[ He looks up at the other man as he leans over him, at the hair spilling over his shoulder, so close to brushing against his own skin. Dan Heng's breath is thick in his lungs, desperate to spill over, short and quick and honeyed with his heat, eyes clouded over even as they glow with desperation and desire, searching the other's face for a sign, any sign—
He wants this so much, and in his heat he needs it, but there's that small part of him wondering
that small part of him that he thinks loves
not to mention the part of him that thinks there's no way the other can be attracted to his body, and—
He sucks in a breath. The heat is making him emotional. That's all this is. It doesn't need to be like this. Logic should be enough, right? ]
Okay. [ His voice is a whisper, as thick as his breath. ] I.. accept your help.
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He wants this so much, and in his heat he needs it, but there's that small part of him wondering
that small part of him that he thinks loves
not to mention the part of him that thinks there's no way the other can be attracted to his body, and—
He sucks in a breath. The heat is making him emotional. That's all this is. It doesn't need to be like this. Logic should be enough, right? ]
Okay. [ His voice is a whisper, as thick as his breath. ] I.. accept your help.