eric halliwell-garcía

“WArning,” Eric mouthed, cleaning his lips corner with a hand. “Unless you’re secretly above fifty and clearly far from my age, save that expression, or you’re leaving unsatisfied.” The witch pointed, patting the hand off of his hold and laying now feeling lazy ─ not entirely turn off ─ on his back. Facing the man next to him. “Never had a cock with that size of piercing in my mouth.”

Uppler floor, wide windows, his own apartment. He knew it was a bad decision to have been doing it there, and there only. But he also knew... he couldn’t help himself. With Matty’s body welcoming his dick in every senseless fast thrust, he exposed themselves to the views of neighbours that could be checking up to the artist’s windows. Aware that it was too steamy already to clearly discern who laid in front of him, Eric took all the advantage he could. When his cousin’s arm came back to embrace him, he pushed him further and temporarily slowed down to a minimum, “excited?”

Laying under the werewolf, Eric couldn’t help but groan. With his hands sliding under pieces of fabric, he came into contact with the very few inches he managed to touch, because despite all his need to grab his ass, he still wanted to hold his hips as if he needed support and comfort. Eric’s lips was bitten, their lower bodies, both covered in thin cotton briefs, came into contact when Isaac’s hips rocked against his.

I can’t get you a coffee, but I can write you a starter if you like this post.