It doesn't hurt, he thinks initially. Not like he would have thought. It's supposed to hurt. In fact, it's quite the opposite. It wraps around him, enfolding him completely.

Jacobi wraps a leg around him and presses a hand into his back, sinking into the feeling, mixing it with his own feelings of love and grief and sadness and anger. Warren's influence calms him, soothes him. The memories crash over him, quick and intense, and leave him raw in the aftermath.

He rides out the wash of pleasure as it fades, fingertips brushing across Warren's skin until he starts to feel himself healing.

He sighs, turning for him, reaching for him, burying his face in his chest.