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The Sixth Spring

Page 29

by Archer Beau

I will touch you whenever you want.

As if it cost him nothing.

“Fuck,” Will said, voice cracking. Itori should have been the last person that Will would be comfortable doing this with, and yet–

“I have you,” Itori said. He pressed it to the shell of Will’s ear like a promise.

Will gulped a breath as his hips bucked up. Itori’s other arm wrapped tighter around him, steadying him, and so careful, careful, careful not to prick him with the claws.

His other hand kept moving on their cocks, creating a steady rhythm. None of it made any sense.

“Beautiful, beautiful,” Itori crooned in his ear. “Beautiful Willowtree.”

And that was it. Will fell apart, crying out as his orgasm crashed over him. His hand dug into Itori’s shoulder. Itori kept going, stroking him through it. Somewhere in the middle was a rumbling sound from Itori’s chest, and heat gushed up between them.

God, fuck.

His face was wet when the hand slowed and then stopped. Will couldn’t tell if it was his eyes or Itori’s hair leaving drops on his cheek. He turned his face into the scales, smearing the evidence away as he sucked in air.

“I have you,” Itori said again. His hand rubbed shapes on the small of Will’s back.

Stupidly, something fluttered in the bottom of Will’s belly.

Night settled back to silence around them. Will caught his breath and then forced himself to lean back, to look at Itori.

“Did it–” Will cleared his throat, mouth dry. “Did it work?”

“Yes,” Itori said. His pupils had blown out and his eyes were dark.

Itori extracted the hand from between them. It was covered in fluid, dripping. Will’s come was pale in the moonlight, but Itori’s was dark, and where the light caught it, it gleamed like an oil slick.

Itori brought the hand to his mouth, and started to lick it clean.

Will watched, struck still like last time. Itori’s pale tongue lapped at each finger and then in between, cleaning it up. He did it without shame, like it was natural.

Will wondered what his spill tasted like. Will had tried his own once, and now he wanted to know how much different Itori tasted from him.

It was a step too far to ask though.

Still, when Itori’s eyes turned back to him, something caught there. Itori tilted his head in that assessing way he had, and he pulled the hand away from his mouth and offered it to Will.

A dark sheen glistened on his palm.

Will couldn’t. Wouldn’t. That would be–

But it was like he’d forgotten himself and all the rules. Abandoned them at the water’s edge. He leaned forward, lips parting.

Itori brought his palm to Will’s mouth, like it cost him nothing. No judgement or criticism. Just an offering.

Will closed his eyes, couldn’t do it any other way. His tongue dipped out, feeling the scale texture and then–

Oranges.

It was so surprising that his head reared back and he opened his eyes. The taste was sweet and sharp and burning in his mouth.

Oranges.

“This was more than last time,” Itori said. “Can you taste it?”