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«Have you ever been hugged, Vulpes?»
From anyone else, the question would have been asked as a mockery.
From her, it had been a genuine interest.
To anyone else, he would have met mockery with blade.
To her, he would try to remember.
The Courier, as always, had managed to dumbfound him with her endless curiosities. Questions flowing one after the other, each stranger than the last. Vulpes had indulged each, choosing to believe that the answers would bring her closer to the truth, to the Legion and its ways. He had answered all of her queries, explanations and details pouring from his mouth as naturally as breathing. He had had answers for all of her questions but one.
Had Vulpes Inculta ever been hugged?
Gaze focused on the crackling fire standing before him, he felt its warmth creeping up his body as the Mojave slept. A hug, when could have that happened. Would accolades among Legionnarie after a well fought battle count? Probably not. Had he hugged the women he had laid with? It had been his duties, nothing more. Had he hugged a profligate as he mingled among them? No.
And yet, he felt that it had happened, the action not foreign but distant. All about it was a blur apart from the fact that he knew it to be warm. Safe and warm. And unfit for a Legionnarie. But that feeling alone was all that Vulpes could remember of it.
He had no answer to give to the Courier.
She understood him nonetheless.
The silence stretched alongside the night, only filled by the soft crackle of the fire.
A finger grazed his hand, the feeling barely perceivable until her hand pressed gently against his. It rested for a moment until it continued its travel upward. Vulpes felt each of her movement, fingers burning against his skin. Her fingers glided against his wrist to rest in the crook of his elbow only to finish their journey atop his shoulder.
Vulpes had kept his eyes strained on the fire, unwilling to meet her gaze just yet. The fingers anchored against his shoulder twitched as the Courier moved her other arm to reach his other shoulder. Slow and deliberate fingers grazing his chest before settling on their target. Pulling his shoulders to face her, Vulpes tore his eyes from the fire to meet the one that brewed behind hers as they settled face to face, both lit by the dancing flames while another part remained claimed by the night. Neither spoke nor moved as the Courier pulled him closer, flushing their shoulder together.
The moment felt too warm, too intimate. Vulpes should have stopped her, stopped it as the question left her lips. He should have reminded them both of where they stood. That as much as he could satiate her curiosity, this was below himself. Below what the legion stood for. He was the leader of the Frumentarii, among Caesar’s most trusted. He had led countless mission to strengthen the Legion, shed any blood necessary. He did not need such comfort. he had learned to shed such unnecessary desire, to rise above corruption. Vulpes knew it well.
But her curiosity was intoxicating. A curiosity that prodded and touched at everything that it could, turned any rock over to learn more, to know more. Knowledge carefully tucked away in a corner of her mind. He had laid under her gaze night after night, letting her mind unravel him inch by inch. Ripping truth from his skin as he sinned against himself. Silent vow of forgiveness uttered to Mars as he indulged her. The Courier never forced it out of him, letting him cross each line when he was ready.
Waiting for a fox to willingly step into the trap.
And as they sat there under the stars, the desert and the fire laying dormant, all he could hear was their heartbeat beating in unison. Unwilling to tear himself from her. Vulpes laid his head against her shoulder, settling into the crook of her neck. He felt her shoulder relax, shoulder sagging under his cheek as she leaned her head against his, hair tickling the side of his face.
Vulpes’ hands had remained in his laps, fingers fiddling anxiously with each other. For even if that familiar feeling still clung to his memory, he had long forgotten anything that a hug entailed. What one should do during it, how they should feel or act. All that he remembered was the warmth that accompanied it.
The act was useless for a Legionnarie. And yet, his mind could not help but wonder if he could have forgotten more. The thought barely remained for a moment before he pushed it aside, eyes squeezing shut as he head burrowed further into her neck. If the Courier had sensed his inner turmoil, she had said nothing, leaving her hands to speak as they travelled beyond his shoulders.
One travelled upward, settling at the base of his nape, fingers tangled in his hair. He felt each of her fingers running through his short hair, each strands passing through them. Her fingers were warm and gentle, a welcome change to the howling cold night. Vulpes felt his forehead relax under her touch, releasing his furrowed frown.
The other travelled downward, searching until it settled in the small of his back. Her thumb caressed his back as she pulled him ever so closer, a sigh escaping Vulpes’ lips. His shoulder relaxed under the gentle pressure, leaning further against hers. Vulpes lifted his hands from his laps, seeking warmth as his hands found her abdomen, pulling her ever so closer. Hands settling on her side, tugging at the
Sleep claimed him, not long after, as he laid in her embrace, his promise of prayer all but forgotten. The scent of sand and sweat surrounded him as he settled in the crook of her neck. Warmth seeped through his whole body, from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. The gentle pressure of her fingers against his skin lured him deeper in his slumber.
Vulpes Inculta had been hugged, once.