I swallowed thickly, biting my lip as I tentatively curled my fingers around my shaft, the embarrassment tinging my skin a deeper shade of pink. There was no finesse to my movements, not when his gaze was boring into me, making my heart pick up speed and my brain blank out. How the fuck did I used to touch myself? I rarely needed to anymore, not when I had a mate who was always ready and eager to give me earth-shattering orgasms—a program he was apparently abandoning tonight—so I just did what seemed natural. I fisted my dick with the goal of getting off, quick and sloppy, heedless of the water sloshing against the walls of the tub and splashing my chest.

I straightened my legs out, my toes curling, hoping the tautness of my muscles would spur on the usual coil of heat. There was a dull hum of arousal building, and I clung to it, but it wouldn’t rise any higher. It felt good, but not the same kind of good that would leave me boneless and sated. Not the kind of good Cair could give me. It was scratching an itch at best, a release for the sake of it, instead of for pure pleasure. It wasn’t what I needed, and I didn’t know how to⁠—

“Slower,” my mate encouraged after a moment. With a relieved sigh, I obeyed, relaxing into a more leisurely pace, my grip loosening. “That’s it, sweetheart. Swipe your thumb over the ridge under the tip. I like how it makes you shudder.”

I blindly followed his instruction, and before I could even process the faint zing of sensation, my nerves were acting of their own accord.

He chuckled darkly.

“There is no part of you that I am not familiar with, sweet boy. I’ve memorized every single reaction. I know exactly where to touch and caress to make your body sing for me. For instance, there’s a spot behind your ear that draws out such a delicious little keen when I flick it with my tongue.” He demonstrated, proving himself correct when my lips parted and a near-silent shrill tumbled into the humid air. “Or if I graze my fingers over the apex of your thigh, your cock twitches and drips.”

It was feather-light, the way he brushed the crease at the top of my leg. And it was instantly obvious how my length swelled obediently in my hand, a dribble of precum trickling from the slit.

“Your breath will hitch as I trace the cords in your neck with my fangs.” Those sharp points swept along my sensitive flesh, and on cue, my next exhale caught in my lungs. “And if I draw slow circles around your nipple, your back arches, chasing more of that ticklish sensation.”