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Summary
Checo frowned, still foggy with sleep, and dragged his fingers down again, slower this time. The resistance wasn’t imagined. It wasn’t fabric. It wasn’t the angle. It was flesh.
There was no delicate discovery here. No ambiguity. No *maybe I’m still dreaming.*
There were breasts on his body.
Series
- Part 7 of Tumblr Short Requests
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One Shot!