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Summary
Lycan instincts can be tricky. The blood-sucking, spoiled son of Alcina Dimitrescu doesn't help. Who is Heisenberg to deny him?
__“ Please -” He practically whined, high pitched and breathless as he was forced open ever further. A cold nose pressed to the small of his back, a heavy contrast from the hot breath against him.
Finally, the lycan pulled back, grip firm on Oleander’s thighs as his tongue swiped across his teeth. “Please, what ?” His voice was a growl, low and grinning as he idly tapped a claw against the pale skin. “You gonna tell me what you want, sweetheart? Or are you gonna keep whining?”
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Bookmark Notes:
Heisenberg done ;-;
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Bookmark Notes:
Surprisingly, not bad in the slightest.