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Summary
The said mark burned brighter with each thrust. Ancient texts (had Wanderer cared to read them) revealed its nature: a curse demanding full satisfaction, not just pleasure. It wouldn’t fade until every drop of seed taken was truly absorbed.
Which explained why, despite the mess between his thighs and the ache in his bones, Varka showed no signs of stopping. The tattoo pulsed, greedy—and so did Wanderer, milking him deeper with a whimper.
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OROne trip to some abandoned ruins cause more headache than Wanderer had anticipated.
