Page 20 of The Art of Professing Love

He chuckled. “I thought so. Now, shall we get to what I came here for?” He took my hand gently in his and pressed it against the stiff bulge in his pants.

I smiled. “Yes, let’s. I don’t want to wait a second longer.”

We fell back onto the couch together and I climbed on top of Irving, straddling his lap. I began unbuttoning his cardigan while he worked on my silky robe. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other. It was exactly how I imagined it would be; it was perfection.

“Oh, Sylvan,” Irving moaned into my lips, “I’m absolutely fascinated by you.”

I opened my mouth to respond when a cascade of thunder rolled overhead. My eyes flew open.

“The laundry! I left it outside on the line.”

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Irving said, arms locked around my waist to keep me from getting up.

“No, it won’t. Those are the only bedsheets I own and it’s going to–“A clattering of raindrops began hitting the roof as the storm outside broke loose. “Rain,” I finished defeatedly.

“Well, then, what are we waiting for?” Irving pushed me off his lap and got up, taking long strides to the door. “Let’s get out there and bring those sheets in before they’re fully soaked again.”

16

IRVING

My visits with Sylvan were never boring, I could say that much with full confidence. As we ran outside into the pouring rain to pull his sheets off the line, I dared to look up at the sky. It was barely mid-afternoon, but it could have been the middle of the night for how dark it was. Slate-gray, angry clouds rolled overhead and thunder rumbled, a bolt of lightning cracking and lighting up the forest for a brief moment as we ran back into the house.

We made it to the cover of the porch just as another bolt struck down somewhere nearby. Sylvan opened the door and gestured for me to get back inside, my arms still loaded down with the drenched bedsheets.

As soon as we were in, we dropped the sheets on the floor in a soaking wet pile and collapsed on top of them, taking in the sheer absurdity of the entire situation.

“They’re wetter than when I washed them,” Sylvan laughed.

“Consider it a second wash, then.” I shrugged and he punched me in the arm playfully.

“But now we won’t have anywhere to sleep,” he whined.

“I wasn’t planning on sleeping tonight, were you?”

Sylvan’s eyebrow arched. “No, I guess not. We’ve got to get out of these clothes before we do anything else, though. We’re soaked to the bone and you’re only human – you might catch a chill.”

I shivered, the wet fabric clinging to my skin like a leech. My new glasses lenses were foggy and damp from the rain, so I took them off and tried to wipe them on my sopping-wet cardigan. My efforts were futile, so I set them down on the coffee table and looked up at the reddish-pink blob that was Sylvan. “I’m afraid you’re right. Do you mind if I use your shower?”

Sylvan shook his head. “Of course not – but only if I can get in too.”

I wasn’t about to protest. I’d waited so long to get Sylvan back in my arms, another ten minutes would have been torture.

There was hardly enough room for both of us in the cabin’s tiny bathroom, let alone the shower, but Sylvan stepped in first and I slipped in behind him, turning on the hot, steamy water and letting it wash over my cold, tired body.

I wrapped my arms around Sylvan’s waist, drawing him in even closer if that was possible. He let out a low, soft moan and I took a deep breath. The chokehold this fae had over me was inescapable, and he didn’t have the slightest idea just how deeply I was falling for him.

“I want you to fuck me,” he breathed.

I pressed my chin against his neck, kissing along his jawline. “What about –“

He grabbed something off the shelf in the shower and pressed it into my hand. I didn’t have to see the bottle I was holding to know that it answered my question. I nuzzled my face deeper into him, grinding against his back. Using my thumb, I popped open the bottle cap and squeezed a dollop of the lubricant onto my fingers. Sylvan pulled away from my arms, bracing himself against the shower wall.

The warm droplets of water cascaded down around us, steam rising far above us and billowing into the rest of the bathroom. It seeped under the bathroom door, no doubt filling the entire cabin with its hot, humid presence.

Sylvan’s ass was tight and he groaned a little as I slid myself in, first only a few inches, then the rest of the way. I shouldn’t have hurried things along as I did, but I already knew I wasn’t going to last long, and I wanted to make the most of the short time we had in here together.

“Faster,” Sylvan told me breathlessly, his hands pressing into the wall hard enough to break through them if they weren’t made of strong, sturdy planks.

---