Santa Clause. He's a jolly fat fuck with white hair and a beard. Every winter he breaks into homes giving presents to good children and coal to naughty children and demands cookies. But you're hot Santa, so you're buff and instead of being jolly you look off quietly thinking sexy thoughts or whatever is rattling around in there.
Not even once? That's fucking depressing, dude. I've broken into plenty of people's houses. Sometimes I order them pizza! I probably would be surprised. Unless it's you genuinely considering doing some knife play with me????
Ja. Yes. [ He tries to make it sound more reassuring than antsy. This brand of the city's compulsion is newer to him, more complex than the pull of mere lust. The prospect of indulging in a fight, even playfully, involves an aspect of alertness and competition that he's not always terrific at combining with sexual aspects, particularly when dealing with someone he hardly knows. ]
It is merely difficult to know when to save one's hits and welcome other things. [ Y'know, things like unplanned fucks partially induced by tacky cards. To help prove his words, he arches his back to press himself more firmly against Wade, he free hand returning to his own cock. The hand at Wade's wrist stays there, thumb stroking the back of the other man's hand. ] Please continue. Be a little rough with me, if you'd like.
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