[ Gods, Astarion really is beautiful, he thinks as the vampire slips into a reverie above him. Every angle, every laugh line, every slight shift of his expression is art, plain and simple. Winter could never tire looking at it. ]
Of course.
[ Easily. So easily. His tone is so soft, like he might break the spell of this moment if he were any louder. ]
[Quite a gentle, delicate air to this moment. Something to cherish in his memory, one that'll linger even as years and decades and centuries drift by, he's sure of it. A stray strand of white hair falls across Atarion's forehead as he tilts his head slightly to look at him again.
Anything you want. Now there's a dangerous admission. But his desire right now is simple enough.]
Ha, only if you have a tadpole in your head, which-
[Oh, whoop. There they go. Winter turns him over with ease, and he finds himself turning his head so that his cheek presses gently into the mattress, finishing his sentence with a bubbling kind of amusement.]
...Which I dearly hope that isn't the case.
[A joking manner which hides how much more heated he feels with his change of position. Winter's weight pressing atop him, his warmth, the anticipation of his mouth... Gods, it could drive someone mad.]
[ Gods help him, but Astarion's reaction to being flipped, his body language, his tone, is just as adorable as it is unfairly attractive. Winter's heart does a little flip in his chest just watching him. No one has ever made him feel like this before, it's new and exciting and unfathomably precious.
This man is going to spoil him for anyone else, isn't he? Gods, but what if there wasn't anyone else? Not after this.
But that's getting far, far ahead of himself. He clears his throat, dipping in for a gentle kiss on the corner of Astarion's mouth. ]
I assure you, the only thing squirming around in my head is the octopus who's been there for the last decade.
[ Reassuring? Anyway, he shuffles around and straightens to give Astarion a little space to maneuver, his legs framing Astarion's hips. ]
[His heart would absolutely burst if he was an actual mind reader and knew what Winter was thinking. Probably for the best, then, that he’s free to focus on this exact moment in time and the anticipation of what’s to come.]
Oh, well, if it’s just that.
[He jokes, but a wiggly space octopus beats out a tadpole any day of the week.
At any rate, once given the space, he wastes no time in rolling onto his stomach, where Winter would now see his scars in full. Normally, he’d make some remark about how terrible it looks, but the warlock’s made him comfortable enough to where he doesn’t feel the need to use humorous self-deprecation as a shield.]
Better?
Edited (ON HIS STOMACH!!!!) 2024-01-19 15:32 (UTC)
[ He does half expat something of that nature, another apology or joke made at Astarion’s own expense, but none comes. That feels… significant, like a barrier has been broken down and he’s seeing the vampire more vulnerable than he’s ever been.
What a gift he’s been given. ]
Perfect.
[ He draws his hands over Astarion’s back first, a simple pass from hips to shoulders, and then he’s bracing his palms on the mattress to dip down. He starts with the unmarred skin at the slope of his shoulder first, a sprinkle of soft kisses that trail ever closer to those scars, hair spilling over his shoulders to trail, silky soft, along that same path as he moves.
And at last, his mouth finds the first ridge carved into Astarion’s back, and he kisses it reverently. ]
[It's hard not to shiver as Winter makes his way down to the scars of his back. The anticipation does feel as though it's crawling skywards at this point, and the vampire's shoulders rise in tandem with a breath. And then-
Ooh, gods. The way his lips feel on his back is utterly divine. Astarion doesn't know if that's because of the build-up to this point or if this really is just a sensitive place by way of its history, or physiology, or both, but warm press of his lip do make him shiver beneath the other man. He actually lets out a moan to let him know it; a low, yet almost-whining noise that would be embarrassing were this with literally anyone else.
Muffled a little into the pillow, fingers curling into the sheets slightly:]
[ The privilege of getting to explore Astarion's body like something new is already quite the reward, but that moan is the sweetest thing he's ever heard. It delights him, knowing he's pulled it out of him, knowing that it's born of showing affection to something carved into him out of cruelty. His head feels fully with it, his pulse racing with delight. ]
Mm. I'm glad to hear it.
