[ Molly can take it, he's built of sturdier stuff than most people believe at first sight. That's why Fjord doesn't feel bad or question the ease with which he fists purple curls and yanks Molly's head back at the same time he bucks in hard, holding him in place to be roughly fucked the way Fjord suspects he wants. It feels so natural to show him how badly he's wanted, as if they've been a couple for years and there's no shame in the ardent want shamelessly burning Fjord's blood to a boil, snarls and grunts alternating behind the tiefling as Fjord lets go of his self-consciousness and gets as rough as he sometimes dreams about, dreams of possessively marking up Molly as his and no one else's. It's a different flavour to the usual routine of making love that they fall into, a rare build-up of pure cravings for lavender skin under his mouth, tight heat around his cock, and pretty hair in his grip, and he loves that he can put this desperate part of him on display without fear of repercussion.
It's not only physical lust, although that's there too (off the charts), he just adores Molly in a hundred different ways.
His grip slides from Molly's hair to cup his neck, giving a slight squeeze. Fjord nips at a straining tendon in a colourful neck, tusks grazing. ]
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It's not only physical lust, although that's there too (off the charts), he just adores Molly in a hundred different ways.
His grip slides from Molly's hair to cup his neck, giving a slight squeeze. Fjord nips at a straining tendon in a colourful neck, tusks grazing. ]
Love you.