( hao says it incredulously, kind of laughing because it seems so fucking dumb, squeezing conditioner into a bowl of faint pink powder before setting it down on the counter and flopping down onto the closed lid of the toilet. honestly, it would probably be quicker and easier to just, like, mix it up himself and run it through his hair and be done with it — considering he's dyed his hair a billion times before, but sitting there with an ultra plush towel pulled tightly around his shoulders, fingers curled tightly to keep it closed at his neck, and looking up at koby putting on a pair of gloves a little too big for his hands, it's kinda ...
something. nice, he guesses. hao doesn't really do nice unless he wants something out of it, but koby wants to do something nice for him ... for some reason? because hao nutted in him? because he just feels like doing something nice? there's a prickly kind of feeling trickling up his chest and it's annoying. so sure, whatever, he'll leave his fate in the hands of a hair dye virgin. )
[Koby is scrunching his fingers, trying to get used to the feeling of the gloves -- a texture he isn't used to, not leather or cloth, but some sort of clingy plastic -- but he pauses long enough to give Hao a flat look where he's perched on the toilet.] I dyed half my rug pink as an experiment. Yes, I'm sure.
[More or less -- fur isn't the same as hair, and the roots along the part of Hao's hair are darker than the creamy, champagne-hued rug in front of the fireplace in his room. Still, the result had been vivid, a bright, florescent, clearly artificial shade of pink that smelled faintly of lemons, so it stands to reason that it'll mellow itself out, right? Besides, if Hao keeps moping around the library, Koby's going to lose his mind.
Plus it's...a nice thing to do. Koby has his books, his quest for knowledge to keep him occupied, like Zoro has his training and Nami her maps and Sanji his cooking and Luffy the care and keeping of all of them. Hao is more of a mystery, his desires and motivations tangled up in the sharp-toothed grin that sends phantom throbs of stinging, giddy pleasurepain from that place on Koby's neck every time he sees it. He deflects, he insults, he pushes and teases, and the one thing he's expressed a desire for is hair dye, of all things.
So. Koby's finding a way. Because nobody deserves to have the one thing they ask for denied. He grabs the toothbrush he'd found packaged beneath the sink, clean and unused, the closest thing he could find to the brushes in the eight or so tutorials he'd found online, and starts mixing the conditioner with the several packets of pink powder] It's not going to kill you, you don't need to be dramatic. Hold that towel closed, though.
Yeah, yeah, okay, mom, ( hao teases through a laugh, but either way, he complies, fingers tightening into the towel where it meets itself at the base of his neck. koby definitely doesn't scare hao, but it's probably a good idea to listen to the person with his hair's very life in his hands.
for once, hao doesn't have much to say — he only watches as koby dutifully mixes the jello powder into the conditioner with the toothbrush, eyebrows raising as he sees the color it's starting to take. it's. really not that bad, all things considered. smelling like lemons and sugar is probably not the worst thing in the world, either — and is probably something some of the smellier people at the gym could take note of. )
If this turns out good, I think next time I'm gonna try to steal some bleach from the maids who work in the laundry room. Then I won't have to deal with my roots getting worse.
( it's the same thing, right? )
And anyway, I don't think I'm being dramatic. You'd be pretty pissed off if you woke up and your hair was, like, black or something, wouldn't you?
[Koby makes a quiet, disgruntled sound at the mention of the bleach, stirring the powder a couple more times to make sure it isn’t grainy.] I don’t think that’s the same sort of bleach at all. You could end up bald, using that on your head. [Fuss, fuss, fuss.]
Here, lean like – [He steps forward, one hand reaching to tip Hao’s chin upwards, then tilt his head to one side so the first of the vividly-hued goo can be brushed onto his hair, slowly, from roots to ends. Multiple grainy videos had taught him that much, and the rest seems self-explanatory – put the stuff on, cover with the (dumb) plastic shower cap, let it sit for a while, rinse. Should be foolproof.] At least if this stuff doesn’t work, you’ll only have to deal with smelling like a dessert for a while.
[There’s a little huff of amusement, as Koby works his way along the roots of Hao’s hair, meticulously, gently, so focused he doesn’t think about how close they are, about how he’s leaning in until he’s resting lightly against the other young man’s shoulder.] I wouldn’t really mind. It’d be easier to blend in, I think. Less noticeable, especially around here.
