Something Grows Amongst the Trees (Closed for Mr_Positive)

[Mr_Positive]

Ethan felt an immediate rush of relief at her acceptance, but it was swiftly followed by a sharp, creeping anxiety. The weight of what he had offered now settled fully on his shoulders. This wasn’t like helping her walk or carrying her when she was too weak to stand. This was different. More intimate.

She trusted him. That much was clear, despite the thinly veiled warning in her words. He didn’t blame her for it. He wasn’t even offended. If anything, it reminded him just how much of a risk she was taking by agreeing to this.

He cleared his throat. “Alright,” he said, shifting slightly where he stood. “I’ll fill the tub. Get yourself, uh… ready to be carried.”

He hoped she understood what he meant without him having to say the words outright. He wasn’t about to ask her to undress in front of him—not that she could do much on her own, anyway—but she might need to prepare in whatever way fae did.

Not waiting to see her reaction, he turned and left the room, stepping out onto the back porch where the tub sat beneath the open sky. The cool night air helped clear his head, but only slightly. As he began the process of heating water and filling the tub, his mind betrayed him, wandering where he really didn’t need it to go. She looked human. At least, mostly. But she wasn’t. So what did that mean, exactly?

His hands worked mechanically as his thoughts spiraled. Did she have the same kind of body underneath the layers she wore? Or were there things about her form he hadn’t seen yet, things hidden by clothing that marked her as something other?

Would her skin shimmer differently in the water? Would she have patterns on her back like the bark of a tree? And if she was exactly like a human, would that make this easier or harder? Ethan exhaled sharply, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. He was helping her. That was all. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Once the tub was full, he stood back, looking at the steaming water. It was as ready as it was going to get. Which meant it was time to go back inside. His jaw tightened slightly as he turned toward the cabin, bracing himself for whatever came next.​

 

[Poprockz]

She shifted anxiously on the bed before pulling the covers back and letting her legs hang down over the bed's edge. Her hands reached down for the hem of her silky gown and she pulled it up and off over her head. There were no undergarments to speak of, so it was all she needed to do to be completely bare.

Normally she felt no shame when she was in the nude, but thinking about being seen by Ethan or even other humans made her a bit shy. While animals didn't care whether or not she was dressed, it came with other implications with humanoids.

Her long brown hair was pulled to the front so that at least her breasts were somewhat obscured, though she knew it wouldn't do her much good in the water or if she shifted a certain way. Still, it made her feel a little bit better about things.

Then all there was to do was wait.

 

[Mr_Positive]

Ethan stepped back into the cabin, the warmth of the room wrapping around him as he shut the door behind him. His eyes instinctively moved toward the bed, and— He stopped. She was naked.

The breath caught in his throat, but he forced himself to keep moving, to act as though nothing was amiss, as though this was just another task. He had known she would have to be bare for this, had prepared himself for it, and yet - seeing her there, unguarded in the dim light of the cabin, was something else entirely.

His muscles tightened as he approached. He kept his gaze high, focusing on her face, on the way her hair spilled over her shoulders, offering her at least some small measure of modesty. But even then, he was aware of everything. The soft curve of her waist, the subtle rise and fall of her chest with each breath, the smoothness of her skin—

He had been with women before, but not in a long time. Not since Mia.

Mia.

His jaw clenched. He forced the thought away, pushing it down beneath the need to focus on the present. On what he was here to do.

Wordlessly, he moved to her, slipping an arm beneath her legs and another around her back, lifting her with careful ease. Her warmth pressed against him, her bare skin brushing against the fabric of his shirt. He ignored the way his body responded to it, the way his pulse seemed to quicken just slightly.

Outside, the night air was a welcome contrast to the heat stirring beneath his skin. He carried her with steady steps, his focus locked on the tub ahead. Once there, he lowered her into the water as gently as he could, the warmth of it lapping around her as he pulled his arms away.

Ethan exhaled through his nose, rolling his shoulders as though to rid himself of tension. He reached for a cloth and a bar of soap, dipping them into the water before turning back to her. It was just a task. A necessary one.

