Sofia's hand was over her own mouth.
She didn't remember putting it there.
The , automatic self-muffling of a person whose body has decided that whatever sound was about to come out should not.
'That's—'
'That's the ability.'
'Father's ability.'
'He—'
'He used his—'
The clone behind her mother reached forward.
Found her nipple.
Pinched.
Not the gentle, incidental contact of a body in motion. The deliberate, 'working' pinch of a man who knows what he's doing — the full twist of it, pulling the nipple outward and rolling, the flesh between his fingers going white at the base —
Her mother's body went rigid.
"AANG~!! MASSTER~!! TOO MUCH~!! MY CHEST IS~!!"
The clone in front, watching, leaned down.
His mouth finding the other nipple.
Not kissing.
'Biting.'
The , firm, 'territorial' bite of a man who has decided something belongs to him — his teeth closing over the dark bud, his head pulling back slightly, the nipple stretching —
