The way he looks at her takes Cassandra’s breath away. It’s just... he's just... he makes her feel something she hasn’t felt since... James. John. Beautiful, and wanted, and... She reaches up to touch him, because she can’t resist, now that he’s shed his tunic, fingertips caressing him, mapping his skin.

He calls her beautiful and she blushes, pink colouring her pale skin, and she threads fingers in his hair as he kisses her, slowly and passionately, wanting him so deeply she aches with it. His hand caresses her skin, across her bare breasts, and she sighs into his mouth. Oh, Pelor.

“I want that, too,” she breathes. And she reaches between them, to undo the fastenings on her own trousers and begin to slip out of them.