lover, keeping the hold loose, as always. He loved to cuddle but knew that this was a big step for Alun and there could be a sudden backlash at any moment. There was no need to precipitate one by forgetting who he was with and how hard the road ahead of them was.
“Th-that was wonderful,” Alun said, his lips moving against Craig’s shoulder. “I feel guilty, though, being up here enjoying ourselves when others are working.”
Craig rubbed his chin on the top of Alun’s head. “Don’t. Not much is going on, and they can get along without us for a little while yet.”
“We need to shower again, though. We’re a bit sticky.”
“Hmm-m, showering together… That sounds like fun.”
Alun whacked him playfully and pulled away. “Oh, don’t. Too much pleasure and I won’t know what to do with myself.” He wrinkled his nose. “It’s funny, like.”
“What?”
“I know I need a quick wash but don’t feel the urge for a scouring the way I usually do. Sometimes I feel as if I can’t wash myself enough—always dirty, no matter how hot the water or how hard I scrub.”
Craig’s heart spasmed. He understood what that was about. “You’re, ah, not alone in that compulsion. It happens to a lot of victims of sexual assault.” He inwardly winced, hating that he’d reminded Alun of what he’d been through. On the other hand, not talking about this kind of violence or facing the effects head-on did no one any good.
“Really? That makes me feel better. I thought there was something wrong with me.”
Pulling him in for a quick kiss, Craig jumped to reassure him. “There’s nothing wrong with you.” Of course, the kiss lasted longer than he’d intended and had them huffing and hard again by the time they came up for air.
He rolled off the bed to his feet, taking Alun with him, then tugged him toward the door. “Let’s go another round, this time where the water is. It will save us a few steps.”
* * * *
By the time he and Craig managed to get dressed and return to the first floor, they found everyone was gathering outside. Alun didn’t hesitate to hold his lover’s hand and was still marveling at what they’d shared and how almost simple it had been to form this bond. It was hard to believe that his hideous scarring hadn’t repulsed the man. Craig had left no doubt, however, that those marks were of no consequence. He’d said as much and Alun found that he believed him. Trusting someone again was a bigger milestone for him than even the sex had been.
They followed the trail of warriors and boys to the lovely cliffside of Christos’ home. The sun was starting to set and the whole area was bathed in a muted glow of pinks and oranges. Harry was standing by himself, facing the others, while Alex and Quinn stood hand-in-hand facing him. The others were ranging themselves in a semi-circle as obvious spectators.
“What’s this all about?” Craig asked Willem.
It was Damien who answered, his arm around his lover’s waist. “They’re getting married before we leave for Syria. Harry got certified online and is officiating.”
Craig snorted. “Is that even legal here? I mean…both the online thing and the fact that they’re both men?”
Damien shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. It’s the symbolism of the thing. Alex has been after Quinn to make it official for a while now. Quinn finally said yes. We’ll throw a big party for them when we get back, and if they need to do this all over again? Awesome. It will be twice as fun.”
Alun was surprised by how moved he was at the idea. There had been nothing like marriage ceremonies, not even forced ones, back in the castle. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been to a wedding. This, plus the lovely time he’d spent with Craig on that brass bed, made him feel as happy as he could at the moment. Once Merlin was with him again, everything would be as close to perfect as possible. Alun truly believed, perhaps for the first time in his whole life, that he could find peace and joy. Already holding Craig’s hand, he leaned closer to him and was delighted when the man slipped his arm around his waist.
Harry cleared his throat. “Well, we all know why we are here—not Greece, but on this lovely patch of Christos’ land. We don’t have rings or music—or a five-tiered cake or even someone who can actually