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Summary
“Don’t,” Tadashi says, voice gentle, hand gentle as he reaches out to touch Ainosuke’s jaw. His hand is batted away, pinned against his hip.
“I want to,” Ainosuke replies, wavering between spoiled childishness and something more vulnerable. He smiles, expression trying to be cruel, a prototype of the malice he’ll perfect in America. “You’re my dog. I’ll do what I like with you.”filling in the gaps of Tadashi and Ainosuke's relationship.
