“Yeah, she said…” He poked the closest fingerprint again. It pooled and reformed, like water, if water twinkled red. “Your first. Is that like some sort of demon virginity thing, because—”
Justin trailed fingers through all the prints, catching them like ink-drops, tugging and releasing them to flow back to their spots; and grinned, looking up. “Oh yes. Completely. I’ve given my demonic human-claiming virginity to you, Kris. First time. Be gentle.”
And he might’ve been teasing, was teasing; Kris let out an exhale of amusement. But then he thought about words spoken in the winter quiet of the kitchen before an interruption, and the way Justin’s hand lay over his arm, and the depths of those cinnamon-pleated eyes when they met his.
He said, “Can you feel it when I touch it?”
“Yeah.” Just
