The Mage's Heart
After a moment, he lifted from me and dug into my bag, retrieving the cloth Anre had used to wrap the scones and fruit, and used it to wipe his seed from us both.
“Into bed,” he said quietly, and used his magic to douse the blue flame of the torch plunging the room into darkness. I slid between the covers and felt him join me, drawing me against him so that I lay, my head upon his bicep, and my hand on his chest. He pressed his lips to the crown of my head. I could feel his heart beneath the palm of my hand, its beat still fast from his release.
“When I sang to the ogre,” I said slowly, “it did not affect you.”
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