Intimate Contact.
Blade loves the feel of you. In any sense. Just small reassurances that you’re here with him, a tangible companion, someone who’ll stay with him and won’t disappear the moment he offers himself the chance to feel a tad too happy.
If not an arm draped over your shoulder while you two take a walk together, then a hand curled round your waist or simply holding your own hand, gentle squeezes punctuating every few moments while you tell him about your day.
And when you’re showing him something on your phone, Blade’s shoulder presses against yours as he hunches over to take a look. Even if you shift away, his body trails after you like a flower to the sun, that bit of contact almost mandatory if you want to get him to pay attention to the meme you’re showing him.
Some gentle pats to your head; should he feel like it, he might ruffle your hair as well (and no, it doesn’t matter if you protest—your good hair days aren’t safe from him). And then his hand would slowly travel down, caressing your cheek, thumb rubbing circles against your skin. Maybe a playful pinch if he’s feeling like it, because your reactions are too adorable to resist.
When he’s driving, he likes to simply splay his hand on your thigh, the touch sending shockwaves of warmth through you and perhaps a soft gasp—but the man remains oblivious to the effect his long, slender fingers have on you, eyes fixed firmly on the road and expression betraying nothing.
Yes, even if his hand slowly but surely travels further up your thigh, centimetre by centimetre, the pads of his fingers digging into your flesh ever so slightly…Blade will still say nothing.














