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20 June 2009 | 5214 words
Title: A little Death
Beta: none but repeatedly proofread. Still all mistakes are mine
Disclaimer: Characters still belong to Mr. Tolkien, not to me (sigh!) Just played around with them in my crazy mind.
Summary: It was a dark and stormy night, when a lone rider came to Minas Tirith
Written for the 2009 Midsummer Swap.
Request by The Vixenne: Hmm, a story that takes place post-Ring in which Boromir doesn’t die, Aragorn is King and a very confident Faramir makes up for what he almost lost by seducing both his older brother (who wants it badly) and his new lord. Give me as much kink as you can stand (the hotter the better). I love sexy banter between men and I’d like to see Faramir as a bit more aggressive
A Little Death
Faramir stared out into the night. Rain fell heavily against the windows and blazing bolts of lightning shattered the darkness. The end of the summer was drawing near, the first summer of peace in Minas Tirith since a very long time. Gondor had started to heal from the deep wounds she had suffered from years of repeated Orc attacks, prospering under the wise rule of the new King. Everything could have been fine, and still Faramir stood at the window, his heart clenching with pain.
“You still mourn him.” Silently Aragorn had approached the lone figure of his young Steward, placing his arm gently around his shoulders.
“As deeply and painfully as you do.” Faramir leaned back into the comforting embrace, “I’ll never fully understand that I’ll never see him again. He’s been the one constant of my life, always here for me, even when he was abroad. I too loved him, maybe even more than one brother should love another.” The last words were an almost inaudible whisper.
“I know, he was well aware of it and your feelings were not altogether unrequited.” The King pulled the younger man closer into his embrace, letting his palms glide soothingly over his arms. “I know it from the way he spoke of you. Even when we were together, he wouldn’t cease to praise your beauty, your strength and your kind heart. But he was too honorable to let you ever notice his true feelings.”
“Damned be his sense of honor, if I’d only been more insistent! You’re a lucky man, my King, to have known him thusly.” Faramir rested his head on the strong shoulder of his liege. “Sometimes I think I can’t stand the emptiness in my heart any longer, and I know you feel the same.” The mixture of pain and seduction on the handsome face was almost more than Aragorn could stand. “So why not take comfort in each other in this time of heartbreak and make our loneliness more bearable?”
“You know that I care for you and very much so.” Aragorn showered the worried brow with soft kisses. “Still it wouldn’t seem right to me. We’d only think of him, even when our flesh would be united. It would be something like an act of necromancy, like conjuring his ghost. That’s not the way I’d like to make love to you. We should better wait until the pain has lessened.”
Nodding in understanding the young Steward continued to stare out into the rainy darkness. Suddenly his body stiffened in surprise and he took a step closer towards the window.
“There’s a rider coming up to the castle. Seems to be important. Can’t imagine anyone being out all alone in a night like this without some really important reason.”
Aragorn looked at the lone figure huddled in the saddle of his horse; his head bent low against storm and rain. The rider steadied his mount with a firm hand to keep it from balking at the flashing thunderbolts. He rode hard, eager to find a warm shelter within the walls of the castle.
“Must be a messenger with some very urgent message.” Aragorn was already halfway to the door. “Let’s go down to great him.”
When the two men reached the hall, they saw the guard, who had already opened the door, stumble backwards, his face ashen and distorted with horror. He looked like someone who’d seen an evil spirit of the damned. Curiously the King and his Steward looked at the stranger, only to back away in shock as they recognized the all too well known figure standing in the entrance, dripping wet with rain.
“Gods, what have we done!” Faramir clung tightly on his liege’s arm, his face waxen and his whole body shaking like a leaf. Openmouthed the two men stared at their unexpected guest.
“What kind of welcome is this?” Amusement swung in the deep grumble of the newcomer. “Here I come, withstanding night and rain, to be with you again, and you look at me like you’d see the most terrible thing on earth. I know, I don’t look my best, all wet and this, but I surely would have expected a warmer welcome after my long absence.”
Tentatively Aragorn took a step forward, frantically trying to think over the best way to deal with the unforeseen guest. From his experience he knew a little about the way to treat suspicious beings, but whoever had come in the form of his former friend and lover looked to alive to be a ghost. Dampness rose from his wet cloak and hair and he cast a clearly visible shadow. There shouldn’t be dampness rising from an immaterial body, there should not be a shadow, but one never could be sure and one always had to be careful whom one invited over one’s threshold.
