coquetteshart
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His hands settle on your back, initially cautious, but his hold swiftly tightens; you're practically crushed together. His sweater shifts against the hole in his abdomen under your weight, and the soft fabric brushes the dark flesh inside. He's tempted to make another metaphor out of it. One about how the warmth of an embrace could compensate for the emptiness that encompassed his nature. He resists for your sake.