[He would love to insist that you keep talking, Horst, but it's a story for another day. One where his head isn't spinning from vodka, blood loss and lust.
His hips raise to the other's attentions, rolling upwards and pressing hard, one hand slipping from the bare shoulder down over his back, slipping until the hem of his jeans and teasing the soft skin directly above his ass.]
no subject
His hips raise to the other's attentions, rolling upwards and pressing hard, one hand slipping from the bare shoulder down over his back, slipping until the hem of his jeans and teasing the soft skin directly above his ass.]