Page 3 of Dominating the Dryad

They’re facing the dance-floor and the undulating crowd. A couple is openly making out right in front of them, tongues clashing between their lips and hands groping each other’s bodies. So, before he can even settle against Tristan’s body, Peri turns back around, hiding away in Tristan’s chest.

“Did you get shy?” Tristan coos. “You’re so cute.”

After some twisting and turning, they’re at attempt number two. This time when Peri stands pressed against Tristan’s front, he’s facing the wall. It’s more hidden this way, even though he’s fully aware that the very same people are right behind them. But now, Tristan’s body is between Peri and the chaos—he’s protected.

Tristan brushes Peri’s long hair away and flips it all over one shoulder, giving him free access to his neck. “Relax,” he says, lips skittering across Peri’s skin. “Lean back against me, and move to the music.”

Closing his eyes, Peri takes a deep breath and lets his head fall back against Tristan’s chest. The music pounds through his body, and slowly he starts to see the appeal. Its heavy base makes him vibrate with a hazy need for more. More of Tristan’s touch, more of his lips against his skin, and more of them pressing together.

Tristan’s hands trickle down his body to curl around his hips. “Grind back against me,” he whispers, helping by manipulating Peri’s body around. “You wanted to dance like them, didn’t you?”

Things are happening in his body that Peri has never felt before. Heat creeps across his skin, curling in his belly, and he has to grab hold of Tristan’s arms to keep steady.

“Try it.” Tristan nips at Peri’s shoulder. “Dance, Peri.” His voice has an undercurrent of a command, and Peri can feel his body responding before his mind processes it.

He presses his body back against Tristan, tentatively swiveling his hips. Tristan’s hands tighten around him, gently guiding his body and urging him on. This is far from how Peri danced with his fellow dryads—they always stayed an arm’s length away, and this is the closest he’s ever been to another person who wasn’t his family.

But he can see why people dances like this. Peri feels alive.

Tristan grinds in sync with him, his hands slowly moving around—stroking up Peri’s sides, down the curves of his hips and swells of his ass. His hands are everywhere.

“That’s it. You’re doing so well, Peri. Just move to the music.”

With a deep breath, Peri relaxes. He pushes past the swirl of unfamiliar scents and sounds, concentrating fully on the feel of Tristan behind him. He brings a hand up to curl around Tristan’s neck, pulling his face closer to the exposed skin of his neck—wanting more.

Tristan’s lips trace a line from his ear to the crook of his shoulder, and with the help of a finger he pulls Peri’s shirt to the side to pepper more kisses across his skin. Peri can’t help but gasp, happy that his sounds are covered up by the loud music.

“I want to do more than dancing,” Tristan says hotly against his skin, pressing his hips against Peri’s ass. “You fit so well into my arms. You’re so tiny. I wonder what you’d feel like beneath me in bed.”

Leaning more heavily against Tristan, Peri tilts his head to give Tristan more access. Their bodies are pressed so close together, not a sliver of air can pass between them. And he can feel more than Tristan’s hips.

The bulge is big, hard, and very, very recognizable. And it’s poking right between Peri’s butt cheeks.

Testing his limits, Peri grinds his hips back with the sole purpose of feeling Tristan’s cock press against him. And, fuck, does it feel good.

Peri’s breath catches on a moan, and he loses his balance, having to stabilize himself with both hands against the wall. He’d never done anything like this before. Never felt what he’s feeling right now—red, hot, burning need.

“Tristan,” he says like a prayer, but without knowing what he’s asking for.

Tristan keeps moving his hands all over Peri’s chest, thighs, and even tracing the lines of his throat and jaw. And Peri wants.

“Tristan.”

The song changes abruptly—in the middle of a fast melody—and it jerks Peri back to the present. Back to the sea of people standing just a couple of steps away, to the smell of sweat, alcohol, and smoke, and to the fact that only a couple of layers of clothing separates Tristan’s cock from Peri’s ass.

“Air,” he chokes out. “Need air.”

Tristan comes back to himself too, swiftly moving his hands to more appropriate places and tilts his hips away. “Of course,” he says, voice still hoarse. “I’ll get us out.”

In a blur of movement and heavy beats—both from the music and Peri’s heart—Tristan guides him back out the door. There’s no one else out on the back porch when they get there, and Peri can blissfully breathe clean air once again.

“You humans dance so strangely,” Peri says when they’re finally outside. The cool air of the night refreshes him and clears his head in an instant.

Tristan stills, a line appearing between his eyebrows. “‘Humans’? You’re really going all in for this Halloween thing, aren’t you?”

“Halloween?” Peri questions, too silent for Tristan to hear.

They head out to the middle of the backyard, Tristan already pulling Peri back into his arms. He wishes he weren’t wearing shoes, loves the feeling of the grass between his toes and the earth underneath his feet when he dances. It does wonders for his magic and always fills him with energy. But, having Tristan here is a wonderful substitute.