Claudius feels his skin flush, with the same fever-heat Galahad had a moment ago. He's glad of everything Galahad gives him, glad of every kiss no matter how it ends. Sometimes simply sliding his fingers together with Galahad fills him with a wordless sense of intimacy. And sometimes desire seizes him sharply, like it seizes him now, heart catching in his throat. "I love thee," he whispers, when his voice returns. "Thou art the treasure of my soul."