My tongue works faster, deeper, curling it inside her.
“I won’t be for much longer,” I growl into her.
Vaelisfloods my mouth, and I drink it down like a man dying of thirst. I work her clit with my tongue—circling, flicking, sucking until she’s buckling on top of me.
“Itra’velis kai’saelûn” I hum. (You’re dripping for your mate.)
I lift her again, muscles bulging under my white fur. She can see them—can see exactly how hard I’m working to make her come on my tongue.
“Let me feel it run down my throat,” I snarl. “So I never forget how you taste when you come for your rhûen’ka.”
Her thighs clamp around my head. Her fingers pull at my antlers. Her whole body goes taut.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” She moans with a broken cry, her release coating my tongue.
I lick every drop she makes for me until she’s boneless and panting above me.
One of my arms slides around her back, the other cradles her hips to keep her close as I lean forward carefully, lowering her toward the ground. I lick her through the entire descent, slow, languid strokes that make her whimper and writhe in my grip. Her thighs tremble against my shoulders as I ease her down onto the plush bed of moss beneath us. The sound of her slickness still thick in my ears.
"Veyr'nes delora," I groan against her. (You are delicious.) "Veyr'thrae kael ael'mira." (Your taste is mine alone.)
The forest responds.
Frostvines emerge from the moss like they've been waiting for her.
They slither up her arms, stretching them above her head, wrists bound together. Another twines beneath her thighs, and curls around her calves, spreading her slowly like they're offering her to me.
She gasps and throws her head back onto the moss.
“Andrik, what's —”
“The forest knows,” I rasp against her, my tongue still working her swollen flesh. “It knows that you're mine. That you’re ours.”
She shivers, thighs parting wider as the vines stretch her open. I groan when I pull back and see her pink flesh dripping with nectar that glistens in the moonlight.
My knot is starting to swell, throbbing with each one of her gasps. I shift on my knees, trying to ease the pressure, but it only makes it worse. My hips jerk forward, involuntarily searching for her, and I hiss through my teeth.
I won't give in until she’s ready. I force myself to focus on her, but gods, it's getting harder to think. I lick her faster, desperate to distract myself, to lose myself instead of the unbearable ache between my legs. The tips of the vines start to bloom. Small clusters of frostberries unfurl from their stems, blushing blue and pink. I stare as they continue to emerge near her thighs, her wrists, all around her bound form.
I reach beside her, fingers grazing the frostvines near her hip. Their skin is tight, gleaming with dew, the size of small strawberries. I've never seen them grow like this before.
“Look at what the forest gives you,” I murmur. “Even it wants to feed you to me. ”
I stroke one berry, and it hums with power—thrumming against my fingertips like it knows what I plan to do.
I blow across them in a soft , shimmering exhale, and frost spreads over their surface, sparkling like crystal. Just one,” I rasp, lifting it to her entrance. “Let me feed from you, Saelûn. Let me taste what the forest made for us.”
“What are you doing?” Her eyes darken, thighs twitching against the vines.
“Trust me,lumina’ka.” I slowly press the first berry inside her.
Then another. And another.
Each one is cool and perfect as it slips into her slick heat, stretching her. Her hips buck, trying to grind down, and my kaevûn leaks at the sight.
“Andrik, they feel so good.”
I growl low in my chest, watching the way her body flutters around the berries. Hints of periwinkle and blush peek at me when I press the last one inside.
