[ Perhaps all that mating propaganda in his head wasn't for nothing; he hums as he slips Molly between his lips and the scent of him fills his nose, the taste of him sharp and hot as it burns across the back of a cushioning tongue. Fjord wraps a possessive arm around Molly's waist and drags those pants down further with his free hand, shoving them off as he refuses to leave off sucking him for even a moment, feeling somehow like he's back where he ought to be.
This feels like home, surrounded by Molly's skin and smell and softness. It calms him, beneath the simmering arousal, and he's not afraid of putting himself in Molly's hands. ]
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This feels like home, surrounded by Molly's skin and smell and softness. It calms him, beneath the simmering arousal, and he's not afraid of putting himself in Molly's hands. ]