The need.
The all-consuming, stomach clenching, need comes upon him.
He doesn’t always feel it, it doesn’t always come knocking, but with her he does.
Out in their forested space, amidst the tangles of vines and sun-kissed leaves, the urge to command her down to her knees is so sweet it’s already taking shape on his tongue as he thinks it.
With that curious glint in her eye, ever-shyness and submissive and eager and oh so fucking sweet, gods help him, she lowers herself down to her knees in movement that feels slow and dream-like.
He waits with a breath caught in his throat. He wants to bite that lovely, pulsing throat of hers as he guides himself to her bare cunt.
But that will come.
Relief hounds him. His senses are firing. All he can think of is this moment.
‘Yes, Sir?’
Her sweet voice fills the air. Begins to weave a spell upon his mind — but he wrestles free of her and her gaze. No.
He grips his cock — it’s so fucking achingly hard that he can’t help the moan that spills loose from his wet lips. The forked branches of the trees around them catch his sighs and throw it back at him. He feels the rumble in his chest. A growl.
And it comes.
The relief is orgasmic.
Incredible.
Feral.
Ecstasy.
His stream hits her so suddenly she flinches in surprise but the shock that skirts in her eyes transforms to delight, to a shy grin.
Through the daze he watches her scoop up her gorgeous tits — a ‘handful’ she calls them — with one arm as she rolls her tortured nipple between finger and thumb.
Her body writhes. Stomach lifts from where she’s rooted to the ground. Like a tree he’s relieving himself against, comes a thought.
Her thighs clench and her fingers pinch and pull and stretch her nipple and she lets out a coo so strangled it sounds animalistic.
His feral fucking animal.
This is their first time doing this. It was on the cards they have decided and the cards they have spoken.
‘You’re mine.’ He finds himself saying. Are the words his or is he possessed by the forest? By the relief tugging at this stomach as he urinates on his plaything.
Is it warm? Is it welcoming? Is it cleansing?
She lets her tits fall and he watches as her hands wander between her legs. He allows them passage. Watches as she spreads her lips and draws a finger along her clit. He hopes she aches for the relief as much as he did.
And then it dies and he is done and he drops to his knees to meet her lovely eyes in their shaded realm.
‘Did you like it?’
The laughter - joyous, orgasmic, light - comes bursting out of her. As if delayed from the moment she first felt him on her and her mind only now catches up.
‘Mmhmm.’
She’s still grinding into her hand. A needy kitten.
‘Get on all fours. Now, pet. I want to fuck you like the feral little fuck you are right now.’
‘Yes, Surrr.’ She giggles and slurs, ever the sassbrat. But she follows the command any way, tits soaked in him, beads of urine rolling past her navel.
His own feral fucking forest Princess.