( hao wrinkles his nose at koby because, like, bleach is bleach, isn't it? you can fry off your hair with the bleach he uses back at home (and, thankfully, has not suffered any casualties minus his hair being dry as fuck because he's not a dumbass). koby's supposed to be the noob at all of this, so what the hell does he know?
any kind of retort is bitten back, however, because what's more important right now is letting koby tip his head back and to the side and get to work. hao watches from the corner of his eye as the other boy finishes prepping the dye and starts painting the dye on — and the expression on his face, so completely serious about his task, is enough to make a grin slowly spread across his cheeks, maybe possibly definitely endeared as fuck, entirely unbothered by the proximity as koby leans against his shoulder, very diligently studies his own work. )
You say that like standing out's a bad thing, ( hao laughs, sneaking a hand from its place holding the towel tightly around his neck to poke koby in the side instead. ) If you blended in then I never would've found you at the club and we wouldn't be here right now. Sad.
[Koby wrinkles his nose right back, and would do more, but he's diligently working his way along Hao's hairline right now, and that takes absolute priority. He doesn't want to do a bad job, not with this being the first (only?) thing the other boy's expressed a strong desire for. Well -- first G-Rated thing, at least. So he's meticulous, focused on the roots first, trying to get an even layer all the way down so there aren't any spots.
The poke to his side gets a sharp, squeaky sound, though, startling Koby enough that he instinctively jabs his pointy elbow down into Hao's shoulder.] Don't -- do that, do you want to end up patchy?
[Huff, huff, scowling downward with his pink-smeared hands. The mention of the club, though, softens Koby's expression minutely, has his scrunched shoulders relaxing a bit.] Right. Because I was so stunning, you couldn't look away. [There's a flat note in his voice, clear sarcasm dripping from every word.]
( the sound that koby makes is so absurdly cute that hao can barely contain what may as well be a delighted giggle, grinning as he makes his valiant effort to stay still — even if the sharp pain of a bony elbow to the shoulder makes him start all over again.
koby might really be the easiest person hao's ever had the (mis)fortune of spending time with; he lets hao make his silly little remarks, absorbs all of his teasing like a sponge and lets it manifest in stammered words and blushing cheeks and occasionally, he gives it back in tiny little bites. he's surprised it doesn't piss him off. maybe it's the whole earnest and kind thing koby's got going on, in spite of literally everything else hao throws at him.
presently, it's an eye roll, tipping his chin up so he can really give koby A Look, practically squinting at him. ) Listen, the whole self-deprecating thing is sooo old. ( and he looks straight ahead again, keeping still and behaving himself because no, he doesn't want it to turn out patchy. )
It’s not self-deprecating. [Said very huffily as Koby tugs a little harder than strictly necessary at the next hank of dark-rooted hair, smearing more of the pinkish goo onto it.] It’s self-awareness. It was dark, there was a lot of alcohol involved, I know that. I don’t expect–
[A lull in his words, the sounds catching in his throat for a moment, mouth open for an embarrassing pause before Koby mindfully shuts it, crossing over to Hao’s other side to start slathering more dye onto that half of his head. When he speaks again, it’s quiet, resigned, seemingly unconcerned, though there’s a vivid flush spreading from the tips of his ears down his neck.] I don’t expect anything, from you. [From anyone. He wouldn’t know how to ask for it if he did, anyway.
Still, it makes him think of – something he wants to add, wants to say, tongue flicking over his lower lip as he works. So:] You were kind when it mattered, and I’m grateful for that. I’d never – you know. Done that. Before. [Koby lets it linger for a moment, turning even redder.] So. Thank you. For that. For being [gentle, caring, careful, in the club, if nowhere else] that way. I realize I didn’t thank you, before.
Uh huh, sure — ( hao starts to protest, but the yank of his hair, blessedly, shuts him up — if only because he kinda likes it. because of course he does.
