Page 9 of Dominating the Dryad

“I’m going to put the second one in now,” Tristan says, leaning down over Peri’s body to press kisses down the column of his throat. “I’ll need to stretch you out quite a bit. You’re so small and tight. We’ll need to make sure you’re open enough to take me. Because I really need you to take me.”

The second finger is harder to take. Tristan manages to push an inch in, but has to fuck his fingers back and forth for a good while until Peri finally manages to relax. Tristan gently scissors his fingers open, stretching Peri open until slowly the pain fades away and is replaced with even more need.

Curling his fingers, Tristan brushes across a spot that has Peri gasp in pleasure as his body seizes up. “This,” Tristan says, touching the same place again. “Is your prostate.”

He presses his finger across that spot once again. And Peri screams. He bows his back, curls his fingers into the sheets, and feels his whole body shudder. It’s like his soul wants to leave his body. Like his body wants to leave his body and fly up high in the sky.

“When you touch it . . .” Tristan’s lips are right by Peri’s ear now, his voice is deep and rough “. . . it makes you feel really good.”

Peri has completely lost control of his body. Shivering and trembling, he thrashes underneath Tristan’s body, both wanting more of his fingers and wanting to shy away from it. He’s never felt anything like it—a pleasure so intense he might pass out.

“Do you want to come?” Tristan asks, his fingers annoyingly stilling inside Peri. “I’m sure I can make you come like this. You’re so sensitive. So responsive.”

“Tristan,” Peri gasps, fingers digging into Tristan’s shoulder.

“Is that a ‘yes’? You’ll have to answer me, Peri.”

Peri swallows hard, fighting the moans and groans threatening to break free. “Yes.”

“Say it.” Tristan brushes his fingers against Peri’s prostate again, forcing a bubbling moan from his lips. “Say, ‘Tristan, please make me come’.”

Curling up, Peri hides his face in the swell of Tristan’s chest. The words swirl in his mind. He wants to speak them—so much that he’s burning in embarrassment—but it’s like his tongue has stopped working. He’s achingly hard. Aching to come. And all he has to do is ask.

“Please.” Tears form in his eyes. “Please let me come, Tristan. Make me. Please.”

“Good boy.”

Tristan’s fingers pick up speed, brushing over Peri’s prostate with every move. Peri’s senses explode.

The pleasure courses through his body like a raging river—untamed, wild, and uncontrollable. His magic, that’s normally hidden away out of mind and out of sight, slips past his control, making the palms of his hands heat. Had he been holding a plant—it would bloom. Instead, it spills into the sheets and bed below his hands, making the wood of the bed-frame sing and strengthen.

It only takes one more brush of Tristan’s fingers for Peri to snap. White-hot, all-consuming pleasure explodes through him like lightning. A scream rips through his throat as his back bows off the bed as he cums all over his stomach without one single touch to his cock.

He soars on wave after wave of ecstasy, as his body shudders and his magic goes wild. He doesn’t know what he looks like at all, if Tristan can see the manifestation of his pleasure or whether his face is serenely relaxed, or scrunched up tight. And he doesn’t care. He feels too good to care.

Tristan’s voice gently guides him back down with words of praise and care. His hands stroke every single part of Peri’s body, and a gently kiss to his forehead makes him open his eyes back up.

“You did so well,” Tristan says, stroking a hand across the apple of Peri’s cheek. “Are you tired? Or do you want to keep going?”

Words are hard, so Peri just blinks.

“That was intense, wasn’t it?” Tristan laughs instead. “Are you back with me yet?”

Peri takes stock of his body. He wiggles his toes, clenches and relaxes his hands, and blinks some more. Everything tingles, but in a pleasant way. His skin is buzzing with residual pleasure, and when he locks eyes with Tristan, he finds himself unable to look away.

Tristan’s eyes are soft with emotion, a crinkling smile playing at the corner of them, and Peri thinks he’ll never be able to live without those eyes again. He really hopes Tristan meant what he said earlier, he wouldn’t mind being his. In every way.

“Keep going,” he answers belatedly when he finally makes his throat work again. “I want more.”

Peri adjusts his body under Tristan’s, making their cocks brush together again. His is still soft—but interested—and Tristan is achingly hard, looking red, angry and with pre-cum beading at the tip. A part of Peri wants to lick it off, but he doesn’t know if that’s okay.

With ease, Tristan adjusts as well, smirking down at him. “You really want this, don’t you?” Tristan towers over him and makes him feel so, so small. “Is that why you approached me today? Because you wanted me to fuck you?” Tristan looks so smug.

And what he’s saying is the truth, isn’t it? Though Peri is loath to admit it, secretly—he’d even not fully admitted it to himself—he’d been drawn to Tristan for exactly that reason. He’d never felt that attracted to one of his fellow dryads, but the moment he’d laid eyes on Tristan, he’d wanted him.

Carnally. Or in whatever way Tristan would have him.

And now all he wants is so close.