Clix’s nose scrunches as you push his hair back with a hairband and start to apply a facemask to his face with a brush. The smell of it fills his nostrils, and the smell of the face mask is surprisingly good. Clix tries his best to stay as still as he can, a bit of laughter erupting from his throat and making his adam’s apple bob at the feeling.

Clix: That’s cold.

He states, smile breaking out across his lips as he leans forward, eyes closed. Clix, hand laced with your free hand lovingly.