I brush my fingertips across his pecs and through the fur of his happy trail, veering off to ghost down his sides. He giggles. He actually giggles, jerking away, grabbing for my hands. “Oh my gods. Blake, are you ticklish?” He latches onto my wrists, trying to pull my hands away from his body while laughing. “Yes, and do not tickle me.” The poor man doesn’t understand what he’s just done.