honestly, he has no idea where the hell koby is going with all this, a sudden seriousness falling over him like he's afraid he'll say the wrong thing. the dichotomy between the kobies in his head — the bratty koby in the club, drunk and giggly and clingy, going pliant underneath hao's touch, and the vaguely nervous, unsure koby that's here right now, purposeful with the way he applies the makeshift dye to hao's hair, cheeks flushing nearly maybe even more pink than his hair — is kind of funny. and funnier even still is koby — thanking him? )
You were a virgin? ( forgive him for sounding surprised. hao's grin makes its grand reappearance, creeping slowly across his cheeks, perhaps sinister if it weren't so god damn genuine. there's a silly kind of pride in this revelation, warm and tingly and glowing in his chest — even though virginity is a construct, blah blah fucking blah, whatever — because it means that koby's forever, like, tied to hao. intrinsically, if hao knew such a big word. you never forget your first, and all that. ) Wow. I've never taken someone's virginity before. And I've definitely never been thanked for fucking someone. ( he leans back a little, absolutely beaming up at koby. )
[If Koby were a little less flustered, he'd note the way Hao is immediately quieted by the hair pulling, would file that away to use later, in some other circumstance. But he's focused on applying the dye, gloved hands smeared with pink, held out of the way carefully whenever he reloads the goo onto the brush.]
I was. Is that so shocking? [A little huffy, but not quite as embarrassed as he might've been the night of. Koby's still a bundle of anxious nerves, most of the time, but he's definitely come (a lot) a long way since that first night in Otherworld. Much of it's hazy, the people he encountered, the heated encounters with friends of the Balfours, but the warmth of Hao's body against his, the sharpness of teeth at the place his neck and shoulder meet (gone now, though sometimes Koby feels a phantom ache, like there's still a bruise in the shape of Hao's mouth) -- that's very, very vivid. He remembers how he'd clung to the other boy, how he'd teared up at the end, how Hao had been laughing and teasing, but not cruel.
It matters, that he hadn't been cruel. That Koby's first time was something bright and dizzying and exciting, instead of overwhelming or scary. So even when he's being an enormous pain in the ass, Koby doesn't snap back, doesn't do much else except roll his eyes and start wrapping the dye-smeared ends of Hao's hair in aluminum foil.]
Well, there's a first time for everything, including being thanked, I guess. It made all the times after less intimidating. [There's a smug note in Koby's voice, in the curl of his pouty mouth, one hand tugging Hao's hair to prompt him to look up, back.] Hold still. [Stay put and think about how often Koby's getting railed.]
Kinda, ( hao can't help but answer to a question that was probably meant to be rhetorical. because yeah, it is kinda surprising that koby was a virgin, what with how quickly things escalated like a head-on collision in the middle of a freeway — but he guesses it was probably just the drinks. or, better yet, it's because hao is that unbearably attractive and alluring.
definitely that one.
all the times after. yeah, okay. cue an eyeroll in return as hao tips his chin back, watching koby work from beneath his lashes. all the times after. apparently things weren't so sparkly and magical and special between them after all. — not that hao gives a shit. koby can fuck other people, just like hao does. well, could. would. doesn't, presently. but whatever.
an idea creeps into his silly little mind, expression softening and practically batting his eyelashes up at koby, declaring before he can even dare think about changing his mind due to some ... uncertainty: )
Yeah, well. You're gonna let me give you head after we're done here, right?
Why? [Koby says it on a bit of a snort, going over the tips of Hao’s hair one last time with the brush, making sure it’s fully saturated, entirely focused on his task. His teeth press into his lower lip, half because of the job and half because – well, because he’s remembering. Because as hazy and foggy as Otherworld had been, he can still picture every movement, every touch, every needy, desperate sound he’d made, pressed up against a wall he can still feel at his back, if he focuses hard.
The empty bowl of makeshift dye is tossed neatly into the trash, the brush following – wasteful, maybe, but Koby doesn’t really want a bright pink sink, thanks – before he grabs one of the plastic shower caps he’d snagged from the endless supply closet, carefully covering Hao’s slathered hair with it. And then – that question, startling enough that Koby lets the elastic of the cap snap hard against Hao’s forehead, immediately turning six shades darker than the dye.]
What. [Savagely, blushing and blushing and pulling off his gloves, heat crawling up his spine and into his cheeks as he throws them in the trash as well, because – because he can imagine that too, he knows what it feels like now, he can put together Hao’s smirking, sharp-toothed grin and the feeling of someone settled between his thighs and imagine him there, imagine him laughing as he makes Koby into a whining, sobbing mess again and–]
Do you even know how to do that? [Flatly, embarrassment making him blunt.]
( oh, there it is. the blushing, the stammering, the way koby immediately avoids eye contact by ditching his gloves. the snap of the shower cap against his forehead is a worthy price to pay for this — something hao's been missing. something like victory. )
Duh, ( he laughs, rolling his eyes as he reaches for koby's wrist, tugging him back into hao's orbit. ) I'm not a fucking idiot.
