I kissed Asterion's throat, sucked his skin, and reveled in the wave of pleasure. A dense weight of warm flesh was pressing between my thighs, against the cheeks of my ass, and it swelled and tightened. His balls, I realized, and he was growing close to his finish. I wanted to say sweet things to him, tease him, slide the silk away and guide him to my opening. But he was right. Marius was right, too. There were still pricks of fear, open scratches on my heart. And this gift was a bucket of clean crystalline cool water after lifetimes of a burning parched throat in the desert. It was enough for
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