Galahad wants nothing more than to look at his tattoo -- to stand in front of a mirror and stare at it for as long as he can, this symbol of his joining with Claudius marked permanently on his skin. He wants to touch it, to run his fingers over it. He wants to know how it feels. He wants Claudius to feel it. He wants Claudius to draw his manicured nails along the coils of the dragon; the thought makes his mouth flood with saliva, and he can't even find it in him to be embarrassed by that, even as he has to swallow it down.
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Galahad wants nothing more than to look at his tattoo -- to stand in front of a mirror and stare at it for as long as he can, this symbol of his joining with Claudius marked permanently on his skin. He wants to touch it, to run his fingers over it. He wants to know how it feels. He wants Claudius to feel it. He wants Claudius to draw his manicured nails along the coils of the dragon; the thought makes his mouth flood with saliva, and he can't even find it in him to be embarrassed by that, even as he has to swallow it down.