Page 2 of Dominating the Dryad

Peri’s ears are slightly pointed—and definitely longer than Tristan’s—and adorned with a couple of golden rings. Small charms, most of them whittled by himself or his parents, hang from them. They’re nothing special, really. Peri knows dryads with much more elaborate and glittering earrings.

“Your ears, aren’t they made of silicone?” Tristan is so close now, Peri can feel his breath breeze over the top of his head. He’s so tall. Peri’s never seen a dryad that tall. “Like plastic?”

Peri is very aware of plastic. “Ew, no.” He takes a step back, covering his ear protectively with his hand. “Why would my ears be made of plastic? That’s disgusting.”

Taken aback, Tristan looks puzzled. “I’m sorry? I didn’t mean to offend you.” Silence spreads between them. Peri shifts from foot to foot. He should run. This is the perfect opportunity to and he really shouldn’t have spoken—or even been seen—by the human. Tristan. But he really doesn’t want to.

“I should—” he says anyway.

“Do you want to dance?” Tristan says at the same time.

Peri likes dancing. Loves it, even. So much so that he could even look past the horrendous music pounding from the house. But Peri still narrows his eyes, skeptical. No matter how drawn he feels to this human, the talk of plastic ears makes him suspicious.

“I won’t call your ears plastic again, I promise.”

“Dancing sounds nice,” Peri concedes.

He holds his hand out—big palm turned up and looking inviting. What would Tristan’s skin feel against his own? Would he be warmer? Rougher? Or would they feel the same? Peri is filled with a sudden urge to find out.

Reaching out, he gently places his hand palm down against Tristan’s. It is warm, and small rough spots line the edge right where his fingers start. He feels strong. Tristan twists his hand and slips his fingers between Peri’s, tugging him along as he walks towards the house.

A secret little smile spreads on Peri’s face, full of excitement and nerves. He is surprisingly free of terror. Reasonably, he should be scared, as he’s standing at risk of being exiled from his people and banished from their lands if anyone finds out, but somehow this feels right. Like an instinctual feeling that tells him going with Tristan is the right thing to do. Like this is where he belongs.

Tristan’s hand in his is big. So big. Peri’s thin fingers look so fragile and breakable compared to Tristan’s. His steps are big too—long enough to force Peri to half-run his way towards the house.

A wall of heat, smells, and sounds smashes into Peri as Tristan opens the door. There are too many people inside to really fit, and more humans than Peri has ever seen before. He’s beginning to regret his decision.

“Tristan?” He says, halting his steps. Maybe they could just dance outside in the grass? That’s what dryads normally do.

With a soft smile, Tristan turns to face him. “What’s wrong?” He asks, looking questioningly between Peri and the dance-floor. “You don’t like crowds?” The base drops, and the room explodes in even more noise—both with louder music and excited screams. Peri winces. “Or noise?”

“Both.” It was an easier way of saying, humans are scary.

Tristan brings his arms up and pulls Peri close. “We won’t have to be in the middle of it, and I won’t let you out of my sight, I promise.”

Surrounded by Tristan, Peri loses breath. His heart skips a beat. The noise from the house and its people grows muffled until it dissipates completely. Tristan’s fingers slowly comb through his hair and send calming waves down his body, his tight embrace staving off whatever anxieties the raving people inside brought on.

“I’ll protect you,” Tristan says, tightening the hug further. “And we can go right back out here if it gets too much.”

Taking a deep breath—and getting a lungful of Tristan’s deep, masculine scent—Peri peeks past his broad body into the house again. People move to the thumping sound of the music like a wave. It’s like no dancing Peri’s ever seen—gyrating, close, and almost erotic. It makes his heart pound wildly in his chest.

“Okay,” he still says, following Tristan inside.

Tristan pulls him closer as they walk through the house, and Peri happily leans into his side. Even more so when a warm hand lands on the small of his back, gently guiding him—past all the people, sounds, and smells—into an isolated corner of the room. There’s some distance between them, the throng of people, and the source of the music, but everything still very much invades Peri’s senses. The only respite of it is the feeling of Tristan’s hands on his body.

They turn towards each other, Tristan guiding Peri’s arms around his neck before encircling Peri’s waist with his own. Slowly, their bodies gravitate towards each other, pressing close from thighs to chests.

Tristan leans down, his lips grazing the shell of Peri’s ear. “I saw you looking earlier,” he says, voice hot and deep. “You want to dance like the others, don’t you? Should I turn you around?”

The bubble of safety Tristan has created around them turns heated. Tension fills the air, and Peri sucks in a gasping breath. He doesn’t know how to even start answering that.

With newfound surety, Tristan tightens his hold, digging his fingers into Peri’s skin. “You would.” Their bodies arch into each other, Tristan’s hips are in line with Peri’s stomach. He feels so small. “What more would you like?”

Tristan leans back slightly, grabbing Peri’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting his face up towards him. His eyes shine with dark excitement, pupils blown wide as they look imploringly down at Peri. He strokes his thumb slowly along the edge of Peri’s jaw.

“Too flustered to talk, huh?”

Gulping, Peri curls his fingers into the fabric of Tristan’s billowy shirt. He doesn’t trust his voice, so instead he simply nods. At the sign of approval, Tristan turns him around in his arms, pressing Peri’s back to his front.