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Chapter 13: Handling & Hamstrings

He doesn’t kiss me very long – or very hard – but somehow it’s perfect. It’s a combination of a lot of things I didn’t really know I wanted until approximately an hour ago. But screw the time; I don’t even care about it anymore. Wyatt was right. It has no place on this mountain. If three days can feel like an eternity to me… I don’t even want to imagine years.

I get carried away by this thought at the same time Wyatt breaks from the kiss. The urge to whine is rising in my chest before I follow his eyes and stare down at Canuck who has appeared out of nowhere. The wolf has helped himself to my leftover pieces of meat and he’s curiously sniffing the air between Wyatt and I – yellow eyes guarded.

For some reason I feel like I’ve been caught making out by my mom… there’s a sense of disappointment coming from Canuck and I’m the only one that picks up on it.

“Get lost,” Wyatt snaps at him.

This time, his command falls on deaf ears. Canuck stares at Wyatt - unblinking - then drops his head onto my knees, giving me a woeful glance instead.

I’ve seen Canuck disobey only once before, but there’s no questioning the way he’s totally ignoring Wyatt. I’m in disbelief. I can’t even process the electricity ripping through the air until Wyatt stands up so suddenly he almost breaks my toes in the process.

He tries again – desperate this time – and snaps his fingers while hovering in that menacing way of his over the wolf. Canuck doesn’t even bother looking at him. With Wyatt gone at my side, he jumps onto the mattress, circles a spot and then drops to my side with his head in my lap.

I witness Wyatt cracking completely. I can see it in his face. It turns a bright shade of angry red before he lifts his arm.

I can’t help it either; it’s instinct. I put myself between them and close my eyes tightly.

“What the fuck – move Calix,” Wyatt growls.

“Wait – what are you going to do?” I ask, trying to be reasonable.

But talking sense into Wyatt is like talking to a brick wall. He grabs the hand that’s raised up defensively and yanks so hard I go flying off the mattress. Canuck gives a bark at the way I tumble to the floor but Wyatt uses a voice I’ve never heard before – at the very top of his alpha range. It carries so much power that I feel thunderous vibrations through the cabin floor shoot up my spine.


There’s a moment of complete horror as I watch Canuck’s hair bristle defiantly. He gives a low growl at the command and the way he’s snarling at Wyatt would have me shitting my pants in fear that he’s about to eat me. I’m scared just looking at him but either Wyatt has a death wish or I’m missing something because without even a flinch he grabs Canuck by the scruff of his neck and drags him to the cabin door. The amount of strength needed isn’t lost on me – Canuck is writhing and snarling, back nails scraping the floor as he tries to resist being thrown out.

Finally, a sharp yelp rings through the air and Wyatt shuts the door on a howling wolf.

That familiar sense of shock has taken over me.

I have trouble processing what I’ve just witnessed; like my brain has just died. I can’t even stammer out a response – I simply stare at Wyatt with my jaw appropriately dropped.

Then he turns deadly.

“It’s because of you,” he accuses, bat-shit crazy for sure because I had nothing to do with this, not intentionally, anyway. He points his finger at where I’m sprawled out on the cabin floor. “You’re giving him ideas.”

Funnily enough, I find my voice at this.

“Ideas?” I repeat with a screech, highlighting how preposterous it sounds. “He’s a dog! I didn’t tell him to –”

Snapping his fingers to cut me off, I get the message loud and clear. He doesn’t want to hear it and besides, with Canuck howling like a maniac right outside the cabin door, I’m sure he’s not listening anyway. Still, it’s not a very nice feeling to be on the receiving end of his fucking power-hungry rampage. The loathing look he’s giving me is a drastic, unacceptable difference to the tender one he gave a few minutes ago.

Wyatt has an explosive, unpredictable nature and this is something that’s obviously important to him. I’m not sure what he’ll do in a blind rage so as angry as I am, I have to be careful while attempting to defuse him.

But how can I even attempt to do that...?

I cast my mind back to my first night and Wyatt’s brief lesson on wolf-pack hierarchy. At the time he simply referred to me as the bottom of the pack, but things must be changing quickly because Canuck seems to want my attention now; and Wyatt’s the one getting jealous…

Suddenly it clicks.

