February 2012
192 posts
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To Crumble.
Whine. Whiiiine.
Talon groans, shoving the blankets down to his waist. The bed is so warm, his woman so soft and sweet-smelling with her limbs entwined with his. Things are yet odd between them in waking hours, neither of them able to the tensions of the past few days, but in sleep their bodies crave one another.
Whimper. Scritch-scritch.
“Coming, dog,” he grumbles, kissing Harlo’s...
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