He started at her shoulders, working the cloth over her skin in slow, deliberate strokes. The glow of the lantern flickered over the surface of the water, catching on the droplets that clung to her collarbone, the curve of her arms. His fingers brushed against her as he moved, and he couldn’t ignore the way his body reacted to the simple contact.

She was beautiful. More than beautiful. His grip on the cloth tightened. He cleared his throat lightly, moving with as much control as he could manage. Just a task. That was all. But his body knew otherwise.​

 

[Poprockz]

To be picked up and carried in her vulnerable state was an uncomfortable but necessary thing- she knew she couldn’t do this without his assistance, but she felt so delicate in his arms. He was being respectful, not allowing his hands to stray as they walked outside, and that made her feel a little better about things. Though it didn’t make her heart beat any less quickly.

The bath was hotter than she expected, having thought he might have some tepid water for her to bath in. She wasn’t as knowledgeable about human creations, so she hadn’t thought it was possible to have hot water at his cabin. In the forest, hot water was a luxury only enjoyed at the hot springs pool, so she usually just dipped into the cool river.

Such hot water was quite soothing, though her body was rigid and tense as she allowed him to bathe her. The cloth traveled over her skin, and it almost felt as though he himself was touching her. His movements in washing her shoulders inadvertently moved her hair which exposed her breasts to him. She knew it would happen sooner or later, so she simply pretended that she didn’t care, avoiding his gaze and looking off to the distance.

In actuality, his touch was making her feel rather odd indeed. It was a feeling in her loins she hadn’t experienced before, a desire she didn’t recognize. If she didn’t know that he was without magic, she might have assumed he was weaving some sort of spell.

 

[Mr_Positive]

Ethan was unraveling.

He could feel it in the tension wound tight through his shoulders, in the deliberate pace of his movements, in the quiet storm building behind his ribs. Every pass of the cloth over her skin felt more intimate than it had any right to be. He kept his eyes focused—on the task, on her arms, her collarbone, anything that didn’t betray him. But it was getting harder.

Much harder.

She was beautiful, and not in the way most people threw the word around. There was something ethereal about her, something raw and untouched. Her skin had that slight shimmer to it when the light caught the water just right, and even the way she avoided his gaze felt graceful, almost purposeful. She didn’t speak, and he was grateful for it. He didn’t think he could answer her without his voice giving him away.

When her hair slipped forward and revealed her chest, Ethan’s hand froze mid-motion. He swallowed hard, dragging his eyes back to the cloth as if it were an anchor. He’d expected it might happen—he’d braced himself, tried to prepare for it. But the reality of her, the sight of her bare and vulnerable before him, was something no amount of mental preparation could dull.

He didn’t let his eyes linger. He wouldn’t do that to her. But the image was burned into his mind anyway, and his body responded before he could stop it.

God.

He shifted on the stool beside the tub, trying to make it less obvious, willing his mind to think of anything else. The cold river. The walk through the thorns. That time he’d broken a rib falling from a tree. Not her. Not the soft line of her waist. Not the way the steam curled around her like a veil. Not the scent of honey still lingering faintly on her breath.

“Just… let me know if the water gets too hot,” he said, more to fill the silence than anything else. His voice sounded rough in his ears.

He moved to rinse her arm next, barely brushing the cloth over her skin. His hand trembled slightly. He prayed she didn’t notice. She had to notice. Ethan’s eyes flicked to her face briefly. She wasn’t looking at him. Thank God. He took a breath, shallow and tight. He could do this. He had to do this.

Because this wasn’t about desire. It wasn’t about him. It was about her, about the trust she’d placed in him. About not breaking it. Even if his body was betraying him, even if every cell screamed for more—he would not cross that line. He wouldn’t be that man. But God help him, it was getting harder with every passing second.​

 

[Poprockz]

"I will..." She had responded quietly with a nod. His hand was shaking slightly, perhaps from nerves.

The fae had inconspicuously looked at him and then downward, wondering if there was a reason he had shifted in his seat. She certainly found it. It seemed as though there was something bulging in his drawers, and she soon realized what that might be. The realization of this only made her cheeks darken more, and fortunately she was able to look away before she felt his eyes on her.