The thought strikes me so hard I might as well have been shot in the head with it. I was stupid for not seeing it before. It goes back earlier when I was playing with Canuck behind his back; Wyatt doesn’t want me around his wolf, not for my own safety, but because he wants me to himself.

“Wyatt,” I say after a very brief silence in which I hope he regained himself a little bit.

He doesn’t acknowledge me. I can tell whatever he’s thinking about, it’s not good. I need to be the reasonable one with these testosterone fuelled creatures or else they’ll both get hurt. That thought alone is enough to strike fear into my heart. What the hell will I do if that happens?


This finally gets his attention and he offers me a blue-eyed glare. “What?”

“C-calm down.” Shit. Less puppy, more wolf – that was Wyatt’s advice before and now I’m going to try and take it. “You’re making things worse.”

"Excuse me?"

Uh oh. That’s a homicidal voice.

“I don’t – think it’s a good idea. Being selfish isn’t the way a pack works. I thought you shared and –”

“Fuck off Calix,” he seethes. “Don’t even try to pretend you have any fucking clue about this.”

He can be such an asshole. As my blood boils, I struggle to remain level-headed. I can’t get sucked up into his passionate rage so easily.

"I do!" I argue. “I’ve been watching non-stop since I got here and you even told me. What you’re doing is unfair, Wyatt! Canuck isn’t doing anything wrong; he’s just lonely and doesn’t want to be left behind!”

That’s it. As if to emphasize this point, Canuck’s howl is right on cue. I lift up off the floor and start hobbling towards Wyatt – holding eye contact as best as I can as he watches me cautiously. It’s all in the body language anyway. The way he’s relaxing his fists tells me he’s stressed and distraught about the situation but not letting all of his anger carry him away.

I have to keep going before he gets a second wind.

“I don’t want to leave him behind either because that feeling sucks. You don’t even know how bad it hurts – and maybe you don’t care – but I do, and Canuck knows that. Stop keeping us apart… it’s going to get worse.”

He averts his eyes – staring stubbornly away from me and heaving a frustrated groan. Boyfriend, savior, pack-leader – whatever the fuck he is, he’d better start acting like it.

But maybe I don’t understand the bigger issue…

I approach him calmly, but not necessarily disobediently because he hasn’t barked out any orders for me to stop.

“Tell me what’s going on… why are you so upset?”

Wyatt immediately breaks at my nudging. ”Why? My pack’s falling apart – I’m out of control – everything is – because of you – and now Canuck—damnit! Exactly what I didn’t want happening…”

Canuck gives another howl at his name but I’m focused on the way Wyatt’s brought both hands up to his face. He pulls hard at it – nostrils flaring as I search deep for something to say.

“I know,” I agree. “It’s my fault.” I reach his chest and press my face against it before I lose all of the courage I’ve been gifted with. Wyatt’s heart is pounding the hardest I’ve ever heard it and the most unsettling feeling overcomes me. I just have to keep speaking from the heart and hope to God it’ll work. “But Wyatt you can’t expect it to stay the same.”

When he lays his hand across my shoulder, I worry for half a second that he’s preparing to rip me off him like a leech. But then he gives a tight squeeze and with his fingers digging in I keep going.

“It doesn’t work the same with three like it does with two – but I still think your pack is awesome. I still want to be part of it…”

Wyatt lets out another groan. “He’s going for alpha,” he mutters, referring to Canuck. “Attacking me…”

“That’s because you threw me to the ground,” I say, holding on tight in case this upsets him.

“Because you got in the way.”

“Because you were going to hurt him or something!” I object, voice breaking with a bit of panic as I recall the unhinged look Wyatt had lifting his arm in the air.

I can’t help peeking up at him and although he still looks pissed, he’s definitely calmed down a bit compared to before and his blue eyes finally meet mine. “I’m sorry – Calix I never meant to hurt you.”

“You didn’t,” I assure immediately, hugging tightly.

Maybe he’s relieved at this, or maybe my hug has superpowers. In any case, all of the tension in his body leaves as he finally relaxes a little. His breathing is ragged – as if he hasn’t been getting enough oxygen and suddenly he’s a completely insensible mess. He digs his mouth into the top of my head and starts letting everything out in a rush.

“God – Calix – I can’t – didn’t want – Canuck – I don’t know what – anymore…”

I’m also at a loss on what to do. Wyatt almost seems scared. But I know that feeling pretty well by now… surrounded by unknown; helpless on top of everything...

