“Ryke,” I start again, and my sharp gasps return, piercing cries attached that come in succession. “Ahhh…ahhhh…” Oh God. Oh God. “Dais,” he groans, one of his hands on the back of my head. “Fuck.” Fuck is right. Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuckkk.
IT CAN NEVER BE THAT GOOD BRO. I CANNOTT.
