minimono



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    "Sixty-forty," Aerion gasped, his hands braced on Dunk's shoulders for leverage. "You get the bigger cut because you're mine. In the ring, in here, mine." He ground down hard, chasing his own pleasure.

    Dunk's head fell back against the chair, the whiskey nearly empty now, its haze blurring the edges of his restraint. "Yes—fuck, yes, Aerion," he rasped, hips jerking up to meet each descent. “Anything… anything you want.”

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    12 Feb 2026