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Summary
His beast is anything but tender, but it is still soft, in the way a wooden bat is soft. No hard edges to be found but blunt, crushing. “I’m Gaara.” His beast leans back, takes in the decor. “You’re in my house.”
“This is my house!” Lee splutters pointlessly, shifts defensively, “I bought it.”
“But it’s mine.”
Series
- Part 1 of Your Face in the Glass