( even if he's never actually eaten pussy before. what, like it's hard? hao's sucked plenty of dicks in his life, has even bent one of his dumb idiot situationships back at school over his kitchen table and eaten him out until he was crying and begging for hao to stick his dick in him. it's a pussy! whatever! he'll be fine! he's not worried!
— mostly. but any hesitation is quickly hidden with behind a wry little grin, parting his thighs to pull koby in between them. he definitely looks super hot and enticing and sexy with his little shower cap on. how can koby possibly resist? )
[That gets an arched eyebrow, an unspoken ”really?” written all over Koby’s face. It’s easy with Hao, easy to snark and roll his eyes and let down his guard, to be as sharp and petty as he (always, always) feels deep down inside. To not be so good all the time. Maybe Koby should feel worse about that. Maybe he should feel guiltier.
But he lets himself be tugged back, between Hao’s thighs, looking down at him with his dumb little shower cap and his sharp-toothed grin and his annoying, maddening, baffling confidence that radiates like looking too long at a sunrise. And Koby softens a bit, settling his hands on Hao’s shoulders, thumb absently stroking over where the collar of his shirt ends, over his neck.]
No biting there. [Firmly, reproachfully, finding the line of Hao’s collarbone and tracing with a fingertip.] Your teeth hurt. And you bite too hard. I had bruises for weeks. [Said like it’s a bad thing. Said like Koby hadn’t found the fading marks and pressed hard against them to send lightning sparks up and down his spine, in the middle of the night.] And if you’re bad at it, I’m going to tell you so.
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action bc i'm too lazy to make a post
( hao says it incredulously, kind of laughing because it seems so fucking dumb, squeezing conditioner into a bowl of faint pink powder before setting it down on the counter and flopping down onto the closed lid of the toilet. honestly, it would probably be quicker and easier to just, like, mix it up himself and run it through his hair and be done with it — considering he's dyed his hair a billion times before, but sitting there with an ultra plush towel pulled tightly around his shoulders, fingers curled tightly to keep it closed at his neck, and looking up at koby putting on a pair of gloves a little too big for his hands, it's kinda ...
something. nice, he guesses. hao doesn't really do nice unless he wants something out of it, but koby wants to do something nice for him ... for some reason? because hao nutted in him? because he just feels like doing something nice? there's a prickly kind of feeling trickling up his chest and it's annoying. so sure, whatever, he'll leave his fate in the hands of a hair dye virgin. )
I'm putting a lot of trust in you, y'know.
for me for my birfday a gift and a Treasure
[More or less -- fur isn't the same as hair, and the roots along the part of Hao's hair are darker than the creamy, champagne-hued rug in front of the fireplace in his room. Still, the result had been vivid, a bright, florescent, clearly artificial shade of pink that smelled faintly of lemons, so it stands to reason that it'll mellow itself out, right? Besides, if Hao keeps moping around the library, Koby's going to lose his mind.
Plus it's...a nice thing to do. Koby has his books, his quest for knowledge to keep him occupied, like Zoro has his training and Nami her maps and Sanji his cooking and Luffy the care and keeping of all of them. Hao is more of a mystery, his desires and motivations tangled up in the sharp-toothed grin that sends phantom throbs of stinging, giddy pleasurepain from that place on Koby's neck every time he sees it. He deflects, he insults, he pushes and teases, and the one thing he's expressed a desire for is hair dye, of all things.
So. Koby's finding a way. Because nobody deserves to have the one thing they ask for denied. He grabs the toothbrush he'd found packaged beneath the sink, clean and unused, the closest thing he could find to the brushes in the eight or so tutorials he'd found online, and starts mixing the conditioner with the several packets of pink powder] It's not going to kill you, you don't need to be dramatic. Hold that towel closed, though.
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for once, hao doesn't have much to say — he only watches as koby dutifully mixes the jello powder into the conditioner with the toothbrush, eyebrows raising as he sees the color it's starting to take. it's. really not that bad, all things considered. smelling like lemons and sugar is probably not the worst thing in the world, either — and is probably something some of the smellier people at the gym could take note of. )
If this turns out good, I think next time I'm gonna try to steal some bleach from the maids who work in the laundry room. Then I won't have to deal with my roots getting worse.
