Triumph, twisted pleasure lights his eyes a split second before he gives a hard thrust of his hips.
He lets me wail into the heavens, head back towards the yawning expanse of night encompassing us as my body greedily pulls him in. Opens to take him like I was always meant to. My channel hugs him with a vengeance that bares his sharp, jagged teeth.
“Back where you belong,” he breathes into the corner of my lips. “Never letting you go again.”
Love you.
Love you.
I love you!
The words repeat in an endless loop that drowns everything the harder he moves inside me. It cyclones in my chest with every hungry kiss. We move together without an inch of space between us. We move like we’ve done this a million times. He kisses me with a reverence and love that leaves me choked.
When I cum, it’s not frenzied and wild, but a crash of souls that pangs so deep I burst into tears.
“I have you,” he soothes lovingly into my shoulder. “You’re mine. Mine, Rina. Always.”
I tighten my arms and keep my face buried in the curve between his neck and shoulder as he continues to move inside me.
His cum hits my walls. Scorching hot. Endless. A flood of such bliss I squeeze my eyes shut as he fills me.
“Are you hurt?” he asks gently, long fingers gliding along the arch of my back.
I shake my head. “I missed you,” my heart blurts.
He squeezes me closer. “It will never happen again.”
“No,” I squeak when he tries to slide himself from my body. I grip him tighter and clench my channel like a fist to keep him in place.
He chuckles into my shoulder. “As you wish.”
With us locked together, he moves. Following the pathway deeper through the jungle. I lay my cheek against the hard, twining roots across his shoulder and watch the familiar scenery drift past.
The room he takes me to is a bedroom settled amongst a serene canopy of forest. Even the bed is an elaborate artwork of tangled roots and twisted branches built straight from the forest floor. Despite the open sky above, it’s warm. Secluded.
But he doesn’t go to the bed. He takes us further, deeper through the dark forest with the filmy, green hue and stops when it all opens in a beautiful cliffside overlooking a vast landscape of indigo blue and infinite night.
“Welcome back, my love,” he says, leaning back into the winding roots binding together beneath him to create a hammock chair that creaks with the weight of us settling into its curve.
It’s all beautiful without question, but my only focus is the creature beneath me. Inside me.
He is no longer cloaked beneath the shadows, the cloud of darkness that kept him hidden. Every rugged line, every sharp dip of his features is finally mine to enjoy.
Where the boys wear the faintest memory of humanity, he does not, nor does he care to when he is the oldest thing here. When he has watched every tree, shrub and blade of grass sprout into existence.
He’s a demiurge.
A being of untold power, and he’s watching me with the awe of someone witnessing the doors of paradise open before him.
“Hi,” I whisper stupidly, not sure what you’re supposed to say to a demiurge.
The corner of his mouth quirks. “Hello, little one.”
His voice rumbles with the infinity of sand. Of endless time and shifting space. It’s ancient. The kind of rumble not designed to be heard by mortal ears.
In all the times I’ve been brought before him in my dreams, I never gave thought to where the vines came from. We’re surrounded by trees. The answer seemed obvious, but they are him. He is the vines, the sticks and branches. Not exactly a tree, but beneath the dark cloak, he’s tightly interlocked roots that band over a broad chest, hug a tapered waist and long, strong legs.
Upon his head, he wears a crown of ivory. Broad arcs of bone that extend from the sides of his skull, a vivid contrast to the flawless midnight of his complexion. The hard curves of his cheekbones. The firm set of his lips. His eyes have no color, but glint like the darkest parts of the ocean. They sit like twin pools beneath a heavy brow and thick, dark locks that fall in inky waves to his shoulders.
