[ The couch creaks in protest as he drops down, tossing his cloak who the fucks knows where in the process. Glad he forewent his armour because now he can feel Molly crawling onto his lap through nothing but his long tunic and leather pants, face burning with a blush that still doesn't stop him from experimentally running his hands up Molly's thighs with a squeeze; he makes eye-contact and looks up as the caresses roam around the swell of a pert ass, kneading to drag Molly closer, unable to look away from those red eyes.
Fjord should be shyer about being half-mast just from some heated kissing but he's been ruminating about this for days, thinking about doing more than cuddling at bedtime. He arches his hips up to try and grind between those splayed legs, desperate for more friction. ]
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Fjord should be shyer about being half-mast just from some heated kissing but he's been ruminating about this for days, thinking about doing more than cuddling at bedtime. He arches his hips up to try and grind between those splayed legs, desperate for more friction. ]
Get down here.
[ That rough, gravelly voice can't be his. ]