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Summary
There’s something inherently erotic about the way the thin raven-colored lace clothed the Sage’s dough.
The choice was obviously deliberate, for the Sage never once neglected his appearance. Wearing a piece of clothing without everything meeting his unnecessarily high expectations beforehand was never an option.
This premise alone was enough to fluster Truthless Recluse, well aware of the intention behind every single string of lace hovering over the Sage’s body.
He has plans for tonight. And it’s not just a massage.
