Therrin's POV
The forest around them was thick with dusk, the golden light folding softly beneath the canopy as shadows deepened into night. Therrin sat quietly beside Ciaran, her mind still caught in the aftermath of what had happened during those shadow-bound moments—moments she barely understood but felt woven into the core of her being.
Ciaran's voice was low, careful, as he broke the silence between them. "Tell me… how did it feel when the shadows contained your wrists?" His gaze searched hers, steady and patient.
Therrin's breath hitched. She hesitated, then slowly looked down at her hands resting on her lap, fingers curling slightly. "It was… strange. Heavy, but not like a weight pressing down. More like a presence—firm, unyielding. I could feel the cold, but it wasn't just cold—it was focused, like the shadows were holding me, keeping me still, making me vulnerable."
She swallowed and glanced back at Ciaran, a flicker of something undefinable in her eyes. "It wasn't painful, exactly. But… intense. Like every nerve ending was alive, waiting."
Ciaran nodded, encouraging her to go on.
"And when they entered my mouth," she said softly, voice dropping, "I didn't expect… that. It was strange, invasive, but also… intimate, somehow. Like they were crossing a boundary but inviting me to trust them, to accept what was happening."
Ciaran's eyes darkened with understanding. "The shadows are not just cold and cruel. They can be… gentle, if you let them. They explore, touch, sense in ways nothing else can. Their power comes from connection—whether forced or invited."
Therrin's fingers tightened, a shiver running down her spine. "I didn't fight them. I don't think I could have. I just… let it happen. I was curious, but also afraid."
"That's the edge they walk," Ciaran said, voice low. "Between fear and desire. The shadows can do far more if you allow them to, things you haven't imagined yet."
He paused, his tone almost tender. "But it's your choice. You control what they touch. They respond to what you give."
Ciaran reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "There's no rush. But when you're ready, we can explore deeper. The shadows can show you things—feelings, sensations—you've never known. It's your choice, always."
Therrin met his gaze, the flicker of uncertainty replaced by something steadier, more determined.
"I want to try," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "To see how far I can go… with them, with you. I don't want to be afraid anymore."
A slow smile curved Ciaran's lips. "Then we'll take it one step at a time. Together."
The forest around them held its breath, as if waiting for what would come next.
The moon had risen high, casting a pale glow that sifted softly through the trees. Therrin's breath fluttered in her chest as she turned to Ciaran, her eyes searching.
"Can you… do it again?" she asked quietly, her voice trembling with a mixture of anticipation and trust. "The shadows binding my wrists."
Ciaran's gaze sharpened with interest, but he nodded without hesitation. "As you wish."
Slowly, he stepped back, his hands moving in a silent gesture that summoned the shadows once more. From the darkness, tendrils of black mist emerged, swirling like liquid smoke, ethereal and purposeful.
This time, instead of resting her hands in front, the shadows slid gently around her wrists and guided them behind her back. The sensation was different—more vulnerable, more intimate.
Therrin felt the cold touch coil lightly around her skin, the shadows weaving a delicate yet firm restraint. The contrast of their chill against the warmth of her skin sent a shiver cascading through her.
But the shadows were not harsh. They slithered slowly upward, tracing soft, deliberate paths along her arms, the tendrils slipping beneath the hem of her nightgown, caressing the bare skin beneath with an otherworldly gentleness.
Her breath caught, a mix of surprise and wonder blooming inside her.
Ciaran's voice was a low murmur beside her ear. "The shadows can be both restraint and sensation. They respond to your invitation, your willingness to surrender control and explore what lies beyond fear."
Therrin's fingers curled into fists at her back, muscles tightening under the unfamiliar yet captivating touch.
"It's… different this time," she whispered, eyes half-closed. "Not just cold or binding. They're alive. Watching. Feeling."
The shadows moved with fluid grace, like ribbons of darkness caressing and teasing, their touch both alien and strangely comforting.
Ciaran's hand found hers, warm and grounding against the coolness enveloping her wrists.
"Trust the shadows," he breathed. "Let them lead you where you've never dared to go."
Therrin nodded slowly, her heart pounding as she surrendered to the sensation — the delicate balance of control and surrender, restraint and freedom.
The night held them in its quiet embrace, the shadows dancing lightly across her skin, awakening senses long dormant.
The shadows obeyed without hesitation.
Therrin gasped as her feet left the floor, her bound arms still drawn behind her back. The tendrils of darkness cradled her like reverent hands, lifting her into the air with a gentleness that belied their power. Her nightgown fluttered softly as her body was suspended, weightless, her spine arched slightly with the way the shadows carried her.
She floated.
Air kissed her skin, and beneath it all—movement. The shadows slithered, some caressing the backs of her legs, others coiling around her thighs or grazing her waist with aching delicacy. Then, one of them began to shift.
A shape formed. A hand.
It curled gently into her hair, stroking it with eerie softness. Therrin barely had time to react before it gripped tighter — not painful, but assertive — tugging her head back so her throat stretched in exposed elegance toward the ceiling. A small sound escaped her lips, half-shocked, half-thrilled.
Another shadow hand followed. It didn't move at first, merely traced downward along her bared neck with slow intent until it rested right above her collarbone — a silent, claiming presence. Its stillness made her tremble.
Then more shadows rose beneath her, steadying her in a cradle of night. They adjusted her form midair until she was floating on her back, arms still behind her, hair cascading downward like ink spilled across the air.
Ciaran watched her with burning eyes, every angle of his face taut with hunger — but held in check by something deeper. Discipline. Devotion.
"You asked for this," he said, voice like velvet over stone. "Do you still want it?"
Therrin's lips parted, and she nodded, unable to say more.
He stepped closer, one hand running reverently from her ankle to her knee, then up the curve of her thigh. His touch was fire compared to the shadows — mortal warmth against immortal cool.
"You are so unafraid now," he whispered. "So beautifully willing."
She shivered again. Not from fear, but anticipation.
Ciaran leaned in, breath ghosting over her skin. One hand cupped her face, thumb brushing just beneath her lip as he looked into her eyes with something almost sacred burning behind his own.
Then he whispered, "Let me taste your surrender."
Therrin gasped as he licked her core. Gentle at first. Slow. Taunting. The hands of the shadows touch started getting rougher. Gripping her skin. Moving upward. They reached for her breasts. They traced them, kneaded them. While others grabbed her nipples and applied a forced squeeze and release, repeatedly.
Ciaran started getting rougher with his tantalizing touch. His tongue pressing deeper on that sensitive bud. And then, he sucked.
She let out a moan. Writhing under his hot mouth. He started swirling his tongue around the bud, picking up speed. She started to feel a pressure building in her stomach. Feeling juices drip out of her core. He laughed while sucking her bud again. She jolted her hips forward.
In this moment, she was ready for release. But just as that was about to happen, he thrust two fingers inside her. The intrusion was too much. The shadow hand on her throat started to grip her tighter. Squeezing to block the blood flow. And that was enough, she let out a raw scream, signaling her release. And then the shadow hand on her throat let go, causing her head to rush, and ending up black.
She still laid there, floating in the air, bound and unconscious. Floating on the clouds of her pleasure.