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Summary
Tozer’s lips are parted, his mouth is warm when it meets Little’s. Hands with wide palms and strong fingers grip Little’s shoulders and hold him without grasping at him too hard; but maybe he’d like to be grasped, maybe just a bit, and the fingers curl against his sleeves hard enough for him to feel the pressure of them through the wool. It’s the most secure he has felt since Baffin Bay, since Greenland, since Greenhithe. The most secure he has felt in his entire life.
The ceiling of his cabin appeared before him.
