[Sinclair bites into it, then buries his face against his arms, the flush reaching the tips of his ears as he muffles those sounds. He feels so hot, and every time Oria thrusts forward, Sinclair presses back, desperate and needy to keep feeling the way that strap-on feels in him, thick and solid, oddly warm with the lube. But more importantly, is Oria's warm pressed against his back, the reminder Oria has him, can steady him when he begins to lose his mind.]
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