“It’ll be okay,” I offer lamely. “You’re still the alpha to me...”

He doesn’t dispute this even though I catch the tiny scoff he releases.

Wyatt pulls me tight into his chest and lets out another deep breath. It’s suddenly strikes me as astounding that he thinks I’m the spoiled one when he can lose his shit so completely if things don’t go his way. More than that, though, despite the fact he’s eight years older than me, he’s a little kid. Cuddling, tickling, playing and avoiding responsibility… I don’t know why but I find itadorable.

10:46 PM MST

I risk a glance at my wrist while Wyatt holds me close and calms down.

For some reason, I don’t feel the least bit angry at him; even when he almost yanked my elbow out of its socket. I just want to help – calm him down, hug him, re-assure him and make him smile. There’s no rhyme or reason for it. But it can’t be that unreasonable because he’s done so much for me... the least I can do is accept his tantrums.

When his heartbeat is finally steady again I pull away.

“Please, Wyatt, let him back in,” I encourage softly. “We can make it better right this second.”

“I don’t know… I don’t think I’m ready,” he mutters – though it’s all very weak once again. Wyatt’s looking straight down at me and holding my pleading stare.

“Are you scared?” I tease, tilting my head to see if I have somehow missed it in the look he’s giving me.

He’s not impressed. His brows immediately furrow as my eyes search his and the voice he uses is rough once more. “Fuck no.”

Then he turns so abruptly I lose my hold on him. As soon as he opens the cabin door, Canuck comes racing in with his tail between his legs; head down. He circles a spot in the corner and faces the wall like I did all day.

My disapproval isn’t lost on Wyatt as he glances back to me. I gesture to his wolf for effect and lift my eyebrows – silently telling him, “See what you’ve done?”

It’s clear he doesn’t even know where to begin but I take him by the hand and slowly approach the corner. “Canuck,” I rouse softly, using a voice Wyatt would never be able to achieve. The wolf’s ears perk – twitching in my direction. His head turns uncertainly but his eyes are still glued to a spot on the wall.

“That’s enough Calix,” Wyatt warns, stopping me from getting too close. “Let him come to us.” Then he sits on the floor and pulls me down with him into a familiar position against his chest.

“Call for him,” I encourage once I’m settled between his legs. He lifts up his fingers to snap them automatically and I catch his hand just in time. “No – use his name,” I hiss.

“Canuck,” Wyatt calls finally. His voice isn’t near as soft as it could be but it ends up working just the same anyway. Canuck’s ears bend back as his yellow eyes trail to Wyatt’s. His tail twitches a few times before steadily wagging the longer the two look at each other.

“Come here,” I offer, patting the space between my legs.

The wolf sits up and takes a few tentative steps closer. It’s only when Wyatt pats the space again that Canuck finally sits where he’s supposed to. He makes a noise – somewhere between a yawn and a whine – and he glances from Wyatt to me and back again.

Wyatt doesn’t need me urging him to make-up. He’s already lifting his hand out for Canuck and waiting as the wolf gives it a few curious sniffs. When he finally offers his master a few licks of his tongue, I can practically feel Wyatt’s relief behind me.

But Canuck abandons Wyatt’s hand quickly and presses his snout into my face. I head-butt him like earlier and he starts panting excitedly.

“I don’t like this,” Wyatt admits as Canuck slides to the floor and rests his chin just above the knee on my good leg. I’m caught up in something like extreme delight but the heavy tone Wyatt uses breaks through it.

“Just relax,” I suggest – knowing full well that not long ago, in this exact same position, I was having panic attacks when Canuck got close.

“This doesn’t feel like I’m the alpha,” he continues with a huff, gesturing the way his dog is half laying on my leg.

It’s really extraordinary how jealous Wyatt seems already; like he’s letting it infect him. He’s so caught up in ownership…

“You get all of this though,” I remind, moving a hand to refer to my upper body he’s got resting against him. Somehow this prompts him to start making use of it right this second. His hands immediately run down my sides and make the next words difficult to manage. “Don’t be so insecure. Canuck and I feel that so – if you want to be alpha, you better – better act like one.”

“You’re sure getting brave. Do I need to remind you of your place too?” Hands dig into my ribcage in a fierce sort of tickle.

