He lay shivering in Kas’ arms, every nerve overstimulated, teased and sated past endurance. Kas took one more kiss from him, though his lips were parted with panting, then laid Myrddin back in the grass and only touched him gently, soothing, easing. His hands were warm on Myrddin’s back, his arms, Kas’ fingers warm on his cheek, his lips, across his collarbone. He made soft sounds, dozed for some hours, then startled awake and stretched slowly, slowly, before he lowered his arms around Kas’ waist again. “Still here, Kas? Or are you sleeping?” Kas bent to his cheek, nuzzled him and kissed him. “Not sleeping. Still here. You were sleeping.” There was humor in his voice again, but it was faint, though the black of his eyes was just as intense. Myrddin shifted, as uncomfortable under that stare as he had been with the idea of love, but Kas only kissed him once, then sat up and said it again. “More words now, love.” “Kas, you…you can’t call me that.” Kas frowned, and the ground beneath him was suddenly drained of all its energies.
