it dripped down her chin.
Nickie crawled up beside her, kissed the come from her lips, and grinned.
"You're a mess," she said.
"I know."
Faust collapsed onto the furs beside them. His blue hair fanned out in a tangled halo. His chest heaved.
For a long while, nobody spoke.
Then Nickie reached for both of them—one hand in Nokturna's, one resting on Faust's chest—and said the thing they'd all been thinking.
"I love you."
Nokturna froze.
"Both of you," Nickie continued. "I don't know how it happened. I don't care. I'm not leaving."
Nokturna stared at the ceiling. The fire crackled. The rain fell. And something in her chest—something she'd been holding shut for years—finally broke open.
"I love you too," she whispered.
Faust turned his head. His pale eyes were soft—softer than she'd ever seen them.
"I've been waiting for you," he said. "Both of you. For longer than you know."
Nokturna didn't ask what he meant.
She didn't need to.
She curled into him instead—Nickie on her other side, the fire at their backs, the storm outside raging on—and closed her eyes.
For the first time in her life, she wasn't running.
She was home.