And I did—not just physically, but deeper, as if the Unity dream had opened a channel between us. I felt his pleasure as if it were my own, felt the tight heat of my body around him, felt the satisfaction of claiming and being claimed.
Our rhythm built, the vines moving in perfect counterpoint to Lor’s thrusts, his tail tightening around my waist as his control began to fray. Sweat slicked our bodies, the scent of our coupling filling the air—musky, primal, perfect.
When the second climax took me, it was even more powerful than the first. I cried out his name, my body clenching around him, around the vines, every muscle drawn tight as pleasure crashed through me in endless waves.
Lor followed me over the edge with a roar that shook the dream jungle, his body shuddering against mine as he poured himself into me, claiming me in the most primal way possible.
In the aftermath, as we lay tangled together, the vines retreated, leaving only the two of us wrapped in each other’sarms. Lor’s tail remained curled possessively around my waist, his face buried in my neck.
“Mine,” he murmured against my skin, the word soft but unshakeable. “Always mine.”
“Always yours,” I whispered back, the truth of it settling into my bones like it had always been there, waiting to be acknowledged.
The dream began to fade around us, reality tugging at the edges of our shared consciousness. But the connection remained, stronger than before, a bridge between our souls that not even waking could sever.
His last words followed me back to consciousness, a promise and a vow.
“I will find you in every dream, kassari. And one day, in every waking moment too.”
I woke with a moan,flushed and soaked through. Mortified.
Even more so when I realized he’d been curled a few feet away, tense, his tail twitching in his sleep like he knew.
Lor’s eyes were closed, but his body was far from relaxed. He’d positioned himself at the entrance to our shelter, back against the trunk, one leg bent at the knee. His tail—that talented, devious tail from my dream—flicked against the moss floor, the tip curling and uncurling in a rhythm that matched the pulsing ache between my thighs.
I pressed my legs together, trying to silence the evidence of what had happened in our shared dream. My skin felt too tight, too hot, too everything. I needed water. Air. Distance.
The vines around my sleeping platform shifted, responding to my distress. Phil—my clingy vine friend—curled around my wrist in what felt like concern.
“I’m fine,” I whispered, patting Phil absently. “Just...need a minute.”
The truth was, I needed more than a minute. I needed to wash away the sweat and the…other evidence of what had happened in the dream. I needed to feel human again, to remember who I was beyond this primal connection that seemed determined to consume me.
I sat up slowly, careful not to disturb Lor. His ear twitched slightly, but his breathing remained deep and even. Was he truly asleep? Or just pretending to give me privacy in the aftermath of what we’d shared?
The thought that he might have experienced it all—every touch, every sensation, every shameless sound I’d made—sent fresh heat flooding my face.
“Get it together, Miri,” I muttered to myself, running a hand through my tangled hair. “It was just a dream.”
Except it wasn’t. Not really. It was more—a connection, a bond, something that transcended ordinary human experience. The evidence was all over me, in the lingering sensitivity of my skin, the phantom pressure of vines that weren’t physically there, the taste of him still on my tongue.
I needed to wash. Now.
“Phil,” I whispered, turning my attention to the vine still wrapped around my wrist. “I need water. Somewhere I can clean up. Is there...I don’t know...a safe pond or something nearby?”
The vine tightened briefly, then tugged gently, urging me toward the edge of the platform. I hesitated, glancing at Lor. Still “asleep,” though I swore I saw the corner of his mouth twitch.
Fine. If he was going to pretend, so would I.
I followed Phil’s guidance, carefully easing past Lor’s outstretched leg. His tail stilled as I approached, then deliberately moved aside to clear my path. Definitely awake, then. But thankfully playing along with my need for space.
“I’ll be back,” I whispered, not meeting his eyes. “Just need to...freshen up.”
A low rumble of acknowledgment was his only response. That, and the slight flare of his nostrils as he caught my scent—my very obvious, very aroused scent. Great.
I scrambled down from our perch with as much dignity as I could muster, which wasn’t much. Phil and two smaller vines helped, providing handholds and support as I descended to the jungle floor. The moss beneath my bare feet was cool and damp, a small relief against my overheated skin.
“Okay, Phil,” I said once I was safely on the ground. “Where’s this water?”
