[ He laughs, a low vibration and flush of warm breath against the exorcist’s nape. ]
Do I feel chilly?
[ Rokurou has always run warm even on the coldest of days. A daemon with a tough hide and a Rangetsu with steaming blood, not an iota of the body that presses up against Matoba is chilly. ]
I’m just leaning. [ a pathetic explanation as to why he’s pressed close, flattening his fingers over the front of the other man’s clothing while relishing the tickle of his hair, ] Why? Hate touching a daemon?
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Do I feel chilly?
[ Rokurou has always run warm even on the coldest of days. A daemon with a tough hide and a Rangetsu with steaming blood, not an iota of the body that presses up against Matoba is chilly. ]
I’m just leaning. [ a pathetic explanation as to why he’s pressed close, flattening his fingers over the front of the other man’s clothing while relishing the tickle of his hair, ] Why? Hate touching a daemon?