Was this man attracted to her? She supposed this made sense. Illuvian knew she was pretty by human standards, so it went to follow that her unadorned body might arouse him. Many would say that he was simply having a natural human male response.

It only made her feel all the more conscious of his movements, and she subtly moved her arm to hide the fact that her nipples had become more pert. "How long have you lived alone?" she asked, trying to make conversation to fill up the silence.

 

[Mr_Positive]

Ethan’s hand paused briefly as her voice broke the silence. It wasn’t loud—soft, almost hesitant—but it pulled him out of his spiraling thoughts like a sudden breeze through smoke. He cleared his throat quietly, grateful for the chance to focus on something else. Anything else.

“About a year,” he said. His voice was steady, at least outwardly.

He dipped the cloth into the warm water again, wringing it out with deliberate care. His fingers were still trembling slightly, though he tried to keep them still as he returned to his work. The question lingered in the air, and he was thankful for it—thankful she’d offered something to steer them away from the current.

Because she’d noticed. Of course she had. How could she not? He cursed his body silently, frustrated and humiliated in equal measure. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything—not like this—not after Mia. Not after everything that had followed.

But Illy was different. She wasn’t coaxing it from him with flirtation or suggestion. She was just there—vulnerable, trusting, raw—and that was what made it worse. She wasn’t seducing him. She was letting him help. And he was betraying that with every subtle shift of his hips, every effort to hide the way his body responded to her nearness.

“Didn’t really plan to stay this long,” he said quietly, voice flat, almost apologetic. “Guess it stuck.”

He focused hard on her shoulder, where the water glistened and the cloth left faint trails across her skin. Every movement was a test of control. A careful balance between decency and desire. Between protecting her and protecting himself from what that desire could mean.

He kept his gaze away from her chest now. Didn’t need to look to remember. She was a fae, yes. Not human. But her body, her presence, the heat in the water and the quiet between them—it stirred things he hadn’t let himself feel in years. Things he thought had died when Mia did. When he buried that part of himself for good.

But here it was again, clawing its way to the surface, fragile and unwelcome. He didn’t answer more than he had to. Didn’t trust himself to say much else. Just keep steady. Just get through this. She trusted him. That mattered more than anything.​

 

[Poprockz]

Oh, that was right. She vaguely recalled him mentioning that it was roughly a year ago since his lover had passed, yet she hadn't remembered. Perhaps it was because she was flustered that such an important thing had slipped her mind. Hopefully it hadn't touched on his wound at all- it would be regrettable if he was made to feel bad due to her own carelessness.

He wasn't saying much though, and for once she wasn't content to let the silence linger in the air; normally silence was a more peaceful thing, but currently it felt like a tense and heavy fog that she had the urge to dispel. This was especially true due to the fact that the silence only made her focus more on the cloth moving against her skin.

Illy shifted in the tub and pulled all of her hair over one shoulder to the front, turning around so he could reach her back. She glanced at him briefly before speaking, "So... do you have any wine or mead? Though I'm unfamiliar with a lot of the food items humans have created, that is something humans and the fae share. Once I smelled the opening of what was called "beer" that someone left unattended at one's camp, and that was interesting. I think it was made of some kind of grain. If you happen to come across some of that and are willing to share, I would enjoy finding out what it tastes like."

 

[Mr_Positive]

Ethan swallowed hard, grateful for something—anything—to latch onto besides the curve of her back and the warm scent rising off her skin.

Wine. Mead. Beer. Alcohol. Distraction.

“I’ve got some mead,” he said, voice low, careful. “Trader comes through once a month. I barter for things that don’t taste like canned regret.”

He reached for more water with the cloth, focusing on the task with rigid precision. Her back was smooth beneath his hand, muscles relaxed now beneath the steam. He forced himself not to stare too long, not to trace the line of her spine with his eyes. She was just talking. Just making conversation. Trying to ease the tension between them.

But his tension wasn’t in his shoulders. It was deeper than that—tangled up in grief and guilt and the kind of ache that hadn’t stirred in years. He wanted to answer her curiosity. Wanted to tell her how the mead he had was clover-heavy and golden, strong enough to catch in your chest if you weren’t ready. That he kept it for cold nights and colder memories. That he would’ve offered it days ago if he’d thought she’d want it.

