Human emotions were something Ashton had been studying for a long time: reading from philosophers, watching it in films, seeing it happen around him, and even asking his fellow classmates what they thought. Valentin had told him that because emotions, one could know love. But the dragon, who's emotional kaleidoscope was almost always the bold colors, the ones that were clearly defined and easily identifiable for what they were, had difficulty seeing between the lines to detect those subtle moments of change when one emotion led to another.
He took what he saw and put it into what he knew. What he knew of Barclay was that he was complex beyond the dragon's comprehension. It was part of what Ashton admired about him, that he always seemed one step ahead and always had the answers to give. Rarely was his witch overly sentimental and when those moments were shared with Ashton, they were treasures that Ashton hoarded like he did his gold. And like his gold, he wanted more. The dragon's demands were realistically insatiable, but knowing what he knew of Barclay, what the witch whispered to him was an emotional feast.
Ashton had a rare smile and rose from his knees to catch Barclay in his arms, kissing him deeply as he held the boy flush against him, hands running up his back. "Say it again, Barclay," he requested, lifting Barclay and carrying him to the bed to carefully lay him down. He kissed his neck and collarbone, made a trail up his throat and tasted the delicate skin under Barclay's chin, nudging his head back.