““Hydros,” Achilles said. It was dun gray, and its flat head hung brokenly to the side. Its body still trembled a little, dying. Weakness sluiced through me. Chiron had made us memorize.
I shift, an infinitesimal movement, towards him. It is like the leap from a waterfall. I do not know, until then, what I am going to do. I lean forward and our lips land clumsily on each other. They are like the fat bodies of bees, soft and round and giddy with pollen. I can taste his mouth—hot and sweet with honey from dessert. My stomach trembles, and a warm drop of pleasure spreads beneath my skin. More.