[ Words breathed out against sensitive skin. He draws his tongue along a raised line connecting one set of infernal sigils to the next. ]
[If he likes the noises he makes, he'll make yet one more when Winter's tongue runs along the raised skin of a line that connects one rune to another. Goosebumps had already been running along the tract of his arms, but they erupt anew at the wet, warm sensation of his tongue exploring the expanse of his back.
...Astarion buries his face in the the pillow. Between this, and the growing heat coiling at his groin, making his trousers even tighter than usual, and words like that, it's nigh overwhelming. Which is saying a lot for a man as experienced as Astarion, though perhaps he's the one used to overwhelming his partner in bed.]
Mmpphhff.
[Very eloquent.
Then he lifts his head, hair a bit mussed, cheeks flushed, to say-]
At this rate, you had best keep that promise, darling.
[Because he's thinking of his mouth in far more obscene places now.]
[ Very eloquent. Winter has to pause his explorations to smile, lips curving against pale skin. His eyes flick up to catch Astarion raising his head, color all-too evident on the tips of his ears. Gods, he must look a sight already. Just thinking about it makes desire flare hot in his gut, and he groans as he leaves a series of open-mouthed kisses along Astarion’s scars, warm and wet. ]
Is that so?
[ Words uttered between kisses. His voice is little more than a rumble at this point, all breath and heat. ]
[And that flush along his cheekbones, creeping all the way up to the tips of his ears, isn't going away anytime soon. He feels so exceedingly warm.]
Ah... ha-
[He arches his back slightly, an instinctive reaction to Winter's constant attention to his back. Every word fans against his skin, makes his nerves feel alight with an eager buzz.]
Would you like the delicate answer or the indelicate one?
[ Oh, this is so good. He's loving the opportunity to work Astarion up with little more than his mouth, relishing in every twitch and exhale and arch of his body. ]
I want the answer you most want to give.
[ Does he look like the kind of man who can't handle an "indelicate" answer? Please. What matters is he wants to hear it from Astarion's mouth, in whatever form it might take.
And while the vampire turns that over in his head, Winter lavishes another series of kisses along those scars, punctuating them with the soft scrape of his teeth. ]
[No, he's confident this man could handle just about whatever he threw at him and more. Though a part of Astarion doesn't want to upend this moment of pure sentimental intimacy with a blatantly crass statement—this is something to cherish, after all—and yet...
There is also the part that wants to indulge in all that Winter will give him, and is getting rather impatient about the whole thing with how keyed up his mouth is making him feel. Each kiss highlighted with the press of teeth, another layer of sensation.
So, indelicate, indeed.]
I want to feel your lips wrapped around my cock. I want to feel the heat of your mouth and tongue bringing me closer to the edge.
[ He was hoping that might be it, because he, too, couldn't help but wonder what it might be like to truly taste all of Astarion, every hot, salacious inch. And to hear it like that? Well... indelicate hits so much better, strikes so much hotter.
He breathes out another low moan against the marks that mar Astarion's back, one hand drifting to rest on the vampire's hip, just above his waistband. Gods he doesn't want to, but he straightens again, giving Astarion room to maneuver once more. He feels bereft without the heat and proximity, but the view will be absolutely worth it. ]
[As much as he'd like to indulge more in Winter's mouth against his back, he wastes no time in turning over once he feels the other man's weight lift off of him. Facing him again, he'll be able to see just how flushed he is. Just how many flyaway strands of hair have fallen out of place, looking up at him with wanting, crimson eyes.]
With pleasure.
[His pale fingers are already working at the button of his trousers, and he opens the vee of them with deft ease, shimmying them down his hips and working to get them off entirely.
