He feels Hastur on his lips and under his tongue, behind his eyes and so very careful not to knock Arthur out of his own body because if he is too much himself, he would.And then it’s gone, and Arthur is gasping, and somehow on his knees, and the bugdog is licking his face with concern and making weird little whimpering buzzing sounds. “Got a kiss after all,” he blurts, laughs weakly, and hangs his head to keep from passing out.

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