“Ahem, you… you ..we … ahem.” Clearing his throat the King tried to start anew. “We surely didn’t expect you. Come to the fireplace to warm up, you surely must be freezing.” Fire, always a good thing, evil spirits would shy away from its lively warmth. And no invitation into the house, just an invitation to share the fire. “So how, … how did you fare?”
Wrapping himself out of his drenched cloak Boromir strolled towards the bristling fire, sighing contently as the warmth of the dancing flames slowly spread through his body. Still shaking his head he turned towards the other men.
“Why do you look at me like this? I’m no ghost. Look there’s no hole in my back.” slowly turning round he made a show of giving his hosts a glance of every side of his body. “Aren’t ghosts supposed to have a hole in their back? Well,” sitting down and stretching his long legs out in comfort Boromir started his tale, “seems that I missed out on all the fun. Those damned orcs got me really hard, took me some time to get patched together again. But it’s been a wise idea to leave me in the care of this funny old fellow and his wife, she really worked wonders on my wounds.”
“Funny old fellow?” Aragorn raised his eyebrows in amazement.
“Yeah, the guy with the yellow boots. Good Ol’ Tom!” Boromir smiled at the memory. “Jolly chap, always singing and speaking in riddles and rhymes. He’s got a lovely wife, Goldberry, I’ve never met a woman like her, skilled in everything beyond measure.”
“Tom? Tom Bombadil?” Forgetting his surprise Faramir rushed at his brother’s side. “You met Tom Bombadil? Have been in his house? So he isn’t a mere legend”
“Look who’s found his tongue again. Already feared that our new King had ripped it out after you’d asked holes in his belly. Good to have you again little brother.”
“We thought you’d be dead.” The words were out of Faramir’s mouth ere he even realized he’d been speaking. “We found your shattered horn and thought you’d died in the attack.”
“Oh, the horn. Well, that would have been Aragorn’s fault. He blew it too hard.” Noticing his brother’s stunned expression Boromir couldn’t suppress a grin. “Yeah, I let him blow my horn. Don’t look at me like this, he wanted it so badly and could you deny him anything when he’s looking at you with these big pleading blue eyes?”
With a cry Faramir flung himself into his brother’s arms. “Now I know it’s really you! No ghost could possibly speak like this!” Burying his face into Boromir’s shirt he muttered to himself. “Although I’d have welcomed you if you’d been a mere succubus coming for me in the disguise of my brother.”
At Aragorn’s sharp hiss the young Steward spun around, embarrassed that his mumbled words had been heard. With flaming ears he fled towards the stairs.
“It’s been an eventful day, I’m going to bed. Don’t want to spoil your reunion.”
For a moment Aragorn and Boromir stared flabbergasted after the fleeing man. Then slowly they turned to look at one another. At Boromir’s questioning gaze Aragorn silently opened his arms in a welcoming gesture. Moaning Boromir threw himself into the embrace, For minutes on end the two lovers stayed like this, clinging to one another as if their life depended on the contact of their bodies. Suddenly Boromir drew back with a stunned expression.
“What is it that Faramir spoke about before he run out as if the devil’d be after his soul? I know you heard it, but I just don’t know the meaning of the word. I’m the man of action in the family, not skilled with words like my brother and my King. What word can be bad enough to make my little brother flee my company?”
“Nothing to think about. A succubus is a kind of demon, coming at night to steel a man’s seed.” Aragorn softly nibbled his way to his lover’s ear. “Forget about it now, we have a better task at hand.”
Boromir moaned deeply at the sensual assault and let his lips be captured in a deep and searing kiss. Tongues danced around one another, delving deep into welcoming caverns, teeth nipped playfully on pliant lips and bodies molded together, eager to become one. Straining hardness met straining hardness, rubbing together in desperate need for friction. But still something was nagging at the back of Boromir’s mind. Panting he finally broke the kiss.
“Did you just tell me that my little brother would have welcomed me even if I’d been a demon coming only to steal his seed?”
“Don’t tell me you’d never noticed how Faramir’s feeling about you.” Aragorn was a little annoyed at the sudden interrupt. “But you can discuss this with him tomorrow. How would you like sleeping in the bed of a King tonight?”
