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Summary
You both end up in his bed, not fully undressed, but certainly on your way there. You lay next to each other, each on your sides to see the other’s face. Your fingers find their way along his arms, featherlight, and gently run your hands over the needle scars. You wonder if he’d had tracks of any kind in life. He lets you touch them, doesn’t comment. Neither of you really speak. It’s a ritual and both of you are determined to not mess it up.