In the meanwhile, Winter can see just how aroused he's already gotten the vampire. His cock is hard and swollen, and he exhales a breath of relief now that he's no longer feeling so restricted. Astarion toes his trousers off of the bed, having no need for them now.]
[ Yes, he was definitely correct. The view is worth it. Astarion is already so red and a little disheveled that Winter can't help but spare a thought to what the vampire look like if he were utterly ruined, hot and messy and pleading for more. Gods, he want to unmake this man so badly.
Later. Later when he knows all of the little things he might do to drive him utterly insane, though he seems to have gotten at least partway there just from lavishing attentions on his scars.
His eyes trail down instead, to where dexterous fingers work his trousers open and... gods, he's already so hard, isn't he? What a divine sight, Astarion naked and wanting beneath him. ]
Perfection.
[ Spoken so softly, though there is a slight edge to that word. Something hungry. Winter reaches out with slender fingers to trace the underside of the vampire's cock from base to tip, touch feather light. ]
[And he'd like that, someday. To completely fall apart for this man -- given how he's feeling right now, he has faith Winter could do it if he really tried. Or maybe if he didn't have to try too terribly hard at all.
Astarion's lips part, letting out a quiet exhale as the warlock trails his touch along the length of his cock, so soft that it's utterly maddening in the best way possible. He squirms a little, impatiently and instinctively, wrinkling the sheets further.]
Gods. You beautiful cad. Don't tease me like that.
[(This is not an actual complaint. "Don't tease me like that," he says, relishing in even that small amount of touch.)]
Hm. Your mouth is telling me to stop teasing but the rest of you seems to want me to keep going.
[ And what a beautiful language the body beneath him speaks, with soft exhales and squirming against the sheets. Winter won't tease Astarion overlong, having worked him up this much already, but he can't quite resist just a bit more.
His fingers form a loose circle around Astarion's shaft, thumb brushing over the head of his cock, teasing at the slit. ]
[Ohh, he's going to drive him mad with a touch like that. All of it light and loose and teasing, just enough to make him want more but never enough to be satisfying. Astarion rucks his hips up slightly to chase the degree friction that Winter isn't quite giving him.]
Ha...
[He knows what he's doing. He's done it to others time and time again, but that doesn't make it any less effective when it's used on Astarion, apparently. Still, he flashes him a grin, fangs gleaming.]
[ Winter chuckles, giving one more pass of his thumb for good measure, but he does finally relent. ]
Mm. Maybe some other time.
[ He's brought up that nebulous "other time" more than once by now, making it quite obvious that he'd like to do this again. He offered to map every bit of Astarion, a project that feels more worthwhile by the moment with how the vampire makes him feel. He'd explore him a dozen times, a thousand, if that's what he wanted.
But the future is the future. Right now, Astarion is writhing beneath him, asking for his mouth on him, and Winter would be a fool not to oblige. He dips down, pulling his hair aside with one hand so it cascades over one shoulder, and presses a soft kiss to the tip of Astarion's cock, eyes flicking up to watch him. Then, at long last, he invites the vampire into the velvet heat of his mouth, slowly and sweetly, savoring the taste of him. ]
[Some other time does promise another time, the idea that this could and should happen again, and far be it from Astarion to argue the point further. Maybe "some other time", and Winter really will have him begging for some kind of release; and Astarion, as much as he'd rather not in literally almost any other circumstance, would happily oblige him.
But yes, the future is the future. What a sight Winter is now, his hair cascading over a shoulder as he lowers his mouth to Astarion's aching cock. When he feels that first brush of his lips, a plush kiss against his head, even that small amount of contact is enough for him to exhale hotly; he squirims a little more, one hand coming up to grip the side of the pillow his head rests upon, and then the man takes him in properly, and a low groan of anticipation rumbles from his chest.
[ And just like that, such thoughts of next times and laters fly from his head. Astarion is all he’s thinking about now, the heat and weight of him in his mouth, that low groan, the sweet words of encouragement. Divine, all of it. Perhaps it’s blasphemous to apply such a word to a vampire, but it’s true.
