[ The tap does not go unnoticed, even if the burly man gives no outward reaction of feeling it. He remains steadfast in his possessive pillow clutch. After a lengthy moment he sighs and rubs his face against the slope of the pillow (that’ll be poor Wriothesley’s shoulder), muted noise a rumble from deep in his broad chest. ]
Topper… not now.
[ His eyelashes tickle against Wriothesley’s skin as Quincy presses his face in. This pillow is quite firm. And smooth… rubbing his face against it feels good. Which is why he responds to that urge on instinct, rubbing his cheek and lips against it and relishing the sensation. ]
Hello ✨
Topper… not now.
[ His eyelashes tickle against Wriothesley’s skin as Quincy presses his face in. This pillow is quite firm. And smooth… rubbing his face against it feels good. Which is why he responds to that urge on instinct, rubbing his cheek and lips against it and relishing the sensation. ]
Acorns in the top drawer. Have snacks.