He only let out a quiet noise from behind where he'd bitten his lip; Ganymede had curled one hand in the soft blanket, clenched tightly enough to turn his knuckles white. He desperately didn't want to come apart that easily.

For each tug Nicky gave to his hair he stifled a sort of backwards gasp, the air being pushed out by his fluttering diaphragm, eyes securely shut behind quivering lashes.