Winter gives a little hum of satisfaction, a sound no doubt felt more than heard with his mouth so blissfully occupied. Bracing a hand on Astarion’s hip, Winter continues to swallow him down until he has the whole of him seated in his mouth, down to the hilt. Then he begins to move, a steady rhythm to start, head bobbing. He wants to hear more of those heavenly sounds, more of those darling words, and he has confidence enough in his own mouth to draw them out of the vampire. ]
[The hand on his hip is a weight that doesn't quite pin him down, but it's close enough to feel the same kind of salaciousness from it. Properly wrapped in Winter's throat, the whole length of him... "Divine" is absolutely a word he would use to describe it, blasphemy be damned.
If he wants to hear more sounds pealing out from the back of his throat, he won't have to work too hard to do it. The vampire parts his lips and lets loose a whine of encouragement, and the movements of Winter's mouth and tongue, gliding up and down his cock, make liquid heat pool just below his belly. That wonderful tension winding itself up tighter with every moment that passes. He's hard and heavy in his mouth -- practically throbbing.
Suddenly, he isn't content with pawing at the sheets and pillow with his fingers. No, he wants to touch him, as much as he can manage, and both hands drift down to slide his fingers into Winter's dark hair, gently stroking.]
[ Gods, it is glorious seeing Astarion is such a state, and better still is knowing that he's the one who put him there. Every noise is music to his ears, every twitch and pulse and throb a sign for him to keep going, to coax the vampire to the brink with clever lips and tongue.
And Astarion only encourages him further with fingers in his hair, enough to make his own pulse thunder in his ears, his own arousal left unattended and straining against his breeches for now — a sweet sort of torture on its own while he indulges his partner. He could answer those lovely words, slip some response into Astarion's mind while his mouth is busy, but it's more fun not to. More fun to let his actions speak. So, he groans in response, lets the sound vibrate around Astarion's cock, and redoubles his efforts to bring him to the brink, tongue pressed against the underside of his shaft as he swallows against him.
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Of course.
[ Easily. So easily. His tone is so soft, like he might break the spell of this moment if he were any louder. ]
Anything you want.
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Anything you want. Now there's a dangerous admission. But his desire right now is simple enough.]
I'd like to feel your mouth on them.
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Oh? [ His eyebrows go up. ] Are you a mind-reader, perchance? I was just thinking about how I’d like to put my mouth on them.
[ Said as he braces an arm across Astarion’s back and rolls them both over, putting the vampire beneath him. ]
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Ha, only if you have a tadpole in your head, which-
[Oh, whoop. There they go. Winter turns him over with ease, and he finds himself turning his head so that his cheek presses gently into the mattress, finishing his sentence with a bubbling kind of amusement.]
...Which I dearly hope that isn't the case.
[A joking manner which hides how much more heated he feels with his change of position. Winter's weight pressing atop him, his warmth, the anticipation of his mouth... Gods, it could drive someone mad.]
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This man is going to spoil him for anyone else, isn't he? Gods, but what if there wasn't anyone else? Not after this.
But that's getting far, far ahead of himself. He clears his throat, dipping in for a gentle kiss on the corner of Astarion's mouth. ]
I assure you, the only thing squirming around in my head is the octopus who's been there for the last decade.
[ Reassuring? Anyway, he shuffles around and straightens to give Astarion a little space to maneuver, his legs framing Astarion's hips. ]
Roll over for me, darling.
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Oh, well, if it’s just that.
[He jokes, but a wiggly space octopus beats out a tadpole any day of the week.
At any rate, once given the space, he wastes no time in rolling onto his stomach, where Winter would now see his scars in full. Normally, he’d make some remark about how terrible it looks, but the warlock’s made him comfortable enough to where he doesn’t feel the need to use humorous self-deprecation as a shield.]
Better?
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What a gift he’s been given. ]
Perfect.
