[Dezel chuckles lowly.] We could make it work if you really wanted. [He doesn't move though, not yet; he's letting Sorey explore with his fingertips much in the same way Dezel learned his face. It feels nice to be held, to have his back rubbed. He's sure Sorey would like it, too.
So he slips his now ungloved hands beneath the hem of Sorey's shirt, slow and warm. He finds the shape of his hips, traces the lines up, up, up across his abdomen and the various little scars left from prickleboar hunting and saving the world. His thumbs tease at Sorey's nips only for a moment-- and then his hands shift to Sorey's back, kneading into the muscles of his back as if he were a bird with tired wings.]
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So he slips his now ungloved hands beneath the hem of Sorey's shirt, slow and warm. He finds the shape of his hips, traces the lines up, up, up across his abdomen and the various little scars left from prickleboar hunting and saving the world. His thumbs tease at Sorey's nips only for a moment-- and then his hands shift to Sorey's back, kneading into the muscles of his back as if he were a bird with tired wings.]