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Summary
“Have some more water, Young Master.”
Yet another cup as Flins pressed soft, open mouthed kisses down his shoulder, his arm, all the way to his wrist, over his palm until he looked up at Illuga through those thick eyelashes of his and took two of his gloved fingers into his mouth.
“Sir Flins, you’d better bend me over this very table, or take me to your bed right now.”