[ Who is there out in the world better suited to him than Molly? Fjord surges up to kiss him, slowing the pace just enough that he can taste him and bask in the way it feels to make love, sighing into a soft mouth. His gaze is so blown black by dilated pupils that he looks drugged and maybe he is, drunk on Molly's body as he's worked over. ]
You're so good to me, I love — that about you ...
[ Kneading at soft love-handles or what passes for them on that slim frame. ]
no subject
You're so good to me, I love — that about you ...
[ Kneading at soft love-handles or what passes for them on that slim frame. ]