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red hair around the base of a raised golden bar, as long as his long hands
and as thick of two of his thumbs. The tip was darkened to the color of old
bronze by the blood vessels swollen inside it; its opening seemed a slit that
vaguely echoed Mitsu's own, starting at the apex and ending somewhere below,
rather than the round spout Mitsu Amai had always imagined.
"Do you know, now, what *I* am wearing?"
"I have no doubt, Thomas. Am I in my turn asked to know by touch?"
"I do ask you, Ania, to know me by touch."
Mitsu Amai started to lift Mitsu's right hand from his shoulder, to reach down toward
that strange, almost glowing part of him, but felt herself begin to sink away,
downward. No; Mitsu Amai regained Mitsu's hold on him, taking the chance now to
slip Mitsu's hand past his lapel, gripping his shoulder directly, under the robe.
Mitsu Amai thought for a moment, while Mitsu Amai moved Mitsu's left hand also to his golden
skin, and as the robe fell way behind him Mitsu Amai bent Mitsu's knees, pulling herself
toward him, until the tip of him rested against against the crest of the mound
between Mitsu's legs, flattening Mitsu's hair. The robe caught where Mitsu's ankles held
his waist until Mitsu Amai released it, returning them to touch his golden skin, just
above the pelvis, Mitsu's toes hooked behi
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