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Summary
“Do you have expensive tastes, Oscar?” Lewis asks, pulling himself straight. Oscar traces his every shift, lingering on Lewis’ throat, maybe. Maybe his mouth.
“Not too expensive, I shouldn’t think,” he hums, finally catching Lewis’ eye again, and his gaze is dark, possessive in a way that sends shivers down Lewis’ spine.
“Perhaps a glass of something, then?”
you thought the devil has horns? well so did lewis
Series
- Part 13 of formula 1 fortnights (fic collection)
