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    Summary

    Yesterday evening, a charming man with the Gentleman’s neck tattoos had slipped something unsavory into Caleb’s drink. It hadn't knocked him out entirely, but the aftereffects were apparently raining hell down on their dear wizard, and nothing Jester (or anyone else) could do had made it better. Caleb had resigned himself to sleeping off the drug in the hopes that whatever magical effects it caused would wear off in twenty-four hours.

    -

    “Okay,” Molly says, breathing out slowly. “Okay. So. Moving on. What — what do you need? Food, water? Alone time? A brothel? What can I do—”

    “Mollymauk,” Caleb whispers. “Please fuck me.”

    -

    Fuck, this may turn his stomach, but Molly wants, and Caleb needs, and they can be good to one another now and figure the rest out later. He gathers Caleb into his arms and kisses him back.

    Series
    Language:
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