The Druid's
Devotion

Under the open sky of the Reithwin wilds, Halsin's massive hands find their home on the curve of your waist, cradling you like something sacred. He lays you down on soft moss with a reverence that steals your breath, then worships every callus, every bruise the road left behind—his lips tracing the map of your survival. When he finally sinks into you, a low, resonant sound vibrates through your bones; he moves with patient, druidic strength, deep and unhurried, drawing two climaxes from you before he allows himself the shuddering release he's held back. Afterward, with your forehead pressed to his shoulder and his heartbeat solid under your ear, he speaks of the forest—of peace, of a future without the Absolute's taint. For the first time in months, you almost let yourself believe.