“These poor people,” Eli sighs mournfully. “I bet they all have unsatisfying missionary sex once a year, then lie awake at night dreaming of getting fucked in the ass. I bet—” “Lube,” Cole interrupts. There’s a few beats of silence. “I know you’re a bit of a caveman, Nalle,” Eli says, “but that has to be the weirdest one-word sentence you’ve ever come out with.” Cole growls in my ear. “Does anybody have any.” Eli scoffs. “If you think that I’m sharing my extra-tingly, heating, cherry-flavoured super-glide female-stimulating lubricant, you have another think coming.” “You’re willing to
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