Hamish Angus MacKinnon
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"Oh," Hamish said softly, and he drew his dressing gown from his shoulders, hanging it neatly on the hook on the back of the door, toeing off his slippers. Asmodeus pulled back the blankets, and Hamish flicked off the light before he crawled into bed alongside him, laying his head on the pillow. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" "I was in town," Asmodeus said, voice quiet. "And so you decided to climb into my flat through a window, insinuate yourself in my bed, and not so much as text me forewarning?" "That's a good summary, yes." Hamish laughed, low and quiet, and then he wrapped one arm loosely about Asmodeus' belly, leaning in close against him. They lay there in silence for a few moments, before Hamish said, "I suppose you must be quite upset, to seek out this sort of comfort." "I suppose." Hamish squeezed Asmodeus a little bit more tightly, and when the alastora rushed into the room in a cloud of buzzing blackness, they crammed themselves under the covers, crawling into the gaps between their bodies, the crook of Asmodeus' neck, burrowing into his armpit and under their pillows. Hamish felt Asmodeus smile against his brow, and relax more entirely beneath him.
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