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‘ i don’t think i’m ever going to get used to this not shaving thing. ‘  it has been AGES, if not years since sable has used his razor, his once polished features now covered with fine hairs.  to him, this was a big deal.   

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           deft fingers lift quietly to the other’s stubbled jaw, but hover mere centimeters away from the hairy flesh instead of dragging slowly across the skin. they don’t idle there for long, however, & are retracted in a swivel of his wrist. lips purse in a hum as hazels rake over the man’s jaw,   ❛   mm ––– i rather like it. i think it suits you.   ❜