Page 13 of The Sixth Spring

Will wasn’t breathing, wasn’t thinking. The touch was warm and smooth, even with his scales. Fingers traced his throat and collarbone.

And stopped just outside of Will’s nipple.

Should he stop him–?

The words stuck in his throat. No one had ever touched Will and–and he knew he shouldn’t let this happen, shouldn’t give in to the trench-deep ache that lived in his chest. But no one ever touched him. They’d gone out of their way to avoid him, actually. And Will–he just wanted–

A thumb rolled over the bud of his nipple, and Will gasped at the sudden ricochet of sensation. It was intense. He’d touched himself there before in the course of showering, but it had never felt like that.

Why…?

The creature paused to assess. Will had no idea what he looked like, but he wasn’t saying no, wasn’t pulling away.

The creature kept going. Fingers traced around the edge of his nipple and to the tip. Will’s breathing quickened, his chest expanding as arousal pooled inside him. He was holding back sounds that wanted to escape, but barely.

It felt good. Too good.

The creature made one of those low, hissing sounds again.

Talking?

Will forced his eyes open. The creature’s chest was before him, bare. There were no nipples, because of course he didn’t have any. Will wasn’t sure what he was, but he was fairly certain he wasn’t a mammal.

Another hiss, softer. A touch at his chest again.

“Just–just sensitive,” Will said, breathily.

The creature stared back at him, gaze heavy. Was he… asking to continue?

That would be insane. That was Will’s own wish fulfillment. It was his own sick, greedy impulses filling the air between them.

Will’s head bobbed, humiliation and hope and terror mixing together. He shouldn’t be doing this. He should be stopping, leaving.

Fingers wandered over to his other nipple. Will had to bite his lip not to make a sound. His cock stirred beneath the wet fabric of his jeans.

Oh god.

There was a pinch at this nipple, just the smallest amount of pressure.

And Will moaned.

It fell out, unbidden. He froze when he realized what he’d done. He wanted to hide his face, but was too afraid to.

But the creature–the person?–didn’t look angry. He tilted his head again, and a few strands of the weedy hair slipped over his shoulder. In the moonlight he was beautiful, all scaled skin and long, draping hair. He looked like some kind of ancient water god.

The fingers squeezed again, pinching Will’s nipple.

Will moaned. It went straight down through him, and he was powerless against it, swept away.

The hand moved away from his nipples after a few more seconds, and Will couldn’t decide if he was relieved or disappointed. This was bad and wrong and fucked up. He was all those horrible, whispered things the guys at school said about him. There was something wrong with him. He was bad and evil and–

The hand kept going, down, down, down. It touched at his waistband, plucking at the fabric in question.

Wondering why Will was wearing clothes? Or–?

No. Not that. It wasn’t–

God, he was so fucked up.