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Summary
His ruts were less a haze of possessive, sex-fueled rage, and more of a massive fucking discomfort. His skin always felt too tight, too small – like there was an itch under the layers of flesh, in his very bones that he couldn't reach.
But that was before he returned to Mexico. Before he spent what could've been hours helping his sergeant through bloody, rain-slick streets.
Series
- Part 7 of ✨ COD smut ✨