[ He draws his hands over Astarion’s back first, a simple pass from hips to shoulders, and then he’s bracing his palms on the mattress to dip down. He starts with the unmarred skin at the slope of his shoulder first, a sprinkle of soft kisses that trail ever closer to those scars, hair spilling over his shoulders to trail, silky soft, along that same path as he moves.
And at last, his mouth finds the first ridge carved into Astarion’s back, and he kisses it reverently. ]
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Ooh, gods. The way his lips feel on his back is utterly divine. Astarion doesn't know if that's because of the build-up to this point or if this really is just a sensitive place by way of its history, or physiology, or both, but warm press of his lip do make him shiver beneath the other man. He actually lets out a moan to let him know it; a low, yet almost-whining noise that would be embarrassing were this with literally anyone else.
Muffled a little into the pillow, fingers curling into the sheets slightly:]
Your mouth's even better, love.
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Mm. I'm glad to hear it.
[ Words breathed out against sensitive skin. He draws his tongue along a raised line connecting one set of infernal sigils to the next. ]
I want to taste all of you. Every inch.
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...Astarion buries his face in the the pillow. Between this, and the growing heat coiling at his groin, making his trousers even tighter than usual, and words like that, it's nigh overwhelming. Which is saying a lot for a man as experienced as Astarion, though perhaps he's the one used to overwhelming his partner in bed.]
Mmpphhff.
[Very eloquent.
Then he lifts his head, hair a bit mussed, cheeks flushed, to say-]
At this rate, you had best keep that promise, darling.
[Because he's thinking of his mouth in far more obscene places now.]
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Is that so?
[ Words uttered between kisses. His voice is little more than a rumble at this point, all breath and heat. ]
Where else would you like my mouth, dear one?
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Ah... ha-
[He arches his back slightly, an instinctive reaction to Winter's constant attention to his back. Every word fans against his skin, makes his nerves feel alight with an eager buzz.]
Would you like the delicate answer or the indelicate one?
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I want the answer you most want to give.
[ Does he look like the kind of man who can't handle an "indelicate" answer? Please. What matters is he wants to hear it from Astarion's mouth, in whatever form it might take.
And while the vampire turns that over in his head, Winter lavishes another series of kisses along those scars, punctuating them with the soft scrape of his teeth. ]
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There is also the part that wants to indulge in all that Winter will give him, and is getting rather impatient about the whole thing with how keyed up his mouth is making him feel. Each kiss highlighted with the press of teeth, another layer of sensation.
So, indelicate, indeed.]
I want to feel your lips wrapped around my cock. I want to feel the heat of your mouth and tongue bringing me closer to the edge.
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[ He was hoping that might be it, because he, too, couldn't help but wonder what it might be like to truly taste all of Astarion, every hot, salacious inch. And to hear it like that? Well... indelicate hits so much better, strikes so much hotter.
He breathes out another low moan against the marks that mar Astarion's back, one hand drifting to rest on the vampire's hip, just above his waistband. Gods he doesn't want to, but he straightens again, giving Astarion room to maneuver once more. He feels bereft without the heat and proximity, but the view will be absolutely worth it. ]
Mm. Undress for me, darling. Let me taste you.
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With pleasure.
[His pale fingers are already working at the button of his trousers, and he opens the vee of them with deft ease, shimmying them down his hips and working to get them off entirely.
In the meanwhile, Winter can see just how aroused he's already gotten the vampire. His cock is hard and swollen, and he exhales a breath of relief now that he's no longer feeling so restricted. Astarion toes his trousers off of the bed, having no need for them now.]
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Later. Later when he knows all of the little things he might do to drive him utterly insane, though he seems to have gotten at least partway there just from lavishing attentions on his scars.
His eyes trail down instead, to where dexterous fingers work his trousers open and... gods, he's already so hard, isn't he? What a divine sight, Astarion naked and wanting beneath him. ]
Perfection.
