The Dryad’s Trap Hudson #4
What I found on the other side made me stop breathing for a moment.
It was an atrium. An actual atrium, with a ceiling open to the night sky.
The full moon hung directly overhead, enormous and pale, spilling silver light down onto a landscape that shouldn’t have existed inside this building.
There were trees, real trees, not potted plants but actual living trees with bark and branches and dirt.
A natural pool sat in the center, steam rising off its surface in delicate spirals.
The air was thick with humidity and that intoxicating floral scent, and everything was overgrown with plants I couldn’t even begin to name.
Vines hung from the invisible ceiling supports.
Moss covered the stones around the pool’s edge.
It was like someone had carved a piece of the forest out of the world and transplanted it here, intact and thriving.
For a long moment I just stood there, trying to reconcile what I was seeing with what I knew about the bathhouse’s layout.
This shouldn’t exist. There was no space for this.
The building from the outside was a flat corrugated box with no indication of depth or height.
And yet here I was, standing under the open sky with moonlight dancing on my wet skin.
Then I saw him.
He was standing at the far edge of the pool, and he was so massive that my first thought was that the space had warped to accommodate him, that the atrium had expanded just to give him room to exist. He was easily seven feet tall, maybe more, with a body that looked carved from dark wood.
His skin had a grain to it, a subtle pattern that caught the moonlight and threw it back like polished oak.
And his hair was long and wild, made of what looked like actual vines and moss and living things, woven through with flowers that matched the scent in the air.
He was completely naked, and his cock… Fuck, his cock was enormous.
It hung heavy between his thighs, already half-hard, and it had a texture to it that was unlike anything I’d ever seen.
There were ridges along the shaft that looked almost like roots wrapping around it, and it was a deep brown color that matched his skin.
As I watched, unable to move, it twitched slightly, and a bead of clear fluid gathered at the tip like nectar.
His eyes found me across the distance of the atrium. They were green. Definitely not a human green, but a vibrant, impossible green like new leaves in spring. And when those eyes locked on mine, I felt something shift inside my chest, something that had been dormant for years suddenly woke up.
“Welcome,” he said, and his voice was like wind through branches, deep and resonant and making my bones vibrate. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
My throat went dry. “Waiting for me?”
“Yes.” He moved then, stepping away from the pool’s edge with a grace that didn’t match his size.
Each step brought him closer, and I could see more detail now.
I could see the way the vines in his hair moved independently of his head and the faint shimmer of moisture on his skin like morning dew. “I’ve been waiting a very long time.”
I should have been afraid. Should have turned around and walked back through that door and pretended I’d never seen any of this place, that by all rights, shouldn’t exist. But my body wasn’t listening to my brain anymore.
My cock was already hardening again, responding to the intense floral scent in the air.
And there was something about the way he was looking at me that made me feel like I was the only thing that really mattered in his world.
“I don’t know you,” I said, and my voice came out higher than I intended.
“No,” he agreed, and he was close enough now that I could smell him more clearly, that green, growing smell, like soil and rain and things blooming in the dark. “But I know you, Hudson Marsh. I’ve known you for longer than you’d believe.”
The fact that he knew my name made my heart skip a beat.
Sure, the bathhouse had my card on file.
But this place was discreet and private.
That’s why everyone loved it. And yet hearing it in his voice, in that atrium that shouldn’t exist, made my stomach flutter.
It should’ve been worrying. Instead, it just turned me on more.
He stopped a few feet away from me, and his cock was fully hard now, jutting up from his body at an angle.
It was impossibly thick, the ridges along its shaft catching the moonlight.
And that bead of fluid at the tip had grown into a small stream, running down the side of his shaft.
Even from this distance I could smell it, that floral, honeyed scent that was making my head swim. It was coming from his dick.
“What are you?” I asked.
“A dryad,” he said simply. And then, “Your mate.”
The word landed in my chest like a stone dropped into still water. “I don’t believe in that.”
