Page 71 of Prince of the Northwest Forest
My dick jumps at that statement, and he moves so that our cocks brush against each other. I shudder. “We can’t,” I groan.
Justice bites his lip and nods, then slowly moves back to his side of the tub, his face heated from more than the warm water.
We both have incredibly inconvenient erections. I want to tackle him and kiss him until we’re both satisfied.
“Do you want me to wash the rest of you?” he asks, holding up the soap.
I do. I shake my head.
“Do we just ignore our hard-ons and go to sleep?” he asks.
I am going to the Underworld for this statement. But I say it anyway: “Or we could just … take care of them.”
“Better idea,” Justice whispers. Looking me straight in the eyes, he grips his length and starts stroking. I can tell: He’s getting off on …me. Seeing me naked, having me here. Watching me. He wants to be with me. It’s almost too much to bear.
I take my own cock in hand and shuttle up and down once, slowly, lingering at the tip. And then I really let myself take in Justice in front of me. I don’t normally let myself just … look at him.
It’s erotic, to say the least, to have him giving himself pleasure while I do the same. While our eyes are locked on each other and our hands are mimicking each other. While our knees are brushing. While I want to kiss him almost more than I want to breathe.
“I’m not going to last,” I admit. “You’re too fucking sexy.”
“I could say the same about you.”
I watch his hand moving, his stomach going in and out and his chest rising and falling. I see his eyes go hazy with lust.
“Oh shit, oh shit,” he says, and he throws his head back and comes, the warm seed spilling into his hand. He’s trembling, and his cheeks are red, and I want to throw myself at him.
Instead, I feel the gathering of my own tension, my own orgasm, and with just a few more strokes, I’m letting go, too, shuddering and feeling the release. “Fuck,” I groan.
After a moment, Justice grins. “Now we need to take a shower.”
I nod. We get out, dripping onto the floor, drain the tub, and hop in the shower together, where we get fully clean, bumping into each other more than the ample space necessitates. I trail a hand down his side. He puts one under my chin. And then we both step back.
I want to burst into tears. The release was needed. And seeing him naked has made me feel complete.
But I now know all that I must give up: him. I have to give uphim.
Seeing my expression, Justice’s face turns sad. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.
I shake my head. “It’s not your fault.”
We dry off in silence and crawl into bed. Neither one of us bothers to put on clothing. The satin sheets are cool at first against my skin, but soon warm.
I wake up in the morning with him in my arms, and it doesn’t surprise me. I break my own rule by kissing the back of his head. I justify it by telling myself that he’s asleep, and it’s the way I’d kiss any subject I was affectionate with.
I don’t usually lie to myself about important things.
He rolls over, groans, and grabs his own cock.
And we both stroke off again. Looking at each other again.
Coming again.
No talking.
No touching in the bed.
We shower together again. I wash his hair, even though he doesn’t really need it, and he washes mine.
