Chapter 7 #2
He pulled her closer, one hand cradling the curve of her neck, the other at her hip like he was mooring himself to her.
And maybe he was.
Because she kissed him like he was home. And he kissed her like she was sacred.
The garden, the fading light, even the questions still waiting in the corners of her mind drifted away.
There was only the thrum of something ancient, the steady certainty that whatever this was, it had already begun long before either of them knew it.
Emotion swelled in her chest, hot and overwhelming.
“You’re going to ruin me,” she whispered.
“No,” he said, voice low. “I’m going to love you so thoroughly you’ll forget what it feels like to be anything but.”
She pulled him to her, then, to kiss him with the unguarded need that came from a place too deep to name. Her fingers gripped the collar of his shirt as he pulled her flush against him, and the illusion shimmered around them, wildflowers swaying like they could feel it too.
Gael’s hands framed her face, thumbs brushing the corners of her mouth before sliding into her hair. His lips moved against hers like a vow, like a prayer. She opened for him, letting him taste her, and the kiss deepened, sweet and a little desperate.
He guided her gently down to the blanket, lowering her onto the soft cushions as if laying her into a bed of clouds. The air around them pulsed with magic, with hunger, and with the certainty that this was so much more than lust.
Beth’s fingers slid beneath the hem of Gael’s shirt, and he let her pull it off, his body warm and solid as around them, the meadow swayed with impossible life.
She shed her sweater next, baring her skin to the heat of his gaze.
When his eyes roamed over her, she basked in it, with the garden alive around them and his attention on her like the goddess he’d called her.
“You undo me,” he murmured, voice thick.
She answered with a kiss, deep and unguarded, pulling him into her. He unhooked her bra with sure hands. The fabric fell away, and his mouth replaced it, trailing down her throat, across her collarbone, then lower, until she gave in to him with a breathless sound.
She undressed the rest of the way beneath his touch, the blanket cool beneath her, the illusion blooming wilder around them. Wild blooms bent toward them, and in the distance, faint chiming like wind bells echoed as if the magic itself sighed.
He stripped with urgency, joining her in the soft glow of their not-quite-real world.
“Let me taste you. All of you,” he murmured, his voice dark velvet.
She expected him to move down her body and was all for it. What she didn’t expect was the sudden, unmistakable sensation of being lifted. “What—Gael?”
He didn’t answer, at least not with words.
Magic wrapped around her like a second set of hands.
Warm, firm, and entirely confident in its intent.
Her stomach flipped as the world spun, and before she could form a coherent protest, she was being turned, slowly and effortlessly, until she straddled his face, with her face hovering above his majestic dick.
It was just as beautiful as the rest of him. “Oh,” she said. “Hello, gorgeous.”
He chuckled against her pussy, which was oddly hot, and his hands slid up her thighs as his mouth went to work between them like he was feeding on starlight.
Her breath turned wild, hands braced on the ground as the world narrowed to nothing but his tongue, his grip, the way magic curled around her like vines pulsing with greed.
She lowered her mouth to him in return, letting her lips part around the thick weight of him. His hips jerked up in a sharp inhale, a curse muttered in Elvish, and his tongue faltered for just a second before doubling down.
They moved in tandem, gasps and groans drifting into the wind, bodies trembling, the illusion alive with flickering light and whispering grass.
Gael growled something low and urgent, and with a flick of power, spun her again. One moment she was straddling his face, her mouth full of him; the next, she was flat on her back beneath him, his body pinning hers with desperate, aching need. “Let me in,” he said, breath ragged.
She opened her legs, her body, her heart. That was it. That was yes.
He entered her in one deep, slow thrust, so hot and thick and overwhelming she forgot how to breathe.
Her nails bit into his shoulders as his hips rocked into her.
The meadow bloomed wider. The wind sang.
And between one heartbeat and the next, they fell into each other like they’d never been separate at all.
Beth arched beneath him, chasing the rhythm, her moans breaking free with every thrust. He kissed her like he needed to taste the sounds she made, and when she cried out against his mouth, he swallowed it like it was sacred.
“Look at me,” he demanded, voice wrecked. “I want to see you when you fall.”
She did. Gods help her, she did.
Her fingers curled in his hair, her heels pressed into the back of his thighs to pull him deeper, closer. The illusion shimmered around them, petals spinning in the air, light flickering through branches that weren’t really there. But none of it mattered.
The tension snapped first in her. She shattered with a cry, clinging to him as her body clenched around him, pulsing in waves that made her see stars.
Gael followed her with a growling sound, then slumped forward, breath shuddered, face buried in her neck, hands fisted the blanket.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
The illusion pulsed once—light dimming, petals dissolving—and slowly gave way to the garden around them. The rustle of wind through tomato vines. The scent of soil. The cool hush of early evening settling in.
And still, everything felt lit from within.
Beth smoothed a hand down his back, fingertips tracing lazy paths. His skin was warm against hers, the weight of him a comfort she didn’t know she’d wanted until she had it. He kissed her then, slow and sweet and real. The magic might have been gone, but nothing had faded from her feelings
Beth ran her fingers through Gael’s hair, brushing grass away from it. “You realize I’m never going to be able to look at my garden the same way again.”
He huffed a laugh against her shoulder. “We’ve officially defiled an ecosystem.”
She smirked, stretching just enough to glance at a cluster of thyme. “My plants are never going to emotionally recover.”
“I’ll talk to them,” he said, rising to his feet with majestic grace. He pulled her up, then swept her into his arms.
“Are we going inside?”
“We are,” he murmured, already carrying her toward the house. “Where we’ll start it all over again. With fewer witnesses.”