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Summary
He cussed a bit, forcing his eyebrows together as he attempted to focus on anything but the flooding memories.
"If you... ask any of this again tomorrow..." Wind remembered to have spoken, gripping the pillow with trembling hands and a soft gaze: desire. A feeling that even if he knew to have, he would not allow to be consumed knowing Fire wasn't sober. He wouldn't touch him ever like this. "When you are sober..." Fire's eyes were on him, piercing through his thoughts intently. "I will grant you anything."
"Anything?"
"Anything."