I can’t help the forced giggle that erupts from me. “It’s – it’s not the same anymore,” I insist while squirming away from his fingers. “I’m not at the bottom.” I say it so matter-of-factly that even I’m surprised.

“How is it then, genius?”

I don’t have the answer to this right away. There’s a small pause as I take in Canuck’s position on my legs – Wyatt’s at my back…

“Like this,” I conclude, grabbing one of his hands away from my body and placing it flat and level in front of me. “That’s you,” I explain before putting my fingertips together in a peak. “Me and Canuck,” I reference my hands as I place them under Wyatt’s flat palm. The end result is kind of a see-saw look. “There’s no bottom of the pack, there’s just all of us together and when we fight – it all gets unbalanced, see?” I move one hand away so the support is lopsided and Wyatt’s hand on top droops a bit.

“You just don’t want to be at the bottom anymore,” Wyatt accuses, digging his chin into my shoulder and moving his hand off the see-saw to place it back at my side.

His statement is true so I end up giving a small laugh. We enjoy a brief silence before I notice his fingers tracing to the hem of my shirt and lifting it up.

“What are you doing?” I ask, even though I have a pretty good idea and it makes my cheeks warm.

“Enjoying my half,” he shrugs. “But it’s a little more than half, eh?” His free hand slides south to indicate the portions of my upper thighs that Canuck is nowhere close to. “I think I got the better end of the deal.”

“No, you’re completely missing the point,” I dispute – but he hasn’t really touched me like this, at least sober, and I find my head filled with thoughts of shutting up. I hold my breath just in case some wild impulse takes over to say something stupid and watch with unblinking eyes as his rough hand slides under my shirt, along my stomach and up towards my chest; something this small makes my skin prickle with heat.

His other hand moves my bad leg, spreading it wide and somehow straining my hamstrings in a very small stretch. “Ow,” I whine, my knees attempting to close together in a reflex. Wyatt doesn’t allow it, prying my legs open again and using strong fingers to dig between the muscles in my thigh.

“If you’re cramping, just massage it,” he explains simply. The relief is immediate and my body relaxes. “No wonder you’re sore… sitting on this floor all day. You’ve got a bad leg and if you don’t put it up…”

I nod agreeably as the pads of his fingers move in rhythmic circles, easing all of my pain at once. I’m still trying to process why being in his hands feels so good. There’s an immediate effect to his touch as it sends tingles straight to my crotch. It’s no use fighting how excited I get – he’s so fucking close to my rapidly inflating dick it makes my head spin and I drop it against him.

“Oh yeah!” he says, excited as if he suddenly realizes something. “I get this part, too…”

Before I can even ask what he’s referring to, he goes in for my neck. Wyatt’s beard is a hundred thousand times too ticklish to endure; it electrifies all the nerves in my body as it brushes the skin and sends shivers down my spine.

“St-stop tickling…” I choke on the breath I’ve been holding.

“Ssh, I’m not.”

It’s true that – once I focus – it feels less ticklish; more sensual. My dick stirs to life at this all-body sensation. I get so caught up in toe-curling thrills that when Canuck lifts off me and moves to the other side of the room, I barely have the mental willpower to call Wyatt out on his actions.

“You’re doing this… on purpose…”

“Hmm? Doing what?”

His voice is nowhere near innocent. It’s that same, “I dare you” tone he used before. But I’m tingling all over; dick throbbing at the head and pulsing with heat as his hands explore my body. I’m thinking all kinds of gloriously perverted thoughts. All about Wyatt’s cock... how I’d rather have it slide against me, without the underwear this time...

There’s a jolt of pleasure as I imagine the scene and I can’t be expected to take it anymore.

“Wyatt,” I whine. “M-more than that – don’t tease me…”

“Y’know, you’ve been getting kind of mouthy,” he comments, the hand at my chest heading to my collarbone. It peaks through the neckline of my shirt and continues sliding until it’s over my mouth. Any protest comes out muffled as I try twisting out of his hold. This struggle only makes it easier for him to lean over me and get a view of my exposed stomach... tented shorts. “Be quiet and enjoy the massage.”

It’s cruel how close his thumb slides up the torn denim. I forget all about the hand over my mouth and just focus on breathing. This isn’t a massage – he’s not fooling me – but whatever he’s doing sure feels good and he knows it.


