He swings me easily to my feet, and I'm once again reminded of the amazing strength contained in his compact frame. Not that I ever truly forget about it, but at some moments it's more obvious than others.

Such as today's battle. The only reason he took a wound was that, for that crucial moment, a Sugoumin was more agile than he was strong. It's a balance he hasn't yet perfected, but despite his age he's already a powerful fighter and when the experience of years tempers his raw strength, he'll be a fighter unlike any seen before.

Standing, the cold's even worse, and I tip against Mabe with a shudder. We're nearly the same height, and his earlobe's in easy nibbling range.

"Let's go to bed," I purr against his cheek, scraping the line of his jaw with my teeth - gentle only for the moment.

I don't want to talk about the emotion that drove me up here, or the physiology that is forcing my retreat. I don't want to talk at all, because the only time we fight with each other, not at each other, is on the battlefield, or between the sheets.

Or on the kitchen table, to be fair, but tonight I don't want to compete with the galley for his attention, or affection. I just want him.