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Nate laughed so loudly it startled Leo for a moment. Then the insolent bastard speared a third marshmallow, plunged it straight into the flames, and let it blacken while looking at Leo the entire time.

“You’re doing that on purpose now,” Leo accused.

“I am,” Nate admitted, still looking way too happy. “C’mon.” He blew the flame out. And then, instead of eating it, he leaned across and held the smoking ruin under Leo’s nose. “Smell that and tell me it’s not better this way.”

Leo prepared to say something about barbarism, except, Nate was not entirely wrong.

That was a good smell.

Burnt sugar, dark and sweet, with the woodsmoke folded in underneath — more intense than the wine or even the herbs. It smelled entirely, offensively delicious.

“Well?” Nate asked.

“Smell isn’t everything,” Leo said.

Nate laughed again. It was a nice sound. So nice, in fact, that Leo forgave him for being an idiot and sacrificing another marshmallow to the flame.

This next one put up a fight coming off the skewer. It stretched, gave, and left half of itself behind on the stick. Nate ended up with sugar strings across his fingers.

He licked them clean, one finger and then the next, his attention on the fire, entirely unaware of himself.

Leo watched.

There was something about the image of Nate’s lips enveloping skin. Something…

Nate looked up, meeting his gaze. “Leo,” he said.

Could ghosts have a dry mouth? Leo’s mouth felt dry as Nate’s eyes burned into him.

The fire crackled, and aside from that, the night had grown quiet between them. Then Nate reached down beside his chair.

He came up with a thermos—and when he unscrewed the top to open it, steam came up into the cool air.

Another smell hit Leo.

Bitter. Green. Strong.

Nate poured the tea into a cup. “I measured and steeped it the way you’re supposed to. Mom would be proud.” He considered that. “Mom can never know.”

The cup sat there steaming between them.

“That’s more tea than you put into your last cup, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“What do you need it for?”

Nate thought for a moment, firelight reflecting in his eyes. “I want to do more than kiss you,” he said eventually. “On a light dose, I can touch you and kiss you, but it takes a lot of focus. If we want more… this will let us do that.”

Leo didn’t know what to say.

He did want it. He wanted everything from Nate—with Nate. To know the warmth of another body, to lose himself in it—he would give anything for that.

But what would Nate have to give?

“What will it cost you?” he asked.

Nate didn’t answer right away—which let Leo know that he was right to question the consequences of taking what he wanted.