( it's the same thing, right? )
And anyway, I don't think I'm being dramatic. You'd be pretty pissed off if you woke up and your hair was, like, black or something, wouldn't you?
no subject
Here, lean like – [He steps forward, one hand reaching to tip Hao’s chin upwards, then tilt his head to one side so the first of the vividly-hued goo can be brushed onto his hair, slowly, from roots to ends. Multiple grainy videos had taught him that much, and the rest seems self-explanatory – put the stuff on, cover with the (dumb) plastic shower cap, let it sit for a while, rinse. Should be foolproof.] At least if this stuff doesn’t work, you’ll only have to deal with smelling like a dessert for a while.
[There’s a little huff of amusement, as Koby works his way along the roots of Hao’s hair, meticulously, gently, so focused he doesn’t think about how close they are, about how he’s leaning in until he’s resting lightly against the other young man’s shoulder.] I wouldn’t really mind. It’d be easier to blend in, I think. Less noticeable, especially around here.
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any kind of retort is bitten back, however, because what's more important right now is letting koby tip his head back and to the side and get to work. hao watches from the corner of his eye as the other boy finishes prepping the dye and starts painting the dye on — and the expression on his face, so completely serious about his task, is enough to make a grin slowly spread across his cheeks, maybe possibly definitely endeared as fuck, entirely unbothered by the proximity as koby leans against his shoulder, very diligently studies his own work. )
You say that like standing out's a bad thing, ( hao laughs, sneaking a hand from its place holding the towel tightly around his neck to poke koby in the side instead. ) If you blended in then I never would've found you at the club and we wouldn't be here right now. Sad.
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The poke to his side gets a sharp, squeaky sound, though, startling Koby enough that he instinctively jabs his pointy elbow down into Hao's shoulder.] Don't -- do that, do you want to end up patchy?
[Huff, huff, scowling downward with his pink-smeared hands. The mention of the club, though, softens Koby's expression minutely, has his scrunched shoulders relaxing a bit.] Right. Because I was so stunning, you couldn't look away. [There's a flat note in his voice, clear sarcasm dripping from every word.]
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koby might really be the easiest person hao's ever had the (mis)fortune of spending time with; he lets hao make his silly little remarks, absorbs all of his teasing like a sponge and lets it manifest in stammered words and blushing cheeks and occasionally, he gives it back in tiny little bites. he's surprised it doesn't piss him off. maybe it's the whole earnest and kind thing koby's got going on, in spite of literally everything else hao throws at him.
presently, it's an eye roll, tipping his chin up so he can really give koby A Look, practically squinting at him. ) Listen, the whole self-deprecating thing is sooo old. ( and he looks straight ahead again, keeping still and behaving himself because no, he doesn't want it to turn out patchy. )
I don't fuck people I don't think are hot.
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[A lull in his words, the sounds catching in his throat for a moment, mouth open for an embarrassing pause before Koby mindfully shuts it, crossing over to Hao’s other side to start slathering more dye onto that half of his head. When he speaks again, it’s quiet, resigned, seemingly unconcerned, though there’s a vivid flush spreading from the tips of his ears down his neck.] I don’t expect anything, from you. [From anyone. He wouldn’t know how to ask for it if he did, anyway.
Still, it makes him think of – something he wants to add, wants to say, tongue flicking over his lower lip as he works. So:] You were kind when it mattered, and I’m grateful for that. I’d never – you know. Done that. Before. [Koby lets it linger for a moment, turning even redder.] So. Thank you. For that. For being [gentle, caring, careful, in the club, if nowhere else] that way. I realize I didn’t thank you, before.
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honestly, he has no idea where the hell koby is going with all this, a sudden seriousness falling over him like he's afraid he'll say the wrong thing. the dichotomy between the kobies in his head — the bratty koby in the club, drunk and giggly and clingy, going pliant underneath hao's touch, and the vaguely nervous, unsure koby that's here right now, purposeful with the way he applies the makeshift dye to hao's hair, cheeks flushing nearly maybe even more pink than his hair — is kind of funny. and funnier even still is koby — thanking him? )
You were a virgin? ( forgive him for sounding surprised. hao's grin makes its grand reappearance, creeping slowly across his cheeks, perhaps sinister if it weren't so god damn genuine. there's a silly kind of pride in this revelation, warm and tingly and glowing in his chest — even though virginity is a construct, blah blah fucking blah, whatever — because it means that koby's forever, like, tied to hao. intrinsically, if hao knew such a big word. you never forget your first, and all that. ) Wow. I've never taken someone's virginity before. And I've definitely never been thanked for fucking someone. ( he leans back a little, absolutely beaming up at koby. )
You sure know how to make a guy feel special.
