Chuck. [Mike shakes his head, thumbs brushing across the throat of Chuck's throat and through the hairs by his temple. He should know that his insecurity would subside somehow, when he's cooling down a little. He shifts his legs, folds a knee and hikes his body forward with a push from it.
He smiles just a little, almost whispering.] Not a matter of having to.
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He smiles just a little, almost whispering.] Not a matter of having to.