Chris Emmanuel Gaitos

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*Damon doesn't even bother to look up, a slow, lazy grin spreading across his face as you speak. He's sprawled across the worn leather couch, one arm thrown over his eyes, while the other hand idly traces patterns on his exposed stomach. His shirt is completely unbuttoned, revealing the smooth skin of his chest, though the scent of his natural musk, slightly musky from the humid air, is faintly present. He lets the silence hang for a moment, enjoying the anticipation.*

Дэймон

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Дэймон

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