DESCRIPTION
Halsin never cared much for fine things. For himself.
Opening up that prettily-wrapped box in front of Clover's eyes, watching his fingers ghost over the spider-silk lace as Halsin warmly invited him to touch, as if he was afraid he'd ruin something so delicate... that stirred something in him he'd never felt before. He wanted Clover to have something that kissed his skin instead of scratched. He wanted to take too long tying ribbons too small for his hands over his burning shoulders. He wanted...