nairuru: “…. and the fingers that slide up the length of his back are cold, calloused, familiar. The touch is feather-light, barely there, a caress of frost on his burning hot skin like the mixing of fire and ice. Kenma feels the heat crawl up his

nairuru: “…. and the fingers that slide up the length of his back are cold, calloused, familiar. The touch is feather-light, barely there, a caress of frost on his burning hot skin like the mixing of fire and ice. Kenma feels the heat crawl up his

nairuru: “…. and the fingers that slide up the length of his back are cold,