[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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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.