On the willows there, we hung up our lyres

Love gathers in him like a physical presence, as if love had a weight and texture to it that could fill the cavity of his lungs and ribs, and he feels the water running down his back from his hair, the throbbing pain of the light in his eye, the scrape of Claudius' shirt buttons against his chest, and those excruciating sensations are eclipsed by the sensation of love. His arms slide around Claudius' neck instead and he goes on kissing him. He kisses him the way he's been afraid to -- afraid to let himself be hungry, afraid to let himself want, afraid to take something that would be an ecstasy greater than God. He kisses open Claudius' mouth. He holds him so close that he thinks he can feel their hearts drumming against one another.