[ Spoken so softly, though there is a slight edge to that word. Something hungry. Winter reaches out with slender fingers to trace the underside of the vampire's cock from base to tip, touch feather light. ]
You're going to be so lovely in my mouth.
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Astarion's lips part, letting out a quiet exhale as the warlock trails his touch along the length of his cock, so soft that it's utterly maddening in the best way possible. He squirms a little, impatiently and instinctively, wrinkling the sheets further.]
Gods. You beautiful cad. Don't tease me like that.
[(This is not an actual complaint. "Don't tease me like that," he says, relishing in even that small amount of touch.)]
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[ And what a beautiful language the body beneath him speaks, with soft exhales and squirming against the sheets. Winter won't tease Astarion overlong, having worked him up this much already, but he can't quite resist just a bit more.
His fingers form a loose circle around Astarion's shaft, thumb brushing over the head of his cock, teasing at the slit. ]
Which is it?
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Ha...
[He knows what he's doing. He's done it to others time and time again, but that doesn't make it any less effective when it's used on Astarion, apparently. Still, he flashes him a grin, fangs gleaming.]
I want your mouth. Don't make me beg, darling.
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Mm. Maybe some other time.
[ He's brought up that nebulous "other time" more than once by now, making it quite obvious that he'd like to do this again. He offered to map every bit of Astarion, a project that feels more worthwhile by the moment with how the vampire makes him feel. He'd explore him a dozen times, a thousand, if that's what he wanted.
But the future is the future. Right now, Astarion is writhing beneath him, asking for his mouth on him, and Winter would be a fool not to oblige. He dips down, pulling his hair aside with one hand so it cascades over one shoulder, and presses a soft kiss to the tip of Astarion's cock, eyes flicking up to watch him. Then, at long last, he invites the vampire into the velvet heat of his mouth, slowly and sweetly, savoring the taste of him. ]
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But yes, the future is the future. What a sight Winter is now, his hair cascading over a shoulder as he lowers his mouth to Astarion's aching cock. When he feels that first brush of his lips, a plush kiss against his head, even that small amount of contact is enough for him to exhale hotly; he squirims a little more, one hand coming up to grip the side of the pillow his head rests upon, and then the man takes him in properly, and a low groan of anticipation rumbles from his chest.
Oh, he feels so good already.]
Yes. Just like that, love.
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Winter gives a little hum of satisfaction, a sound no doubt felt more than heard with his mouth so blissfully occupied. Bracing a hand on Astarion’s hip, Winter continues to swallow him down until he has the whole of him seated in his mouth, down to the hilt. Then he begins to move, a steady rhythm to start, head bobbing. He wants to hear more of those heavenly sounds, more of those darling words, and he has confidence enough in his own mouth to draw them out of the vampire. ]
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If he wants to hear more sounds pealing out from the back of his throat, he won't have to work too hard to do it. The vampire parts his lips and lets loose a whine of encouragement, and the movements of Winter's mouth and tongue, gliding up and down his cock, make liquid heat pool just below his belly. That wonderful tension winding itself up tighter with every moment that passes. He's hard and heavy in his mouth -- practically throbbing.
Suddenly, he isn't content with pawing at the sheets and pillow with his fingers. No, he wants to touch him, as much as he can manage, and both hands drift down to slide his fingers into Winter's dark hair, gently stroking.]
Ahh, you spoil me, you're so good to me.
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And Astarion only encourages him further with fingers in his hair, enough to make his own pulse thunder in his ears, his own arousal left unattended and straining against his breeches for now — a sweet sort of torture on its own while he indulges his partner. He could answer those lovely words, slip some response into Astarion's mind while his mouth is busy, but it's more fun not to. More fun to let his actions speak. So, he groans in response, lets the sound vibrate around Astarion's cock, and redoubles his efforts to bring him to the brink, tongue pressed against the underside of his shaft as he swallows against him.
He'd so hate to disappoint. ]
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