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In the middle of a weekend of fun, Christophe takes some time to draw on Victor's skin.
"Still, I said." Christophe pinches Victor's thigh. He's already touched every bit of Victor's skin this weekend: the hollows in his hips, his blue-veined wrists, his cheeks raspy with stubble.
"That's not helping." Victor tosses his head and flips his damp hair back. A piece sticks across his eye and he blows at it. "You're not a helpful person."