Chapter 3
In spite of knowing they could be interrupted at any moment, in spite of fearing that this would be the only time they’d ever have, they didn’t rush. This shared interlude out of time was too precious to meet with haste. They had to savor every second of it, and they did.
Bard ran his hands slowly over as much of Gordon’s body as he could reach. He traced the scars of old wounds, mapped the hard muscle and harder bone beneath that, felt the coarse hair on Gordon’s chest against his questing palms. Beneath hair and skin and bone, Gordon’s heart beat a strong, steady rhythm that throbbed through Bard’s being, while his own seemed to alter to match it. Somehow none of it seemed strange or even new. How many times in dreams had he done just this? How had he known in those dreams ex