Alone in his room Faramir tried in vain to get some sleep. Sensual pictures kept torturing his mind. His brother spreading his legs wide for his lover; Aragorn’s hand gently stroking over his brother’s pulsating erection; Aragorn’s mouth kissing away the pearl of precome forming on his brother’s slit; Aragorn’s hard member gliding slowly into his brother’s tight channel; his brother moaning in bliss at being filled to the hilt, his brother’s face melted in rapture as Aragorn brought him over the edge. Groaning Faramir reached for the bottle of oil he kept on his bedside-table, coating his hands liberally with the viscous fluid. Moaning he reached for his throbbing length, pulling back the foreskin with one hand, the palm of the other gliding in circles over the swollen head. He let the images of his brother being pleasured exquisitely by his lover wash over his mind, crying out in bliss at the intensity of his lust. His head thrashed from side to side as the vivid pictures grew more and more passionate. His own moans turned into the moans of his brother as he felt one with him in pure rapture. Moving one hand between his legs he circled his clenching hole with slick fingers. Oh how he longed for feeling his brother’s touch down there, how he longed to have his body penetrated by his brother’s swollen hardness. He pushed two fingers deep into his body, arching his back in bliss at the thought of them being his brother’s cock. Faster and faster his hands moved over and into his body as he imagined Aragorn’s member pounding deep into his brother’s channel. He could smell his brother’s arousal, see him writher under his lover’s skillful ministrations, heard him scream in utter bliss, as he neared a mind-blowing orgasm. With a hoarse cry Faramir spilled his seed, the name of his brother still trembling on his lips. Sated and relaxed he sunk back into his pillows. But his rest proved to be a short one, the images came back, even brighter in intensity. Time and again Faramir had to reach down to quell his unruly flesh, ere he fell into an exhausted sleep.
The next morning found Faramir strolling through the secluded part of the garden. The thunderstorm had passed during the night and a bright sun warmed the day. He hadn’t seen Boromir and Aragorn when he had a short breakfast, maybe they weren’t up already. Or maybe they were up, but to another task. The mere thought of the lovers being together made Faramir’s groin tingle. Somewhere during the night the young Steward had made up his mind. Now that his brother had surprisingly come back to life, he wouldn’t pass the opportunity again. He would have his way with him ere the day was over. In a certain way he was convinced that Aragorn wouldn’t mind him joining in.
Lost in his thoughts Faramir didn’t notice the approach of the two men. They were still in riding gear, having made a short morning ride. Only when they were already standing at his side he looked up startled, blushing at the thoughts of them that had occupied his mind.
“What has you so deep in thoughts that you don’t pay attention to the arrival of your big brother and your King?” Noticing Faramir’s deepening blush Aragorn chuckled, casting a knowing glance at his lover, who was barely able to hide his own embarrassment.” Seeing the healthy color of your face it must be something very nice. Care to share?” the young Steward wasn’t sure if he’d only imagined the amused wink in the King’s eyes.
“Faramir,” clearing his throat Boromir tried to break the sudden tension, “you haven’t told me what happened during my absence. Let’s take a seat and tell me. Where’s father?”
Sitting down on the lush grass Faramir moved close to his older brother. As close as he dared without making the not-so-secret-anymore object of his desire shy away.
“Father’s dead. He thought I’d died in an attack and wanted to burn me on a pyre. But he died himself in the attempt.”
“Gods! And I haven’t been there to keep you save!” Instinctively Boromir slung his arms around his younger brother, burying his face in his chest.
“Well, you have been dead yourself at this time.” Faramir wriggled in his brother’s embrace until he was lying comfortably over Boromir’s lap. “Seems to run in the family. But it takes more than a little death, to eliminate the Invincible Brothers of Gondor. I was rescued by Gandalf.”
“Gandalf!?” Boromir suddenly sat upright. “But he’s dead!”
“Him too? And he isn’t even family!” Faramir smiled into his brother’s shocked face. “Well, aren’t we a great bunch of undead? Didn’t your lover tell you what happened, or were you to busy with other things to keep you updated?” Grinning in Aragorn’s direction he noticed a very unkingly pout gracing the King’s face. “What’s awry, my liege, do you feel left out?”
