Iustitia has not looked at Deliciae in some time.
It is...maddening.
When he was but a budding fruit, just barely ripe enough to fall from the demon tree he spawned from, Iustitia looked at him constantly, had him hidden on his desk so he could watch him dance on stubby little feet and poke his chubby flesh-filled cheeks.
Now, even when he leads Deliciae to the Sanctarium, he does not look back at him. Deliciae will not deprive him because of it. He's in heat—Deliciae has been smelling the scent on him even before he was aware—and some part of him craves to serve his old master, even if his old master does not acknowledge him.
Deliciae holds out until Iustitia crests what he imagines will be the first of many peaks, then chases his own satisfaction for a short while after. After Deliciae pulls out, Iustitia looks...confused.
He stares off into the middle distance for a moment, takes some breath, rolls his head, stretches out his hips, then finally he stares down at himself, awestruck, and says softly:
"I think you broke my heat."
And then Iustitia starts to look at Deliciae again. He combs his hair away from his face so he can study it more closely, he studies every muscle resting lithe yet powerful under his skin, he studies his half-hard cock.
Triticum arrives shortly after, completely unsurprised to see Deliciae there. Plant demons are not too picky about partners really, and that goes for the both of them. Iustitia says, without looking away from the mole he’s studying under Deliciae’s left eye—
"He broke my heat."
"Oh," Triticum says. "Is that a thing?"
"It's certainly possible."
A moment passes. Iustitia, still looking into Deliciae’s eyes, beckons Triticum forward with a crook of his finger. Triticum eagerly strips out of his pants.