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He was deliciously hot and tight as my cock sank deeper into his arse, no prompting required to tell him how fucking good it was. We built up the pace, perfecting a rhythm where I bucked up and he bore down without my cock ever slipping out of his arse. My orgasm built steadily until the effort of prolonging it had my muscles trembling.

August had never looked sexier than he did riding my cock. Chest flushed and glistening with sweat, throat bared, the muscles of his thighs contracting and relaxing as he rose and fell.

“I love you.” The words had been inevitable, bound to slip out eventually. Maybe they were what I’d been trying to say all along during those last few days of frozen politeness.

August stilled and then threw his head back and laughed. “If you love me, make me come.”

“I can do that.”

I was as good as my word, one hand aiding with balance while the other wrapped around August’s cock, palm moist with lube. Time passed in something of a frozen tableau as we concentrated on achieving that second orgasm. The slip. The slide. The thrust. All accompanied by gasps and grunts that rose in a crescendo.

August was loud when he came, his lack of restraint a testament both to the relative safety of our surroundings, and to the distance from his grandmother. I followed soon after, laughter spilling between us with the intensity of our second orgasms as August rolled off me.

He propped himself up on one elbow, the day warm enough we could lie there without worrying about covering ourselves. “So you love me?” August eventually said.

“Apparently so.”

“Hmm…”

I finally gave in to the inevitability of turning my head to look at him. Sweaty suited him, as did post-orgasm lassitude. He had both in spades. “Is ‘hmm’ all you’ve got to say about it?”

“Have you ever told anyone you loved them before?”

“No,” I answered honestly. “You’re the first.”

“When did you decide you loved me?”

“When you weren’t there. When you were at the castle. I might not have admitted it to myself until today, but that was the moment, if I’m honest.”

August laughed. When I didn’t join in, he shot me an amused look. “Oh, come on. You just told me you love me more when I’m not around.”

“You’re twisting it. I didn’t mean it like that.”

He shuffled closer, his elbow touching my shoulder. “You have questions. I can see it on your face.”

I both hated and loved that he could read me so easily. “Have you ever told anyone you loved them?”

“Lots of times.”

I turned onto my side so we were facing each other. “And how many times did you mean it?”

“Taking family out of the equation, none.” He studied me for a moment. “I love you, if that’s what you’re waiting to hear.”

Breathing became difficult enough that I had to remind myself how to do it. “Truth or lie?”

“Truth. All day long.”

“You couldn’t have said that before.”

He winked. “I didn’t think I needed to. I took you home to meet my grandmother. I stormed a castle for you.”

“I don’t remember the storming part.” I was smiling so much that if I kept it up, my cheeks would ache. I yanked him toward me, pulling his head onto my chest. “Come here. I need you closer.”

August didn’t argue.

We didn’t go anywhere that day. Or the next. We survived on blackberries and cum, and cum that eventually tasted of blackberries.

Epilogue