I let out the noise without any control over it and Wyatt squeezes my inner thigh with a tight grip; still fucking teasing me for some reason. I need him to move his hand like, two inches and just stroke the unbearable bulge waiting there…

“You’re always making things weird,” he continues in what I am fast thinking is a sexy growl.

My apology comes out muffled, but I’m actually not very sorry at all as I lift my hips off the ground a bit to try and force contact. Just as I’m thinking he’s being really mean, I experience a stomach-flipping blood rush when Wyatt’s hand grazes over the crotch of my jeans. He hooks his thumb into one of the belt-loops, pulling hard; the denim tightens over my member and has me whining into his hand. I rip my eyes away from the erotic sight just so I can try and look at him – somehow get it across that he needs to domore; I need to drown in this pleasure I’m quickly getting addicted to.

Looking at him does nothing to stop this torment, though. His blue eyes are focused on what he’s doing to me – intent on playing with my body however he wants. I hope that being good, sitting relatively still, will pay off in the end…

But I’ve never been very patient.

I want to tell him to hurry up – just touch my dick already! I’m practically screaming for it in my mind as he focuses on that belt loop. He’s nothing but a bully; the forced friction of the denim is just making me drip so much I feel like pre-cum will start seeping between the fabric any second…

Finally, that thumb moves to the button of my shorts and I nod aggressively behind his strong hand. Yes yes yes!

Wyatt’s laugh is soft – almost an amused chuckle – as he works it open and pulls down my fly; I feel like I’ll pass out with anticipation.

“Wow, look how wrecked you are,” he breathes, lifting up the elastic of my underwear so I can see at a glance a really sticky, stringy mess of pre-cum stuck on my cock. “Super hot… holy fuck…”

It boggles my mind. Only a few days ago I was timidly turning away to pee and now I’m not even the least bit embarrassed to be so exposed. Absolutely I want Wyatt to see what he does to me and why I want him more and more...

He pulls my earlobe between his teeth and just sucks and nibbles – the heat making me melt. I can’t resist stirring my hips and brushing my fingers down my suddenly wet length. If he’s not going to do it… I have to or else I’ll die.

“Need it that bad?” Wyatt asks – like it’s not completely obvious by the way I’m losing it. I nod desperately again, trying to ′mmhmm′ into his palm. “But we just did it…” I try to protest this – it doesn’t matter at all. I’m so fucking horny I’m going to explode.

Then Wyatt gets up so quick that I fall back to the floor without him behind me for support. For half a second, I think it might not have worked; then he’s yanking me up by my elbow and tossing me onto the mattress of the bed.

I roll onto my back immediately and lift my arms up to embrace Wyatt as his large body crashes into me. He hastily works at his own jeans while I wrap my good leg around him. Wyatt kisses me hard and frantic – like he was being teased this whole time and I realize something has completely shattered between us; some kind of wall that we steadily knocked down.

My eyes are blurry and unfocused as he lifts off me to pull his shirt off, whipping it to the floor. What’s left is a really hot view of his toned chest – lightly dusted with dark hair. This attraction is still so new – I’ve never looked at a guy like this before; neversalivated staring at a hot treasure trail leading south... There’s no time or will to question my sexuality anyway. It’s just Wyatt and people who are not Wyatt, and I don’t care about anyone else in that second category at the moment.

I can’t keep still as he starts pulling his legs out of his jeans one at a time. I need to be freed from these impossibly short shorts as well but as soon as I start to take them off he jams a knee right to my crotch and stops me.

I’d complain if it wasn’t for the intense pleasure I get in return.

“Who said you could take these off?” he asks, using that sexy growl that sets me on fire. His knee digs in cruelly and I can’t help bucking against it – straining to slide my hard-on against him through the open flaps.

“But you – nnnn!"

Wyatt puts a bit more force behind his knee and it interrupts my argument.

Whatever – if he wants clothes on then I guess I have no choice. It doesn’t stop me from using the hands that were going to pull these shorts off to stroke up his bare leg. Blue eyes spark at my touch and he makes no attempt to stop me as I start tugging his boxers down. I need to make good on that vision from earlier. I need him rutting against me – sliding his cock against mine and making me cum so hard… taking away all of my pain…

I must be giving him some kind of weird look. As he stares down at me, his teasing smirk disappears, his eyebrows lower, and he bends over me to place an uncharacteristically sweet kiss on my forehead.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he mutters, lips still pressed to me.

