Chapter 25
Chapter twenty-five
He circled her slowly, drinking in the sight while the vines adjusted their hold, spreading her legs wider, making her back arch further. His fingers trailed along her collarbone, down between her breasts, across her stomach—light touches that made her skin prickle with anticipation.
"Already so wet," he observed, his hand finally moving between her thighs, fingers gliding through her slickness. "Your body was ready before I even touched you properly. Just from the vines holding you. Just from knowing what's coming."
He pushed two fingers inside without warning, and she gasped at the sudden intrusion. Not rough, but insistent, claiming. His thumb found her clit as his fingers began to move, setting a rhythm that made her hips try to follow despite the vines holding her still.
His fingers moved with maddening precision, finding exactly the rhythm that made her thighs shake, that made her breath come in needy little gasps. But every time she got close to the edge, he'd slow down, lighten his touch.
"Already trying to come and we've barely started,” he murmured against the curve of her throat. “But that's not how this game works."
The vine around her breast tightened and released in waves, while smaller ones traced patterns on her skin, marking her in ways she couldn't see but could feel burning into her awareness.
"You come when I allow it," he continued, fingers curling inside her causing her vision to blur. "If I allow it. Depending on how well you surrender."
She tried to rock against his hand, yearning for more, but the vines held her perfectly still. She could only take what he gave, only feel what he allowed.
"That's it," he praised as she stopped fighting the restraints. "Accept it. Let your body show me how it yields."
The position, bent slightly forward, arms bound behind her, legs spread, made her feel like an offering. Something presented for his pleasure. The thought should have shamed her, but instead that warmth in her chest pulsed approval.
His free hand came around to palm her breast where the vine wasn't touching, thumb brushing over her peaked nipple. Her breathing hitched, escaping in small, erratic gasps. The feel of his fingers inside her, his hand on her breast, the vines everywhere else, was overwhelming.
"I can feel you clenching around my fingers," he observed. "Trying to keep me inside."
He withdrew his fingers slowly, and she whimpered at the loss. But before she could protest, she felt something else—a vine, thicker than the others, pressing against her entrance.
"Have you wondered," he asked softly, as if he wasn't about to violate her with his forest, "what else my vines can do? How deep they can go? How full they can make you feel?"
The vine pressed forward just slightly, barely breaching her, and she gasped at the strange sensation. It was warm, almost hot, and she could feel it pulsing with life.
"They're part of me," he continued, the vine pushing deeper with agonizing slowness. "Extensions of my will. When they're inside you, I'm inside you. Feeling what they feel. Knowing exactly how your body grips, how wet you are, how eager you are to be filled."
The vine was thicker than his fingers, stretching her in a way that bordered on too much. But her body adjusted, accepted, even welcomed the invasion.
"Perfect," he breathed when it was fully seated. "Look at you. Taking my forest like you were made for it."
The vine began to move, slow and deep, and she lost the ability to think. It seemed to know exactly how to angle itself, how to hit every sensitive spot. And unlike fingers or flesh, it could change, thickening when she needed more, adding texture that made her whole body sing.
"This is what complete surrender looks like," Eliam said, his hands roaming her body while the vine worked inside her. "No control. No choice. Just sensation and submission."
More vines joined the invasion, one finding that bundle of nerves and circling with perfect pressure, another tracing her lips until they parted and let it slip inside her mouth. She was being claimed from every angle, filled and touched and possessed by the forest itself.
The vine in her mouth tasted of green things and earth, moving shallow so she could breathe but deep enough to make her aware of its presence. Of her helplessness.
"If anyone could see you now," Eliam murmured, pinching her nipple hard enough to make her moan around the vine. "Taking my forest so beautifully, every inch of skin marked by my touch."
The vine inside her began moving faster, the one on her clit circled tighter, pressure building. She was climbing again, faster this time, with no way to slow down or control the ascent.
"Not yet," he commanded, and somehow the vines obeyed, easing their pressure just enough to keep her balanced on the edge. "You haven't earned it yet. Haven't shown me complete submission."
She made a desperate sound around the vine in her mouth, and he chuckled darkly.
"What's that? Hard to beg with your mouth full?" His hand tangled in her hair, controlling the depth of the vine between her lips. "Then beg with your body. Show me how it surrenders."
She stopped fighting entirely. Let her muscles go soft, let the vines position her however they wanted. Became nothing but a vessel for sensation, for his will made manifest through wood and leaf.
"Better," he approved. "Much better. No resistance. Just acceptance."
The vine inside her changed its rhythm, taking her with deep, claiming strokes that made thought impossible. Her whole world narrowed to the fullness, the pressure, the way every nerve sang with need.
"Now," he said, and it was permission and command both. "Come for my forest. Show me how completely you submit."
