Page 4 of Dominating the Dryad

And Tristan looks so free. A soft smile graces his lips, his shoulders are relaxed, and his face is so open. Peri is drawn to him like Tristan is the sun and he’s a flower. Which isn’t too far off.

The music from inside the house reaches them all the way out here, but muffled and much easier on Peri’s sensitive ears. It’s not something he’d listen to by choice, but this far away it’s almost pleasant.

Tristan keeps one hand clasped with Peri’s and places the other around his waist—almost covering Peri’s whole side. His thumb caress across his ribs. Then they start swaying to the music. Tristan moves very human—all stiff and clumsy—and Peri can’t stop himself from smiling. It’s adorable.

“Is this how you dance?” Peri asks, laughter skittering in his voice. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” They move around the backyard, stepping and swaying (mostly) to the beat of the music. Nothing like the joyous, wild, and twirling dance he and his kind revel in.

“Not very often.” Tristan laughs along with him, a red blush coloring his cheeks. “It’s normally like what you saw inside.”

Now it’s Peri’s turn to flush. He feels the phantom press of Tristan’s body against his back—gyrating and undulating just like the people inside were. A part of him wants to go back, back to the erotic dance and the feel of Tristan’s cock against him, but the other part wants to show off and dance for Tristan. Lure him in and dazzle him, make him stay interested. Entrance him.

“That’s not how we dance,” Peri says, stepping away and only holding on to Tristan with one relaxed hand. “Want to see?”

“Of course.”

So, Perenneos dances.

He twirls, skips, and steps around Tristan, imbuing every move with a dose of his innate magic. All around him, nature answers to his call. The grass and earth beneath him absorb the energy of each step and jump, growing stronger and more alive. The trees and bushes along the edge of the backyard bustle in the wind and minutely deepen in color. And even though fall already has a firm grip around the world, everything around them grows greener, brighter, and taller. Humans will dismiss it as a trick of the eye, but Peri knows better.

Whenever he looks at Tristan, his bright eyes are burning into his skin. They never leave him. And it eggs Peri on. He adds more flourish, more spins, and more magic. His magic isn’t meant to be alluring to humans, but he knows it looks pretty. And he can tell Tristan is entranced.

Especially when Tristan tightens his hold around Peri’s hand and reins him in. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, cupping one of Peri’s cheeks. And then he leans in and presses their lips together—effectively stealing Peri’s first ever kiss.

It’s much warmer and wetter than he expected it to be. Especially when Tristan’s tongue makes its way into his mouth. Peri can do nothing but curl his hands into the fabric of Tristan’s shirt and hold on for dear life. He tries his best to keep up and catch on to what he’s supposed to do, and takes it as a win when Tristan quietly moans into the kiss.

They’re standing so close to each other, clinging on so tightly, that the world seems to consist of only them. The kiss is so lovely, and so soft, that Peri never wants it to stop.

“What the fuck are you doing, Tristan?”

Flinching, Peri rips their lips apart and takes several steps back towards the treeline. A small group of people is gathered on the porch, and Peri recognizes a couple of them as being Tristan’s friends. Most of them are snickering.

“Yeah, come on, we need you for beer pong,” another man shouts.

“Leave the little loser and come. Grant’s making hot shots.”

The words cut like a knife. They’re not necessarily horrible, but they sure cement everything Peri’s ever heard about how mean humans can be. Ruthless and cold towards others—only caring for themselves. His breath hitches and his eyes brim with unshed tears.

He expects Tristan to go to his friends. He expects to be abandoned and forced to go home alone. But instead, Tristan turns to him and closes the distance between them. He grabs hold of Peri and moves him to hide him fully behind his back—creating a barrier between Peri and the mean humans.

“Shut the fuck up, Ian,” Tristan says, anger lacing his voice. “Go back inside and leave us alone. You fucking assholes.”

“Damn, Tristan, why so sensitive?” The leader of the pack—Ian, apparently—says. “Is he letting you get some, or what? Are you really so desperate to get your dick wet?”

Heat rises on Peri’s cheeks. They’re talking about sex. Leaning forward, he buries his face in Tristan’s back. The fabric of his loose shirt is soft and a perfect place to hide. Sure, he’s heard his friends talk crudely about what happens in the bedroom before, but now, images explode in his mind.

Of him and Tristan tangled up on his bed in his cottage. And it makes him want it, even though he never has before.

“Fuck off.” Tristan brings his hands back and around Peri’s body, pulling him closer to his body. “Or you know what, we’re leaving. I’m done with this shit. I don’t even know why I hang out with you, dickheads.”

Tristan tightens his arms around Peri quickly at once, before stepping away to grab his coat. Exposed, Peri feels the stares of the astounded group of people burn into his skin. He brings his arms around his body, trying to protect himself from the scrutiny.

“Come on, Peri. We’re leaving,” Tristan says, already walking back towards him, offering his hand up again.

“Okay.”

Tristan pulls him away from the scrutinizing eyes of the group of men and around the house towards the front, stopping half-way when they’re out-of-sight. “Are you okay?” He says. “Don’t listen to them. They’re not my friends. At least not anymore. "

“Yeah, it’s . . . I’m—”