Having his hand moved away a second time strikes Michael as odd, makes him nervous. He’s doing something wrong, that must be it. But Wolfgang seems alright now that they’ve adjusted him to their liking, so he tries not to think about it.
He loves having their hands in his hair, the pleasant feeling of fingers running against his scalp and everything getting ruffled. Touching his face: also good. He pulls them closer, mouthing down the column of their neck until he gets to the place where it meets their shoulder. Maybe he shouldn’t go any lower than this. Maybe that would scare them like it scares him. He wants to feel their bones under his lips, though. He’s thought about that.
“You always smell good,” he says against their skin. Their scent is everywhere in the apartment. It calms him down, makes him feel safe when he comes home. “You smell like salt right now.”