“Here you are, having gloriously died in battle only to come back to life afterwards.” Aragorn’s pout still would have been the pride of every little child. “I’m the only one to have not died at all. I’ve led the Army of the Dead to battle, but I’ve been feeling very alive all the time.”
“Oh my poor King!” The young Steward couldn’t suppress his chuckle any longer. “You’ve never died? Not even a little bit? Think hard, my liege, maybe there has been something.”
“Well, maybe there has really been something.” Aragorn’s brow was furrowed as he thought hard. “On the road to Helms Deep I fell off a cliff, battling a warg. I fell into a river and my friends weren’t able to find me, so they thought I’d be dead. But my horse woke me and I came back just in time to fight a war. Does that count?”
“What do you think, brother mine, should we let it count?” Faramir wriggled in the older man’s lap until he could feel a telltale hardness poking his butt. Smiling broadly at his brother’s increasing embarrassment he nodded to himself. “As he is our King, and as I think I’ll need his help with a certain brother of mine, I’d vote for making it count. Welcome to the club, my King.” Deliberately pressing his butt against the growing erection Faramir held out his hand, beckoning his King to join them.
Quickly Aragorn moved behind his lover, enfolding both younger men in his embrace.
“Now I want to know more about those Invincible Brothers of Gondor. You’ve made me curious.”
“When Faramir was a little boy I used to tell him stories of the Invincible Brothers of Gondor whenever he was sad or frightened. He used crawl into my bed, cuddling against me and we told stories about the most amazing adventures. Two brothers, slaying the most fierce dragons, defeating the strongest enemies, rescuing every maiden in distress. I used to hold him in my arms until he’d fallen asleep”
“And who did get the maidens in distress after they’d been saved?”
“None of us did, we were not interested in the maidens, only in rescuing them.”
“Later we rescued pretty elves.” Faramir buried his nose in the leather of his brother’s riding tunic, deeply inhaling the intriguing scent. “I’ve been really scared by your sudden return yesterday. And I didn’t sleep well, had those dreams, you know. so please hold me in your arms and tell me a story.”
“But you’re a big boy now, little brother, no need for…“Suddenly Boromir sat straight upright. “Faramir, what … what are you doing? Are you sniffing me?”
“Hmm, smells so good, you, leather and a hint of horse. Never can get enough of it.”
“Did you hear that, my liege?” Boromir glanced at his lover in only half-mock shock. “Here I am, freshly back from death, only to find out that my innocent little brother has turned into a perverse sex-monster. But to think of it, I remember having caught him with his nose in my riding gear once and as hard as I tried not to see it, I couldn’t but notice the bulge in my little brother’s leggings.”
“I’ve got my first hard on sniffling your gear. And I’ve got a hard on now. Please Boromir, touch me.” Moving his brother’s hand towards the straining erection Faramir met stubborn resistance. He could feel that the older man was as aroused as he was, could feel his pulsating length throbbing under his back, but still Boromir would not give in to his longing. “My King and lord, please help me with this thickheaded oaf of a big brother.”
“It wouldn’t be right.” Trembling with need Boromir tried to gather his last strands of willpower to withstand the freely offered temptation. “You’re my little brother, it just wouldn’t be right.”
“Didn’t we just state that we all died and have come back to life.” Faramir was determined to break his brother’s resistance. “Why should we care for the inhibitions of mortals?”
“There he’s got a point.” Aragorn murmured into his lover’s ear. “I know that you want him as much as he wants you. Look at him, he’s aching, his leggings are almost bursting. How can you turn away when he’s so clearly suffering.” Slowly he guided the now unresisting hand to the place were would be welcomed so very much. “I’ll be with you, guiding you through this. We can take him together, giving him all the pleasure he deserves. Kiss him, love, his lips are begging for it.”
Faramir’s hips bolted as two hands moved over his heated groin, rubbing and kneading his almost painfully swollen hardness. When a moist mouth descended on his lips and a wet and agile tongue sought entrance he was swept away in sensual overload. His body went rigid and he cried his bliss into Boromir’s mouth as he shook in the violent spasms of a most intense release. Gently the two older men caressed him through the aftermaths, holding him in a loving embrace until his body finally ceased to twist and tremble. When Faramir finally came back from the waves of ultimate rapture he smiled dreamily at his new lovers.
