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Summary
“I would have to use both,” Neuvillette muttered, and dragged one cool palm over Wriothesley’s rounded belly.
Wriothesley let out a soft, questioning sound and Neuvillette met his eyes.
“To make your child mine.”
Wriothesley blinked again, flushed across his face and chest.
“Could you actually...?”
Neuvillette nodded, incredibly serious. “I believe I could.”
