[ The moan that escapes Molly is decadence and sin incarnate, and he reaches down to touch himself as Fjord plays with his sloppy rim and drives quivers through his body. ]
Oh, Moonweaver... I'm still hard.
[ He's easily played like a fine-tuned instrument to every touch of the half-orc's, and he almost instinctively pushes back against those fingers to slide them inside him. Molly feels utterly cavernously empty right now without Fjord in him, but those fingers ease the hunger in his exhausted body. ]
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Oh, Moonweaver... I'm still hard.
[ He's easily played like a fine-tuned instrument to every touch of the half-orc's, and he almost instinctively pushes back against those fingers to slide them inside him. Molly feels utterly cavernously empty right now without Fjord in him, but those fingers ease the hunger in his exhausted body. ]