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Summary
The third time you trip over Harry, you take him by the shoulders and physically steer him away from you. He’s wearing his mesh tank-top again. You can tell from the warm furry bare skin you touch. You push him over to the far wall - which is not very far at all - the two of you stepping in sync, almost dancing. “Stay,” you say. A hitch of breath, then silence. “Good boy,” you say, almost without thinking, and there is a sharp sudden breath before you. The drag of air across your skin.