Souls of the Night Vol 3 Chapter 21: 21 - Offset, a gargoyles fanfic

Souls of the Night – Vol3

21.

Accompanying music at the beginning of the chapter:

Youtube: Marilyn Manson - The Beautiful People [Guitar Cover with Tabs] or normal Marilyn Manson Beautiful people

Enya sat wide-legged in front of a pile of bits and pieces on the concrete floor of the basement of their home wearing only boxer shorts and a Big Bang Theory T-shirt. One of Brentwood's but between siblings you shared everything (Except Thailog. Thailog didn't share anything and everything he owned belonged only to him including any money she earned but they got pocket money for groceries and " human shit") and pretty much everything in the house that didn't belong to Thailog belonged to her AND Brentwood together and she liked to smell like him. The cold had been seeping through her thin pants for a long time, her knees and calves were chafed from crouching here for days on end but she felt alive when it hurt and hurting was love and she loved Brentwood so she let herself hurt for the project he wanted. Well- it wasn't really what he wanted. He had something in mind that wasn't going to work so this was HIS project that he said he didn't need.

Rammstein's "Barbarians" (yes, sometimes she felt the need for fake but pretty cool german-ness, which she blamed on the real Doctor Sevarius) began the rhythmic drone of Marilyn Manson's "Beautiful people" from the headphones.

And I don't want you and I don't need you

Don't bother to resist, or I'll beat you

It's not your fault that you're always wrong

The weak ones are there to justify the strong

The beautiful people, the beautiful people

It's all relative to the size of your steeple

You can't see the forest for the trees

You can't smell your own shit on your knees

Yes, she had missed that. Spotify wasn't available in Russia and she hadn't been allowed to listen to her downloaded songs there. They'd even taken away her phone and Enya wished some of the agents who'd cracked it had been properly traumatized by the porn on it. For that alone, she had made a few of the future mammoths' genes a little more defective than they should have been (nothing wild, just their feces would be a little more runny for life and they would drool immense amounts all the time - just things that couldn't be blamed on her because no one had ever known a real mammoth because maybe they had had constant diarrhea, weak sphincters and hypersalivation).

There's no time to discriminate

Hate every motherfucker

That's in your way

Hey you, what do you see?

Something beautiful or something free?

Hey, you, are you trying to be mean?

If you live with apes man, it's hard to be clean

Oh yes, Marilyn had found such wise words back then. She was so happy to be back home with normal people like Thailog and Brent. Too much contact with humans made her uncomfortable because they constantly made her feel like she wasn't okay even though she was probably one of the most perfect beings on the planet apart from Thailog and Brent. She could listen to music again. Enya loved music because Brentwood had taught her to love it as he had taught her many things. Thailog a little too, but his contribution had been more ... well, accidental.

Enya began to sway on the floor, not concentrating any less on assembling the parts that had come with the Amazon shipment earlier. Engineering hadn't been her "main subject" but she was a total package woman when it came to personal projects. Later, the shipment of sterilized water had been announced. The job of a mad scientist was so much easier thanks to Amazon.

The worms will live in every host

It's hard to pick which one they eat the most

The horrible people, the horrible people

It's as anatomic as the size of your steeple

Capitalism has made it this way

Old-fashioned fascism will take it away

Hey you, what do you see?

Something beautiful or something free?

Hey, you, are you trying to be mean?

If you live with apes man, it's hard to be clean

There's no time to discriminate

Hate every motherfucker

That's in your way

The beautiful people

The beautiful people (aahh)

The beautiful people

The beautiful people (aahh)

The beautiful people

The beautiful people (aahh)

The beautiful people

The beautiful people (aahh)

Enya got something hard (but not too hard) thrown against the back of her head for humming along to the chorus. She grunted something affirmative because she imagined she could hear his nagging quietly behind the music. Yes, not humming, not singing. Singing was forbidden. This was not a house where people sang loudly. But she was glad that the master was spending his time here in the cellar with her. They had figured out that this was probably a hatchling instinct to seek closeness to the clan and kin. Thailog was not lonely, of course! He was the smartest and most powerful person in the world. At least he would be the most powerful individual again one day. Until then, every hour he deigned to spend with Brentwood or her could be considered an honor.

Hey you, what do you see?

Something beautiful or something free?

Hey, you, are you trying to be mean?

If you live with apes man, it's hard to be clean

Hey you, what do you see?

Something beautiful or something free?

Hey, you, are you trying to be mean?

If you live with apes man, it's hard to be clean

The beautiful people

Enya lifted her head and sniffed as the smell of burnt meat reached her nose. Brentwood couldn't have been back yet, let alone started cooking, and even if he had, nothing would burn. He hadn't had a failed dish in years.

She pulled the headphones off her head and looked at Thailog, who had of course smelled it before she did (her senses were good- but not gargoyle-good). The Master, slouching in a worn armchair where only he was allowed to sit (everyone knew why) was of course back in his, even as a child, marvelous looking gargoyle form, scrunching up his face in a cute disgusted way and looking up from his tablet computer to the ceiling where there was a loud thud. Then the door to the cellar was pulled open and Brentwood came hobbling in on two legs.

