There is blissfully and maddeningly no mention of the way Andrius touched me by the water. As if it didn't happen at all. He had dry goods to pair with the plants growing outside. We sit on the pillows beside the fireplace, my back leaning against his lower torso as we eat savory porridge full of roasted vegetables. I look up at him through my periphery, but he's watching the fire as he chews a mouthful.
"Can we talk about it?"
"No," he answers without looking at me.
"I think it would be fine," I grumble, though I'm uncertain.
"You've never even had sex. I have."
"So you know what you're doing?"
"You're relentless. You ought to be a salesperson."
"Can't you just," I glance at the innocuous hiding place between his folded legs, "not use all of it? We could stop wherever it gets to be too much and not go further."
The firelight makes it impossible for me to see if he's blushing when he sets down his bowl, but his expression is awkward and nervous.
"It um," he pauses and his eyes move around as if he's hunting down the words in his mind, "It's not that simple. Centaurs aren't like humans in that way."
I swallow the last little bite of porridge and stack my empty bowl in his for something to do. The odds are in my favor that I am more stubborn than Andrius. And I'm willing to wait for his explanation to go further. I turn around to drape myself over his lower torso and comb my fingers through his hair absentmindedly. He closes his eyes and shivers under my touch before he goes on.
"Centaurs, males in particular, go into a kind of trance when we fuck. Like a rut. It would still be me but... I don't know how in control or able to take direction I would be."
"Oh," my hands pause at the information, "Is it like that when you're with females of your own kind?"
He nods.
The unwelcome imagining of Andrius with another fills my mind. A beautiful creature like himself with silken hair, glistening eyes, and a body that can accept his. I hate the way it makes my eyes prickle and my stomach twist into knots. I lay limp across his back and nuzzle my face into his fur.
"I'm getting shaggy," he says broodingly.
"No, you're not," I laugh softly.
"I am," he peeks over his shoulder at me, "I'm much more sleek looking in the spring and summer."
"I believe you," I push my hands through his fur and leave them buried on his back, "But I like you this way."
.
How is he asleep?
Andrius stacked more wood in the fireplace to keep me warm tonight. And I'm pressed against him as I was previously. The blanket is tucked infuriatingly tight. Not tight enough. My hands rest on his upper chest, where I can feel the burning hot steel of his muscles. My legs twist and untwist in frustration. The desire to kiss the golden skin in front of me coats my lips in a prickling madness.
Without dinner or cleaning up to distract me, my mind swirls with overlapping memories of how he touched me by the water. His mouth everywhere and nowhere. My clit throbs relentlessly in lustful discontent.
"Stop writhing," Andrius grumbles quietly above me, "You're keeping me awake."
"I can't sleep," I blush, feeling too embarrassed to describe the feeling in more detail than that.
"Take care of yourself then."
"I can't do that. You're... right here."
"I don't mind. I took care of myself."
"What? When?"
"When we got back, and you were in the washroom brushing out your hair."
I squeak out an offended sound and twist my legs together again, committed to trying to sleep instead.
"Wait a second!" I pull away from him.
Andrius' eyes open and watch me as I hold myself up on my hands and look down at him, my eyes scanning over his entire body.
"Your hands can't reach that far. How did you take care of yourself?"
His lips curl in a sharp smile and he puts a finger to his lips in a secretive, shushing gesture.
"No. Seriously. Tell me."
"Nope," he tugs me and the blanket back to his chest.
"Do you," I gasp at the thought, "do you use the hooves?"
"No!" He exclaims in horror, "That sounds painful."
"So, how do you do it?"
"Sleep."
"No! You use... the pillows?"
"Do I?"
"Tell me," I push at his chest with my palms.
He shakes his head, some of his hair slips forward and tickles my face. Feeling bold, I lean forward and press my lips to his throat. His body goes so still I worry his heartbeat has paused.
"Take care of yourself," he repeats tensely, "Not me."
His hands slide down to my middle and turn me around, putting my back against his chest and looping his arms around to hold me tightly in place.
"Fine," I snap.
The boldness or lust don't seem to be enough to make me move. My hands stay at my chest, held above Andrius' arms. I pull in a slow, deep breath that does nothing to steady my pulse. He says he doesn't mind. And we've already explored each other. Or maybe he doesn't consider what we did exploratory at all. Worry swirls in me that all of this feels meaningful to me only because I am a virgin. But to him. To an experienced, virile male, maybe it is nothing. The need for distraction nudges me over the remaining mental edge.
Andrius relaxes behind me, I think with sleep, as I slide a hand down between his arms that are hugged around me. The silk slip has quickly gone from feeling like nudity, to feeling as stifling as a straitjacket. I wiggle my hips to help the fabric ride up and collect around my waist. At the first contact with my clit, my body jolts. My lips part around a caught breath. I start to slide my other hand over one breast, but Andrius beats me there. His rough hand envelopes one and squeezes the delicate flesh. I whimper and press my backside tighter against him.
"I thought you wanted to sleep," I murmur.
"I did," he whispers back as his hand continues to knead.
I suck in my lower lip and bite at it as fire blushes over my chest and cheeks. The hardness of Andrius' front hooves graze by the outside of my thighs as his forelegs extend slightly. I'm frozen as they bend and hook around my thighs, pulling back to open my legs further.
"Keep going," he urges me, his breath hot against my hair.
I pull my hand back enough to slip it under the thin fabric of my underwear. Even more hesitantly, I rest my other hand on Andrius and drag it along the hard strength of his forearm. I yelp and flinch at the direct contact with my delicate, burning pearl. Andrius' arms tighten, holding me as flush with his body as he can. I breathe deep and hold the sweet, crisp smell of him inside me. The circular, pressing motion of my fingertips makes me pant like a wild animal as pressure builds in my core. I push back harder against the centaur holding me tight.