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He stroked his erect penis first with just his cold fingertips, tracing his way up from the base on the topside of the shaft, circling the rim of his helmet, and then down the underside, to his balls. But it was too painful in the icy night air to finger those – he didn’t want them to disappear altogether!

He was thinking of her again. He loved how she smiled softly at him when they saw each other, how she waited for him to stutter out what he was trying to say when he was sent on errands to the kitchens. She was the only one who seemed neither irritated nor amused by his awkward, twitching speech. He loved how her eyes roamed over his face, betraying what he hoped were intimate thoughts as she looked down and up his gangling seventeen year old frame. He feared he would never be what he considered a grown, filled-out man, for all he was strong and wiry. But that did not seem to matter in the way she had always looked at him. At one year his junior, her body had yet to fill out too.

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