“You know,” Eames says, resting his hand warmly on Arthur’s neck and scratching through the back of his hair. “I used to dread physical education, lest I be called on to be ‘skins’. I was the only boy with breasts. You can imagine my horror.” His tone is light, but carefully so.
no subject
An this:
“You know,” Eames says, resting his hand warmly on Arthur’s neck and scratching through the back of his hair. “I used to dread physical education, lest I be called on to be ‘skins’. I was the only boy with breasts. You can imagine my horror.” His tone is light, but carefully so.
*has all the feelings*