[ His hair's already damp enough from the heavy, steamy fog in the air that she doesn't have to wet it - a quick, careful comb through of her fingers is enough for her to be satisfied there's no tangles, either. The fact that doing so allows her fingers to linger against the back of his neck and his nape is something she chooses to ignore.
Then, carefully, she pours the contents of the bottle into the palm of her hand and begins to work it into his scalp and down to the tips of his hair. She's trying very hard not to let herself be distracted by anything... untoward, but she can't help thinking that there's something so strange and intimate about this. Even stranger than the last night. Maybe because now, at least, they're both fully awake and aware and not caught in the heat of the moment, not drunk off the warmth of each other's bodies and the heady rush of finally crossing that line.
This time, it's the cold light of day. So Ai has no excuse. And yet... ]
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Then, carefully, she pours the contents of the bottle into the palm of her hand and begins to work it into his scalp and down to the tips of his hair. She's trying very hard not to let herself be distracted by anything... untoward, but she can't help thinking that there's something so strange and intimate about this. Even stranger than the last night. Maybe because now, at least, they're both fully awake and aware and not caught in the heat of the moment, not drunk off the warmth of each other's bodies and the heady rush of finally crossing that line.
This time, it's the cold light of day. So Ai has no excuse. And yet... ]
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