What it lends him is far too much cloth around his shoulders. Besides, [ he adds, as he languidly accepts the touch of those fingers down the length of his arms, ] as far as I can tell, you quite like the image of my bare arms.

[ With the press of lips to his knuckles, his own settle into a pleasured smile, plump lips curled back to bare just enough of his teeth to suggest the sharpness within. His palm slots easily along that cheek, and as it does so, Lucius teases the tip of his thumb claw along the long scar that had been drawn into its flesh by his own hand. It doesn't have the sensitivity of the thumb pad its length had consumed, but he can still feel the catch of ridged skin beneath its touch. ]

True enough. [ Humor and disappointment intermingle in the faint sigh that chases those words. ] I suppose we shall.