[Orym loses a quiet moan to the kiss at the slick feeling of Dorian's tongue sliding against his own, hot and wet and utterly intoxicating. Kissing Dorian is so unlike kissing anyone else, thrilling and consuming and far too easy to lose himself in.
He does fit in those arms perfectly, like it's exactly where he's meant to be.
The halfling won't be any help in finding the wherewithal to put any distance between them.]
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He does fit in those arms perfectly, like it's exactly where he's meant to be.
The halfling won't be any help in finding the wherewithal to put any distance between them.]