[All this warmth might be a trifle inconvenient for Otto but Bruno is luxuriating in it, pressed against him, a breathy, purring hum in his throat. His knees are swiftly weakening with desire even as his blood boils. He pulls back again, panting, and fumbles at the buttons of his own shirt.]
Ah, god... I need to feel your hands on me, [he gasps, his voice going velvety.] Your hands and... Whatever else you might want to put on me....
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Ah, god... I need to feel your hands on me, [he gasps, his voice going velvety.] Your hands and... Whatever else you might want to put on me....