Sometimes I like to think of the Hawke siblings tangled up together in a single corn shuck mattress, heads pillowed on shoulders, arms going numb, somebody drooling on somebody else and always, somebody stealing the covers from Carver.
And then other times I devote a great deal of brainpower to who Bethany is rubbing herself up against, who's got their hands gripping her leg, lifting it up so they can slide in her pussy together, Bethany's head falling back against their shoulder with an open mouthed sigh that got lost somewhere along the way and became this strangled thing, half shout half moan, reaching behind her to tangle her fingers in their hair to brace herself while two pairs of hands grip tight on her hips, slamming into her, and I got lost again because I'm a giant pervert.