Concentration

The fan clicked and whirred above their heads. The circular wind it generated wasn’t enough to make a difference. But he didn’t care. His skin, covered in sweat, stuck tacky and warm to the couch when he moved; if he moved. But for now he was still, holding his breath and as still as he could ever be. She was intense both with the way her eyes stared up at him and with the way her mouth worked softly over his desire. Who really cared about how hot is was anyway?

Eyes, Couch, Warm, Softly, Intense

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