Good boy, my good boy, Iichan, [ Mindless nothings against Izo's bicep as Nishitani lays them back down, carefully folding his hands across Izo's waist and shoulders to lower him safely, mindful of wings and talons and claws. ] Come on, grind up on me, I know you want it. [ He looks up from where he's suckling a bruise against those twin black lines, to say this, one of his thighs planted firmly between Izo's thighs, pressed up where he's vulnrable and weeping. ]
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