“I meant… Are you sore?” He rolls his eyes, but I don’t miss the slight flush on his cheeks. “I’m fine. I’m sitting, aren’t I?” A low creaky chuckle escapes me at that. “It’s a good hurt, Will,” he assures me quietly. Something in his voice has me sobering. He smiles, and it’s a gentle smile, almost wistful. “Really good.” Jesus.
