[ He bristles at the contact, but something in her touch roots him to the spot. Her fingers are warm through the shirt they gave him, a bit of bite that unnerves him less than if it were gentle. Gentle touches don't really become him these days.
His gaze drops from her face to her grasping hand, traveling the distance of her arm, her shoulder, her slender throat. ]
Yeah.
[ Logan pulls his arm out of her grasp, his eyes dark, his mouth a grim line. ]
no subject
His gaze drops from her face to her grasping hand, traveling the distance of her arm, her shoulder, her slender throat. ]
Yeah.
[ Logan pulls his arm out of her grasp, his eyes dark, his mouth a grim line. ]
This is fucked up.