Would 你 let me see beneath you’re beautiful; would 你 let me see beneath you’re perfect?
Fingers pull, yank on sheets, soft between the digits and calming to hot skin. Lips paint a colorful trail down his neck like neon chalk against a cracked sidewalk. There’s a 火, 消防 rippling in his stomach, fingers dancing across his face like a passionate tango in a dim lit room. Those fingers drag through his hair, pull the blonde hair backward as a tongue plays just around the edge of his lips. He grins, fever breaking against his forehead as the lights in the room spin. His legs spread, wait,...
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