[ The tail sways a bit as it is being played with, the rubbing and stroking drawing little pleased sounds out of the tiefling. His lover knew his secrets really well by now, and no other man could make Molly fall apart as quickly and Fjord did.

When that hand comes to stroke him and he's pleasured from all sides, Molly's a whining, gasping mess against the wall, trapped between a stroking hand a that tongue deep in him. It's almost hypnotic, settling in on a kind-of-rhythm of being devoured and loved in one. ]

Love you. Gods, love you... I want to... ah... want to put some more ink on my finger, so I remember... us. The promise.