Kintla Flatlands [m] so please don't take me for no fool

Another gasp escapes him at the movement, and he tenses briefly before melting into it. He hadn't realized it could be like this; all wild flames and flying sparks, lava racing through his veins and pooling in his belly, burning in so many places at once he swears he's on fire. It's overwhelming for the boy forged of ice and stone, tempered by cold winter winds. Yet for once he does not wilt under the heat; he thrives in it. His shyness fades, and with it the relative silence he'd maintained at first. The feeling builds, the wave of rippling heat rising until it crests and breaks into an explosion of color and light, and he finds Kratos's name on his lips again. And then the world seems to blur for a few moments, and he knows only their embrace.