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[ She lets him take her hand and turns to face him, his control the very last thing on her mind. Honestly, she's too busy reaching to knead at the back of her neck tiredly to even consider what's he's up to: because it was clumsy of her, and she's not usually so clumsy. It irritates her in a small, passing way for reasons she doesn't want to acknowledge. (She's just a little stressed, okay.) ] It doesn't hurt. [ Her shoulders come up barely an inch. She really does just need a bandage, so she looks at his smile blankly, waiting for -
She blanches, her lashes flying up. What does he think he's-? She feels her stomach drop and his mouth is around her finger before she thinks to tug herself away. Instead, her lips part and she stares in paralyzed awe, torn between disgust and ... something troubling.