Boromir desperately tried to rein in his feelings, but having his brother in his arms, thrashing in lust and abandon, dragging his hips over his engorged length with every movement was more than he was able to bear. When Faramir cried his bliss into his mouth and his body convulsed in the throes of passion, Boromir too found himself unable to hold back any longer. Groaning he let the waves of rapture wash over him, spilling his seed in almost never-ending spurts.
“Two splendid examples of manhood you are.” Aragorn smiled fondly at the tow man, lying still heavy panting in his arms. “Coming in your pants like two horny teenagers. What shall I do with you? Well, first I think I should get you out of these wet cloths ere you catch a cold.” Smirking impishly he started to unbuckle Boromir’s belt.
Turning around Boromir spotted a most fondly remembered place. “Is the old hammock still there? Let’s go over there, it will be so much more comfortable. And then, little one,” taking Faramir in a fierce embrace he pulled a face at the cooling wetness in his leggings, “You’ll get your most secret desires granted in abundance.”
Once having reached the hammock swinging under a bunch of trees the three men quickly donned their clothes. Aragorn let his hands glide over his Steward’s smooth chest.
“What are your most secret desires, tell us about them to make us able to make them real.”
“Well, there’s one thing,” despite everything that had happened between the three of them, Faramir still managed to blush, “would you please put on your gloves?”
“Gloves!” Raising his eyebrows Aragorn looked at his lover. “Quite a kinky one your little brother, and you kept telling me he would be innocent. If I’d only known I’d have had my wicked way with him all these months.”
“You didn’t? What a waste! Can you explain why you let a beauty like my brother stay untouched for even a couple of hours?”
“Think we waited for you to join in. Didn’t want you to feel left out.” Aragorn touched his lover’s lips in a tender kiss, a kiss that turned deeper more fervent by the minute. They devoured each other, moaning and groaning as their bodies moved together in a sensual dance.
Entranced Faramir stared at the enticing picture. they were perfect, even more perfect than he’d imagined them in his most vivid dreams. Their bodies moved in unison, straining hardness gliding over straining hardness in an ever-increasing rhythm. the sounds they were making rang like heavenly music in the Steward’s ears. This was so much better than any dream could be. Faramir’s own member rose with newfound ardor. He couldn’t keep his hand from reaching down to lessen the most urgent need. the strangled moan that escaped his mouth made his companions break apart and turn towards him.
Boromir almost came from the sight that greeted his eyes. his brother’s flushed face staring in wide-eyed abandon at them, his hand gripped firmly around his throbbing shaft.
“Like what you see?” Predator like Aragorn had approached the panting young man, pulling his leather riding glove over one of his hands. “Another secret obsession of yours? Do you envision Boromir and me having sex when you jerk off? Do you wank to our images?”
Moaning Faramir leaned back in the hammock as a soft warm palm and rough leather roamed over his body. Soon an equal pair joined in leaving the young man squirming in utter abandon. Leather clad fingers tweaked his nipples in a most delicious way, soft palms moved over the sensitive skin of his belly.
“Tell me what you dream of! Tell me to what pictures you come wanking alone in your bed. Tell me so that we can make your dreams come true.” Two mouths whispered seductive words in Faramir’s ears, both voices rough with arousal.
“Ere or after I knew of you being together?” Clinging to the last shreds of sanity Faramir managed to stammer a coherent answer.
“Both!” the voices whispered in unison.
“Boromir taking me, burying his thick rod deep inside my body making me see stars with every deep thrust, making me come so hard … ah, yes,… so hard.” Wincing under the skillful touches of both, gloves and hands, Faramir reached for his aching hardness. “Then Aragorn pounding deep into Boromir, making him moan and scream with pleasure.”
“He did this to me last night, you know. Had me screaming on top of my lungs.” Boromir’s gloved hand moved lower between his brother’s legs to gently cup the sensitive globes. Faramir cried out in rapture as his tender balls were encircled by a grip of leather. His hand moved faster over his erection, already feeling the telltale tingle of impending release surging through his body.
“Don’t come!” Aragorn’s thumb pressed firmly against the underside of Faramir’s painfully hard length, at the very last moment thwarting his nearing climax. “Can’t have you come now, there’s so much more in store for you. I’ll give you something to help you last.” With nimble finger he wound a leather band round the steely hardness.
Faramir cried out in frustration at having his release inhibited in such a cruel way.
