They never used to read in bed. Bed was for simple spoken words, for want you and more and love. Sex and sleep, communion of bodies.
But now Giles and Oz both keep books on the nightstand. They read, and share the best bits out loud, and talk. Their bed is full of words, sentences, stories; it's as full of ideas as of kisses. Words drape them warm as blankets, join them closer than bodies can reach.
Communion in two kinds, bread and wine, flesh and spirit. Words aren't the body's enemy.
And books, Giles knows, are among love's instruments.