Page 6 of Dominating the Dryad

The Cottage in the Woods

The path through the forest is barely visible, at least to humans. But Perenneos knows it by heart. It takes twice as long as normal—Tristan is slowing them down—but it’s still pleasurable. He points out some trees and bushes of particular interest along the way, explaining how they contribute to the woodlands and the animals living here.

“Are you really not cold?” Tristan asks randomly.

“No.” Peri looks up at him. At his billowing shirt under his long leather coat. “Are you? We should hurry. I have a fireplace in my cottage, and I can make you some tea.”

Peri tightens his grip on Tristan’s hand and ups their speed. It only takes them a couple more minutes to reach the protective wards surrounding his cottage, and—thanks to their linked hands—Tristan is able to enter without a hitch.

His little cottage is located a bit away from the rest of his people, in its own bubble of protection. Peri had always been a bit of an outsider. Quiet, peculiar, and not one to surround himself with friends. Nowadays, he only visits the village of his people when he’s meeting his few friends, needs to refill his storage or see his family.

He leads Tristan through his wooden gate, past his vegetable garden and up the steps to his front door. “It’s not big, or fancy, or anything. But it’s mine,” he says when he opens the door and shows Tristan inside.

The cottage is hued in the darkness of the night, and Peri slinks past Tristan’s broad body to start lighting his lanterns.

“It’s so cozy.” Tristan follows Peri’s example and toes off his shoes to line them up by the door. “It’s so calm and homey. I love it.”

It’s simple, really. One big open room—except for pretty modern bathroom squared off in a corner (even dryads can modernize). There’s a fireplace in the middle of the wall facing the door. His bed is partly hidden behind curtains to the left, and a small kitchen and aforementioned bathroom to the right. The middle is squared off for a small dining-table and a two-person couch. Peri doesn’t get many visitors, but now he’s happy about the fact that he has two chairs and a slightly bigger couch.

“Yes, uhm,” Peri says, standing lamely in the middle of the room after having lit all his candles and lanterns. “I love it too.”

Alex doesn’t remove his coat but stands still by the entrance. Fire, Peri thinks, and jumps into action.

“Please sit,” he says, pulling a chair up to the hearth and fumbling for his matches. He had set it all up with firewood and kindling before he left home that day, expecting to want a cup of tea by the fire before sleep. Now though, he’s even more pleased with himself than he normally is.

Before long, the fire is going, he’s found a blanket and draped it over Tristan’s knees, and hung the teapot on its hook above the fire. “I need to get more firewood,” he says, already grabbing the basket and heading towards the door.

“Peri.” Tristan stands, the blanket falling to the floor. “I’m okay. I’m not cold anymore, I promise. You should sit too.”

Tristan takes the basket from Peri’s hands, twining their fingers together instead. They are so big—Tristan’s hands completely engulfing his own. Tristan’s fingers are longer and thicker, small callouses line the upper edges of his palms. And they are warm.

“I could still make tea,” he says, shoulders relaxing slightly at the evidence of Tristan’s apparent warmth. “If you want.”

“The water’s not boiling yet. Come.”

Peri is pulled by the hand to his small couch and, without much hassle, Tristan sits down and makes Peri fall into his lap. It’s more intimate than when they danced earlier. Peri’s thoughts drift off to what Tristan’s . . . not-friends? had said earlier—about sex.

Though Peri is curious and eager, he’s never had sex before, and the thought of having his first time with Tristan makes his skin heat. He squirms on Tristan’s lap. What does one do in situations like this? Should he place his arms around Tristan’s shoulders? Lean in and kiss him again? It had been nice when they’d danced earlier.

Tristan, though, is once again sure of what he’s doing. His strong arms encircle Peri’s waist, pulling their bodies flush and making Peri’s breath stutter. Their lips meet again, but this time Peri knows what to expect—knows what to do.

He throws his arms around Tristan’s shoulders and angles his head to lick his way past Tristan’s lips at once, wanting and taking all he can. With a surprised sound, Tristan meets his enthusiasm with equal measure. He opens up at once and their tongues meet in the middle.

Peri sighs into Tristan’s mouth—the sound instantly getting swallowed up by Tristan’s eager lips—and melts into his hold. There’s something about the way he fits into Tristan’s arms, the way his fingers wrap around his waist and gently stroke the sliver of exposed skin along his middle, that just feels right. In the circle of Tristan’s arms, all pieces of Peri’s being slot together into a perfect puzzle. One he wants to glue together, frame, and hang on his wall.

He draws his arms tighter around Tristan’s neck to get closer. There’s not a sliver of space between them. But, Peri’s still not close enough. He wants to merge with Tristan. Sadly, it’s not possible.

Turning more towards Tristan, Peri tries to move his legs so he can straddle him—needing more. Wanting to feel that delicious imprint of Tristan’s cock against his body again. Maybe even against his own hardening member. He manages to turn and is just about to sink back into Tristan’s lap when . . .

The kettle comes to a boil, making its presence known with a screeching whistle.

They break the kiss, both staring bright-eyed at the offending kettle. “I’m not really up for tea anymore. Are you?” Tristan asks, hands caressing Peri’s body, moving up his back and across his thighs.

“No.” Peri looks between the still whistling tea-kettle hanging above the fire and Tristan, quickly making a decision. “I’m not.”

He—regrettably—gets up and makes quick work of moving the kettle away from fire and into the sink. On his way back across the floor, Peri throws a couple logs into the fire before opening the curtains to reveal his bed. His bravery fades quickly, though, when he turns back to Tristan.

“This is it,” he says, biting his lip.