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Summary
Healy smirks and lifts the cigarette to his lips, taking his sweet time. He watches March’s gaze following it hungrily.
“Is there something you wanted?” Healy asks innocently. March glares at him. “Go on, I want to hear it,” he goads.
March stands there, bracing his hands against the wall to keep himself steady, his chest heaving. He swallows. “I want you to put that out on me."