“So you’re dreaming about my cock pounding into your tight hole.” Boromir’s hand continued the gentle massage of his brother’s heavy pouch. “Do you fuck yourself with your fingers, imagining them to be my cock?”
“Fingers,” Faramir was reduced to a whimpering bundle, almost unable to form coherent words. “Fingers and … ah, you’re cruel, … things.”
“Things?” Aragorn traced Faramir’s hidden entrance. “You put things up there pretending it to be Boromir’s cock? Naughty little boy you are. Care for having a taste of the real thing? Care for having your brother’s cock inside you for real? And me taking him, pushing him even deeper into your channel?”
A heartfelt groan and the twisting of the bound rod was all the King of Gondor needed as an answer. Holding up his gloved and his naked hand he cast a questioning glance at the writhing young man.
“I’ll open you up for him, which one shall I take?”
Far beyond words Faramir traced his tongue over his lust-swollen lips, looking longingly at the gloved digits. Spreading his legs wide in blatant invitation he whimpered with need.
“Now look at your brother, love, shamelessly putting himself on display for us to see all of his hidden treasures. I’ll prepare him for you, his heat will feel so good around your cock.”
“Hurry up, love, I don’t know how long I’ll be able to wait.” Boromir’s arousal was standing firm and hard, precome already dripping out of the slit. “And then you’ll enter me, no need for any preparation, I’m still open from last night and you know how much I love the little burn.”
Coating his leather-clad fingers with oil Aragorn continued to circle the clenching hole, slowly pushing one digit past the guardian muscle. Faramir cried out in bliss at the most welcomed intrusion, the slightly rough material causing the most wonderful sensations surging through his body. His head thrashed from side to side as he was opened at a slow but steady pace. When the second digit breached his body, opening him even wider he started to beg.
“Ah please… like that, please … now… fill me … more … aaahhh!” A keening wail rose from his lips as the rough leather came into contact with the center of his pleasure.
Withdrawing his fingers, causing another keening wail, Aragorn nodded at his lover.
“Think he’s as ready as he can be.”
Moaning Boromir positioned his steely length at the quivering opening, pushing inside with one steady motion. Faramir screamed on top of his lungs as his most secret fantasy finally came true. Knowing that it was his beloved brother filling him to the hilt, bringing him so much pleasure made stars of rapture explode in front of his eyes.
Suddenly Boromir ceased his movements, getting rigid with a loud moan. Irritated Faramir opened his eyes, only to see his Brother’s face contorted in a heavenly mixture of bliss and pain, even more beautiful than he’d been able to imagine in his hottest dreams. Behind him he could see Aragorn slowly entering his lover’s body. Groaning he dragged his brother in a deep kiss, feeling every single moment of the penetration through Boromir’s shuddering body.
Moaning Boromir started to move back and forth, impaling himself on the intruding hardness and pushing forth into the welcoming heat of his brother’s channel, all the time shudders of bliss whacking his body.
Once fully seated Aragorn started to thrust into his lover in earnest, driving him still deeper into Faramir’s yielding Body. This time the brothers yelled out their bliss in unison, their voices mingling in one keening wail.
“So good … ah please… can’t hold back any longer … need to come, please … gods, so good … let me come, please let me come, … AAAHHH GODS, GODS”
The mingled screams and moans of his lovers only made Aragorn increase his pace. His own breath coming in harsh gusts he drove his steely rod deep into his lover, savoring Faramir’s answering cry of bliss as he too was breached deeply. Feeling the tingle of impending release he reached between his lovers’ bodies, quickly undoing the strip of leather keeping Faramir from finding his much-needed peak of utter bliss.
As soon as he had wrapped his hand around the now unbound member, Faramir arched up in a perfect bow, his whole body clenching under the onslaught of his climax. The tightening of the already tight channel triggered a chain reaction of rapture. At the first clenching motion Boromir’s overloaded senses gave way, letting him tumble into a vortex of ecstasy. Joining into his brother’s wail of lust he spilled his seed to the last drop deep into the hot channel. Only a split-second later Aragorn’s body shook, his hands clenching Boromir’s hips hard enough to leave marks as his voice joined in the choir of rapture.
For endless moments the secluded garden rang with the song of threefold lust. Collapsing into a boneless bundle the three lovers cuddled together, letting the aftermaths of their most intense release wash over them.
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