Gods, she loves how his hands move across her body, her naked, needy skin, how he plays her secret strings, makes them vibrate, resonate and hum with pleasure. A magical symphony of love and lust, he the talented artist and she both instrument and inspiration. When they lie still afterwards, snuggled up against each other, breathless and sweaty and warm to the core, she kisses those hands. They are slightly callused from hours and hours of playing the lute. His fingers still show the faint marks of the fire.
He sighs contentedly, his pain gone, kissed away by their love.