I’m caught off guard. “L-like what?”

“Like you expect me to know what the hell I’m doing…” He plants another kiss – this time on my cheek and I abandon pulling his boxers down in place of wrapping my arms around his back and pulling his body into mine. “Like you can’t get enough…”

Both of those statements might be true – but there’s nothing wrong with them in my opinion. Wanting Wyatt is the only thing I’m absolutely sure of. It’s a feeling deep in my bones – everything he does, everything he says, makes them vibrate in a way that’s out of this world.

“Just – let me cum,” I say simply, breath hitching at the way he trails those light kisses to my ear. His knee isn’t offering me any significant amount of relief. I can’t angle the entire length of my cock along it and it’s only adding to the mess in my briefs…

“Yeah? Tell me how you want it then…”

That husky whisper makes me moan for some reason. I can’t control my body, my thoughts, or my vocal cords – and I only want to lose myself even more. I squeeze his back so hard I’m sure my nails are spearing his flesh. If it’s painful, it doesn’t even faze him. He just releases a throaty noise into my ear that makes me impossibly hotter.

My back arches off the mattress in an effort to slide up his leg and connect our crotches. I don’t hesitate at all to pull at my briefs – releasing my dick but keeping these shorts on like he wants me to for some reason.

Probably because he’s a huge pervert... if he is, I want him to stop holding back.

Then again, as I yank down his boxers and get an outrageously good look at his cock, I think there may be some heavy consequences of Wyatt letting loose. I wasn’t at the right angle to see it properly when I jerked him off before but it’s as big as I expected - and pretty thick. Right now it’s totally hard and aching to be touched; it’s impulsive the way I reach for him – tugging slowly and forcing some clear fluid to bead at his slit.

I can’t waste too much time playing around, though I make a mental note to tease him later… even more than he did to me…

I pull him by his cock and rest it against mine.

“I want it… like this…” I say, relishing the heat of his dick. I cast another glance up at him and he looks hotter than I’ve ever seen him. His teeth rip into his bottom lip as he immediately gives me what I want and slides his member against me.

It’s too much – something so stupid is going to make me cum any second. I can feel the tension in my balls building; I’m close, and Wyatt knows it... he teased me so thoroughly that I’m already going to break...

He pulls my mouth into his and even though I’m having trouble swallowing my own saliva, he forces me to accept his tongue too deeply. One of his hands holds my hip down and stops me from humping wildly against him but he still stirs his pelvis in a way that allows his smooth cock to slip over mine.

It might just be the blood pounding in my veins, but I swear I can feel his dick pulsing along my length. I love feeling how hard he is – I love the wet friction and heat. I whine into his mouth, sucking back his tongue before he pulls away to focus on slamming his cock against mine.

"Nnggh… Calix…”

His voice is coarse and somehow distant, even though he’s speaking right into my ear. I let the tone wash over me and my pleasure spikes – my lips part at how impossibly limitless it feels. It just keeps getting more and more intense as I struggle to get our bodies as close as possible with his hand holding me down.

It’s not long before he picks up the pace, finally taking his hand off my hip so he can keep himself propped on top of me – I thank God he’s so strong that he can even manage to keep most of his body weight off of me for so long and quickly take advantage of my freedom.

At last I’m able to thrust again – our cocks slick – and each time I shove up to meet him he rewards me with an equally satisfying jerk of his hips. We settle into a natural rhythm – gliding and twisting together, breathing raggedly – until my dick tingles from tip to base and I know I’m cumming.

I think I say it out loud, but I’m not sure. I just know that within seconds I’m biting into Wyatt’s shoulder to stifle the scream at the way he forcefully rubs against my spasming member. It feels so good it almost hurts; my release is so powerful it leaves my whole body shaking.

Wyatt isn’t too long after me. He’s sent over the edge with his hard grinding and then he jacks himself to climax – squirting warm cum all over my lower half. He even bends his head to look down at his cock and take aim. Maybe it’s all a part of his alpha act but it’s completely explosive; like he’s demonstrating his ownership by coating me like this...

Even though my mind is numb – prickling with post-orgasm high – there’s an unarguable fact piercing through it.

I want to be his.

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