42 The Night Is Still Young

We stayed in that embrace for a long while, panting into each other's shoulders. His hands idly traced along my back, and mine did the same, lacing through his hair from time to time and twirling the silky strands around my fingers. I wished I could wrap myself around him just like that.

"Qing-er," he spoke first when our breaths steadied at length, "if you keep this up every day, you'll drain my life before my time is due."

I loosened my hold on him just enough for a soft kiss. "You still have hundreds of years ahead," I said. "I'll have to work harder than this to drain all of it."

He laughed. Keeping me in his arms, he rolled onto his back carefully and rested my head against his shoulder, gently stroking my cheek. Our bodies were sticky from sweat, but neither of us mentioned a bath or cleansing. It was the taste and smell of our love, and I wasn't ready to let go of it yet.