His inexperience is balanced by his fervor; each new touch from Claudius, the hand in his hair and the hand on his side, stirs fresh hunger in him. He didn't know these were things he could want. He didn't know that when he kissed Claudius' neck he would taste salt and the taste of it would rush from his tongue to his groin, that heat would pool between his legs so suddenly he'd think he truly was catching fire again.

He brings his hand again to the placket of Claudius' shirt, but this time he wants to get beneath it. He wants to know what Claudius looks like, beneath the silk, if their bodies are the same. He wants Claudius to look at him too, and to admire him? To think him enough, no matter who he is.

He is already on fire, he thinks, so what does it matter? He is burning, burning to be seen.