“I know.” He smiled, and it was gentle, patient. “That’s why I’m going to show you instead of telling you.”
He moved faster than something that large should have been able to move.
One moment he was standing a few feet away, and the next he was in front of me, his massive hand coming up to cup my face.
His palm was warm and slightly rough, textured like bark.
His thumb traced my jawline, and I felt my resistance crumbling far too quickly.
“Please. Let me show you,” he whispered, and leaned down.
I didn’t move or back away. I couldn’t. My feet wouldn’t listen.
His mouth was soft, which I hadn’t expected.
I’d expected everything about him to be hard and wooden and inhuman, but his lips were warm and full and tasted like honey and flowers and something wild.
He kissed me like he had all the time in the world, like we weren’t standing naked in an impossible forest inside a bathhouse.
He kissed me like this meant something, like I meant something.
I found my hands moving without my permission, reaching up to touch his chest. The texture was surprising, not quite wood, but not quite skin either. Something in between, living and breathing and warm. I could feel his heartbeat under my palm, steady and strong and real.
When he pulled back, I was breathing hard.
“Come,” he said, taking my hand. His grip was gentle but firm, leading me toward the pool. “There’s so much I want to show you.”
He pulled me into the water with him, and it was perfect.
It was warm but not hot, with a faint mineral scent that made me think of the hot springs I’d visited once out west. The bottom of the pool was soft, covered in what felt like moss or maybe sand, and yielding under my feet.
He drew me deeper, until the water was up to my chest, and then he turned me around so my back was to him.
“Trust me,” he murmured against my ear, and his breath was warm and sweet.
I felt his hands on my shoulders, and then he was turning me around again, pressing me back against the pool’s edge. The stone was slick under my palms as I braced myself, and then he was sinking down into the water, his massive frame moving between my legs.
“What are you—” I started, but then I felt his tongue drag over my balls, and the words dissolved into a gasp.
He was thorough. Patient. His lips traced the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, moving slowly toward my hardening cock.
I could feel the slight texture of his mouth, like it had that same grain as his skin, and each touch sent electricity shooting up my spine.
His hands gripped my hips, holding me in place, and I realized with a start that I wasn’t trying to get away.
When his mouth finally wrapped around the head of my cock, I threw my head back and let out a sound I didn’t recognize.
He took me slowly, inch by inch, his throat working around me in a way that suggested he’d had lots of practice.
Or maybe just that he was designed for this, that his body knew exactly how to pleasure mine in a way that felt inevitable.
No. Fated mates weren’t a thing. That was just werewolf mythology. And even if it was real, it didn’t apply to people like me.
The water lapped at my knees as he worked, and I could feel the current he was creating with his movements. His tongue traced the underside of my shaft, and every touch felt like it was wired directly to my nervous system, pleasure coursing through me more intensely than seemed possible.
But then he did something that made me gasp even louder.
He pulled back just enough to let me see what he was doing, and I watched as he opened his mouth wider and took me deeper, his throat stretching to accommodate me.
And as he did, I felt his throat work around my cock, warm and flexing in just the right ways.
I groaned with delight. Nobody had ever sucked me this good in my life.
I buried my fingers in the vines of his hair, careful not to pull too hard, and he hummed around my cock, sending vibrating pleasure through my body. The sound was low and musical, pleasing as much to the ear as it was to my dick.
“Fuck,” I breathed, and the dryad pulled back just enough to smile at me, my cock still resting against his lower lip.
“We’ll do that too,” he promised, and his voice was thick and wanting. “But first, I want to taste every part of you.”
He released me from his mouth and sank lower in the water.
His hands guided my legs apart, and I felt his shoulders settle between my thighs as he tipped me back onto the soft moss of the shore.
For a moment I thought he was going to suck me off again.
But then he pushed my legs back, exposing me completely.
And before I could comprehend what was happening, I felt his tongue lick a long, hot stripe over my hole.