Inspired by a beautiful scene in 'The Song of Achilles' by Madeline Miller
Kurt's looking at you. "Your hair never quite lies flat here." He touches your head, right behind your ear. "I don't think I've ever told you how much I love it."
Your scalp prickles where his fingers have been. "You haven't," you say.
"I should have." His hand drifts down to the vee at the base of your throat, drawing softly against the pulse. "What about this? Have I told you what I think of this, just here?"
"No," you say.
"This surely, then." His hand moves across the muscles of your chest; your skin warms beneath it. "Have I told you about this?"
"That you have told me." Your breath catches a little as you speak.
"And what about this?" His hand lingers over your hips, drawing down the line of your thigh. "Have I spoken of it?"
"You have."
"And this? Surely I would not have forgotten this?" His cat's smile. "Tell me I didn't."
"You didn't."
"There is this too." His hand is ceaseless now. "I know I have told you about this."
You close your eyes. "Tell me again."
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