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I was. Is that so shocking? [A little huffy, but not quite as embarrassed as he might've been the night of. Koby's still a bundle of anxious nerves, most of the time, but he's definitely come (a lot) a long way since that first night in Otherworld. Much of it's hazy, the people he encountered, the heated encounters with friends of the Balfours, but the warmth of Hao's body against his, the sharpness of teeth at the place his neck and shoulder meet (gone now, though sometimes Koby feels a phantom ache, like there's still a bruise in the shape of Hao's mouth) -- that's very, very vivid. He remembers how he'd clung to the other boy, how he'd teared up at the end, how Hao had been laughing and teasing, but not cruel.
It matters, that he hadn't been cruel. That Koby's first time was something bright and dizzying and exciting, instead of overwhelming or scary. So even when he's being an enormous pain in the ass, Koby doesn't snap back, doesn't do much else except roll his eyes and start wrapping the dye-smeared ends of Hao's hair in aluminum foil.]
Well, there's a first time for everything, including being thanked, I guess. It made all the times after less intimidating. [There's a smug note in Koby's voice, in the curl of his pouty mouth, one hand tugging Hao's hair to prompt him to look up, back.] Hold still. [Stay put and think about how often Koby's getting railed.]
no subject
definitely that one.
all the times after. yeah, okay. cue an eyeroll in return as hao tips his chin back, watching koby work from beneath his lashes. all the times after. apparently things weren't so sparkly and magical and special between them after all. — not that hao gives a shit. koby can fuck other people, just like hao does. well, could. would. doesn't, presently. but whatever.
an idea creeps into his silly little mind, expression softening and practically batting his eyelashes up at koby, declaring before he can even dare think about changing his mind due to some ... uncertainty: )
Yeah, well. You're gonna let me give you head after we're done here, right?
no subject
The empty bowl of makeshift dye is tossed neatly into the trash, the brush following – wasteful, maybe, but Koby doesn’t really want a bright pink sink, thanks – before he grabs one of the plastic shower caps he’d snagged from the endless supply closet, carefully covering Hao’s slathered hair with it. And then – that question, startling enough that Koby lets the elastic of the cap snap hard against Hao’s forehead, immediately turning six shades darker than the dye.]
What. [Savagely, blushing and blushing and pulling off his gloves, heat crawling up his spine and into his cheeks as he throws them in the trash as well, because – because he can imagine that too, he knows what it feels like now, he can put together Hao’s smirking, sharp-toothed grin and the feeling of someone settled between his thighs and imagine him there, imagine him laughing as he makes Koby into a whining, sobbing mess again and–]
Do you even know how to do that? [Flatly, embarrassment making him blunt.]
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Duh, ( he laughs, rolling his eyes as he reaches for koby's wrist, tugging him back into hao's orbit. ) I'm not a fucking idiot.
( even if he's never actually eaten pussy before. what, like it's hard? hao's sucked plenty of dicks in his life, has even bent one of his dumb idiot situationships back at school over his kitchen table and eaten him out until he was crying and begging for hao to stick his dick in him. it's a pussy! whatever! he'll be fine! he's not worried!
— mostly. but any hesitation is quickly hidden with behind a wry little grin, parting his thighs to pull koby in between them. he definitely looks super hot and enticing and sexy with his little shower cap on. how can koby possibly resist? )
So it's a yes, right?
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But he lets himself be tugged back, between Hao’s thighs, looking down at him with his dumb little shower cap and his sharp-toothed grin and his annoying, maddening, baffling confidence that radiates like looking too long at a sunrise. And Koby softens a bit, settling his hands on Hao’s shoulders, thumb absently stroking over where the collar of his shirt ends, over his neck.]
No biting there. [Firmly, reproachfully, finding the line of Hao’s collarbone and tracing with a fingertip.] Your teeth hurt. And you bite too hard. I had bruises for weeks. [Said like it’s a bad thing. Said like Koby hadn’t found the fading marks and pressed hard against them to send lightning sparks up and down his spine, in the middle of the night.] And if you’re bad at it, I’m going to tell you so.