“I’ll pour you some,” he said after a pause, wringing out the cloth again. “When we’re done here.”

He focused on her shoulder blades now. They moved slightly as she breathed, and he kept his eyes there. It felt safer than glancing any lower.

But safe was the last thing he felt. He was trying to be careful. Gentle. Respectful. But it didn’t change the storm inside him—the heat, the ache, the guilt for feeling any of it. She trusted him. Had turned her back to him without hesitation. And his body responded like he was some nineteen-year-old idiot.

He clenched his jaw. Focus. Just finish.​

 

[Poprockz]

“Thank you- I look forward to it,” she replied, wondering how the human’s mead would compare to the fae’s. Perhaps one of these days she would let him taste one of their own brews if she could get her hands on one.

Though he wasn’t looking at any sensitive areas, she could still feel his eyes boring into her. He seemed to be struggling with this bathing, and she wondered what he would want to do if there were no repercussions. What was it like to engage in the sort of acts she assumed he wanted to partake in? Was it an indication that he had feelings for her, or more that he liked her undressed form? Based on the fact that his nethers had been roused only now, she assumed it was the latter.

“I think we’re almost done here, but would it be too much of an imposition to ask you to rinse my hair?” While Illuvian wasn’t one to usually wash her hair in a traditional sense (using only water from the River to rinse it), she did like doing so just to keep it from getting too dirty-laden. As a forest nymph she was no stranger to dirt and such, but she still liked to make sure that her hair wasn’t so dirty or tangled that twigs could get stuck in it.

 

[Mr_Positive]

Ethan gave a small nod, his throat tight. “Yeah. I can do that.”

He reached for the pitcher, grateful for something to do. Something simple. Focused. But even as he lifted it, his hand trembled again, betraying the tension that had sunk into every part of him. He shouldn’t be here. Or rather—he should be here. She needed help. She trusted him. But he shouldn’t feel like this. Not now. Not with her so bare, so open, asking something as quiet and intimate as a rinse.

He let out a slow breath, keeping it steady. Steady hands. Steady voice.

“Lean back a little. I’ll be gentle.”

The words felt rough in his mouth, like gravel. He wasn’t sure if it was the strain of holding back, or the weight of what was unraveling in his chest.

The water poured slowly over her hair, and he used his fingers to work it through, careful not to pull or tug. Her hair was finer than he expected—soft, like moss after a rain. It clung to his fingers, slipped through them like silk. He tried to keep his gaze fixed on the task, but part of him kept drifting—to the nape of her neck, to the slope of her back, to the soft curve where her shoulder met collarbone.

His heart pounded like a war drum. It had been so long since he touched someone like this. Even longer since that touch wasn’t tied to grief. This—this was different. This was life. This was warmth. And that scared the hell out of him.

He poured one last rinse over her hair and stepped back, setting the pitcher down with more care than necessary. “That should do it,” he murmured, the words tight with restraint.

He didn’t dare look at her face. Didn’t want to see if she’d noticed the way his voice cracked slightly at the end. He needed air. Distance. Control. But for now, he had to get her out of the bath. Back inside. Dried. Covered. Then maybe—maybe—he could breathe again.​

 

[Poprockz]

The feeling of him pouring the water over her hair and gently touching her locks was a strange one. It both a feeling of comfort and one of… she didn’t have a word for it yet. It made her breathing more shallow and her skin more sensitive. It made the water running down her back feel like the caress of one’s fingertips. His fingertips. What would they actually feel like if they explored her? No... she couldn't indulge such thoughts.

What happened now? Now that he was done bathing her, was he going to take her back into the cabin to dry? Lifting her out of the tub would surely get him very wet. Normally this wouldn't be an issue, but the inside of the cabin wasn't like the forest floor: he seemed to like to keep it fairly clean, and the water would only make the wood floor slippery.

“Do you perhaps have a robe? I think that would be ideal. Of course you could carry me out of the bath itself, but you would end up soaked all down your front with how wet I am. So... what if you fetched a robe and when you get back, I will stand up, step out of the bath, and then you can help me back into the cabin?" The nymph suggested, turning to face him from the bath.