[... Leon makes a vaguely amused noise at that, Stahn's lips at his shoulder sending the faintest of shivers through him before he settles back properly against Stahn's chest again. It is warm, he isn't wrong about that.
But seriously, is this the sort of Stahn he gets when he tells him to stop holding back? Defiance and certainty and demands?
(He likes it.)]
Honestly. You are impossible.
[But in the best of ways, and Leon's focused completely and totally on his task, moving sweaty strands of hair back from Stahn's face and neatening his mane, running his nails ever-so-lightly along his scalp as he works.
It's warm, and this is pleasant, and Leon's never been good at just sitting--so this gives him something to do with his hands.]
... And did not I say there was anything wrong with it.
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But seriously, is this the sort of Stahn he gets when he tells him to stop holding back? Defiance and certainty and demands?
(He likes it.)]
Honestly. You are impossible.
[But in the best of ways, and Leon's focused completely and totally on his task, moving sweaty strands of hair back from Stahn's face and neatening his mane, running his nails ever-so-lightly along his scalp as he works.
It's warm, and this is pleasant, and Leon's never been good at just sitting--so this gives him something to do with his hands.]
... And did not I say there was anything wrong with it.