The vines worked in perfect unison, the one inside her curling at the same moment the one on her clit pressed exactly right, the one in her mouth pushing deep enough to make her feel thoroughly used. She came undone with a muffled cry, her whole body convulsing in the vines' hold.
They worked her through it, drawing out the pleasure until she was sobbing, overstimulated and shaking. Only then did they slow, though they didn't withdraw.
"Beautiful," Eliam said, pressing kisses to her shoulder. "Now..."
The vine in her mouth withdrew, and she gasped for air. But before she could speak, Eliam was moving, the vines adjusting their hold to turn her, to present her differently.
"Now," he repeated, and she heard the sound of his belt coming undone, "you get what your body has been crying out for since you called me home."
She was already oversensitive, already wrecked, but that warmth in her chest pulsed eager anticipation. Because he was right, despite the intensity of what just happened, she still felt empty. Still needed him, not just his forest.
"Please," she managed, voice hoarse.
"Yes," he said, hands settling on her hips. "Beg for it. Show me you understand the difference between what my forest can give and what only I can provide."
The vines held her open, ready, as he positioned himself. And despite everything, despite the exhaustion and oversensitivity, her body welcomed the first press of him with embarrassing eagerness.
"That's it," he growled as he pushed inside. "Take what you really need. What all the vines in the world can't replace."
He was right. The vines had been incredible, overwhelming, but this, the solid weight of him, the heat, the way he filled her, was what that warmth had been reaching for all along.
"Mine," he said with the first real thrust, burying himself deep. "Every part of you. The resistance you show, the fire you keep, all of it. Mine to claim. Mine to break. Mine to rebuild however I choose."
And as he set a rhythm that made thought impossible, as the vines continued their gentle touches around them, Briar realized with sinking certainty that he was right.
Whatever fire she kept, whatever small rebellions she managed, her body would always betray the truth.
She was his. Completely. Devastatingly.
And the worst part? She could no longer blame the strange warmth for wanting it.
She was lost in sensation, in the feeling of being completely claimed. Every thrust drove deeper, harder, and the vines pulsed in rhythm with his movements. She couldn't tell where he ended and the forest began—it was all him, all overwhelming possession.
"This is what you needed," he growled against her neck. "Not gentle touches. Not careful exploration. Complete domination."
His hands gripped her hips hard enough to bruise, holding her steady for each punishing thrust. The vines adjusted their hold, keeping her at the perfect angle, opening her to everything.
"The way you grip me," he continued, voice roughening. "Like your body never wants to let go. Like it knows exactly where it belongs."
She was climbing again, impossibly. Everything was too sensitive, too much, but her body didn't care. That warmth in her chest burned brighter with each claiming thrust, reaching for him with desperate need.
"Are you going to come again?" He sounded darkly amused. "Already? So greedy."
One hand slid around to where they were joined, fingers finding her oversensitive clit. The touch was almost painful in its intensity, but the pleasure-pain made her cry out.
"That's it," he encouraged. "Scream for me. Let the whole castle know how thoroughly you're mine."
The vines tightened their hold, one wrapping gently around her throat, making her feel held and possessed from every angle.
"I can feel you getting close," he said, thrusts becoming erratic. "The way you tighten. The way that warmth in your chest sings." His teeth found her shoulder and he bit down hard dragging a whimpering cry from her throat. "Come. Now. Take me with you."
His command pushed her over the edge. She came with a scream that echoed off stone walls, her whole body convulsing. She felt him follow, felt him pulse inside her as he growled something in the old tongue against her skin.
They stayed locked together for long moments, both breathing hard. The vines slowly, gently lowered her until she was cradled against his chest, still held but no longer suspended.
"Every time you think you can hide from me," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple that felt oddly tender, "remember this. Remember how your body betrays every thought. How it begs for my touch even when your mind rebels."
The vines finally released her completely, retreating back into the walls and floor like they'd never been. But she could still feel them, phantom touches on oversensitive skin.
He carried her to the bed, settling them both beneath the covers.
A part of her wanted to protest, to insist on space, on dignity, on something that hinted at rebellion, that showed him he hadn’t broken her completely.
But exhaustion made her limbs heavy, and the warmth of his body was too tempting after the intensity of what just happened.
"Sleep," he commanded softly. "You're exhausted now, aren't you?"
She was. Bone-deep weariness from the day, from the overwhelming intensity of his touch.
"That's what I thought," he murmured against her hair. "So restless when I arrived. But properly settled now."
As sleep pulled her under, she felt him trace the curve of her jaw with one finger, the touch feather-light and strangely reverent.
"Tomorrow, little thief, we have training. Early. Very early."
Her heart stuttered, but he just pulled her closer.
For now, held in the arms of the Forest King who'd just destroyed and remade her, she could only surrender to exhaustion.