Alex woke to warmth.
Not the searing heat of the bond, not the burning fever of desperate joining—just warmth. Steady, surrounding, alive. He was curled on his side, pressed against something solid and breathing, a heavy arm draped over his waist, a nose buried in his hair.
For one blissful moment, he didn't remember.
Then his body screamed.
Every muscle ached. His thighs burned. His hips felt like he'd run a marathon in the wrong direction. And there was a distinct, uncomfortable wetness between his legs that made him flush despite being unconscious two seconds ago.
Right. The cave. Lucas. The—
"Oh gods," Alex croaked.
The arm around him tightened. A rumble of sound—Lucas's version of a sleepy question—vibrated against his back.
"Mmm?"
Alex tried to move and immediately regretted it. His everything hurt. "I need—water. And to never move again. In that order."
