[ He curls his fingers over the sheets and grips tight because he's beginning to find it difficult to breathe again. His eyes are fixed on everything you do and as much as he wants to ask what it is that's in the bottle, he decides that since he wants this, he trusts you and willingly puts himself in your hands.
What he can't help is the sharp intake of breath when he feels you pour the oil over him. It's cold -- that was expected. He figures at first that it's only natural given the furnace his skin has become, but then it feels like it makes it's way down deeper than anything familiar, and while he does his best, he can't help but squirm a little over the way it feels on his skin. ]
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What he can't help is the sharp intake of breath when he feels you pour the oil over him. It's cold -- that was expected. He figures at first that it's only natural given the furnace his skin has become, but then it feels like it makes it's way down deeper than anything familiar, and while he does his best, he can't help but squirm a little over the way it feels on his skin. ]