#219187 - Sarachan could feel Brentt's heartrate increasing, and bit his neck harder, tasting him, until he felt Brentt buck and twitch violently in his hand, felt the warm wet of his essence as it spilt on the clearing floor, and knew his own end was inevitable His breath rasping against Brentt's shoulder, he drove in one final time, emptying himself into the man, the release as exquisite as the taste of his blood. Brentt almost collapsed when he felt a pair of hard, cold points on the side of his neck. The man.
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