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Summary
He wanted to smell what Healy’s sweat was, especially when the man was surely extra ripe, going by the massive amount of translucent fabric under his armpits.
Holland gasped, which let Healy stuff his tongue into his mouth, and then smushed his hands into said armpits, digging the pads of his fingers harshly against the plush flesh until he felt the gritty texture of hair.
If he couldn’t smell it, he could at least try to taste it.
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established marchly w some sweat kink and some angst