Thailog grinned gleefully as Brentwood crawled through the room, visibly injured and breathing heavily. He didn't need to say 'I told you so'. Even if the plan had been a good one, Thailog would not have taken part in stealing the mate of one of the worms from the Manhattan clan because the danger would have been far too great that he would have encountered his nemesis, as he called her, in the conflict. In his current form, he might be able to fight Kermit - but not any of the larger gargoyles or anyone with Fey powers. Of course, he'd be deceitful and smart enough to take them out himself as a kid - but why waste resources when all he had to do was wait, keeping everyone lulled into a sense of security until he was back to his old self (or at least allowed to go to a PG-13 movie as a human without showing his "parents'" permission). Then he would strike, harder, smarter, more ruthless than ever before while the Manhattan clan only got older, fatter, softer and more humanized.

Brentwood had reached Enya, dropped a bundle he had brought with him, crouched a little crestfallen beside her and looked at her with his beautiful cherry-red eyeballs with their white pupils. One pupil was not so white because his eye was bloody. In addition, his entire neck was covered in blistering, half-burnt skin that it was a miracle he could still breathe. Enya wanted to smell it and run her tongue over that destroyed skin to taste the damage, but Brent didn't look like he was receptive right now.

"Not as expected?" she asked quietly and Brentwood grumbled softly and nodded. The rattle coming from his throat was worrying but he wouldn't have made it back if he didn't make it to sunrise. Only first she would have to clean his wounds or he would be left with ugly scar tissue. Although the thought of a Brentwood with deep permanent scars was extremely sexy. Her head jerked to the side as it usually did when the particular cogs responsible for this strange feeling began to move. It was a glitch, Brentwood had once called it a glitch. Like in Wreck-it Ralph. A glitch wasn't necessarily a flaw - it was ... like a bonus level that was unlocked by certain actions of a player. Yes - so she understood it (herself) a little better. Enya shook her head. She would have to go out today and find someone to fuck. Whenever she had these thoughts about her "brother", she had to do that. There was nothing wrong with her but Brentwood wouldn't bang her (not the way she needed to be banged and get her money's worth.) The doctor had done a good job on Brentwood back then when he had drilled into him that he was not allowed to penetrate his "sister", not allowed to permanently injure her body without it serving a higher purpose (like serving as a vessel - which was pretty much obsolete since 2009). So Enya had to settle for these pathetic, usually far too soft humans to scratch her itch.

"He didn't want you? That idiot," Enya said incredulously and Thailog in his seat laughed out loud and slapped a hand over his eyes.

"Quelle surprise!" he remarked mockingly and shrill in french.

She patted Brentwood's back and he winced, one of the sharp protrusions of his spine had been shattered by something. He must be in tremendous pain apart from his neck, and not the kind of pain that would make you come. She gently stroked the taut, roasted skin of his neck and felt it grow damp between her legs as he squeezed his eyes shut in pain. She had told him the story that this new gargoyle could burst into flames, but he hadn't believed her. That would teach him a lesson.

"Too bad all your planning didn't pay off. You've been tracking and watching him all week to catch him on his fixed flight pattern. The recording device with my voice was good too."

"No one appreciates good preparation anymore," Thailog purred with dripping irony. Brentwood raised his head and smiled broadly at him, either because he (like Enya) didn't understand fully that it wasn't praise or because every word that confirmed his existence was valuable to him. Enya at least suspected that Thailog had not meant it respectfully. She had taken Brentwood's half-baked plan to conquer Lexington's mate as a sign that after all these years he was finally tired of focusing on a male who was so superior, so ahead of them, so overpowering in mind and body, that it was understandable that he would never be Brentwood's mate. The best they could both ever be to the Master were small assets, tools to achieve his goals. That was very honorable, Brent knew that, she knew that. But never more. Enya had somewhat envied Brentwood for wanting to take control of Kermit's mate, for believing others could scratch his itch and reduce the longing Brentwood had. And Enya would have liked the idea of having a bigger clan. If this little firebug was as kinky as Brentwood had told her (Was fucking on a roof particularly kinky?), he might not have been averse to not only being Brent's mate but fucking her as well. This gargoyle wouldn't have been subject to the doctor's exaggerated programming and could have hurt her so wonderfully.

But ... if Brentwood had gone overboard in his story ... if he had only made things up out of wishful thinking...

"That gargoyle didn't want you? "

"Despite the nice graveyard atmosphere and the chains? I'm completely stunned," Thailog mumbled disinterestedly and looked at his tablet computer again, rolling his eyes.

This time they both ignored him because if he didn't look at them, he wouldn't appreciate their reactions to him. Enya leaned towards Brent and rubbed his thigh comfortingly. His fly was still open.

"Did you do everything right?" she whispered softly. Thailog heard everything anyway, but she always liked it when Brent pricked up his ears like he was doing now.

"Did he bleed? Shackles all tight? Did you scratch his skin? Did he fight back and swear at you? He even bit you? But he didn't want sex? Not even after you broke his tail? And he didn't think the names were okay either?"

He nodded continuously while Enya enumerated, confirming or denying this and that, but he already had enough trouble breathing normally and was not a good conversationalist. When she had finished, Enya let her hand rest on his thigh. Brent had an erection by now from the memories of his experience with this "Nate".

"What's wrong with this guy?" mumbled Enya, confused. Brentwood had done everything right. But the wimp had rejected him as a mate and as a sexual partner. Even though he was so much better and more right in every way than that pathetic Manhattan Clan Kermit with his stupid white googly eyes and ordinary spine. She would have spread her legs and begged for more at the first scratch across her ribcage and the first insult. His fragmentary narrative alone had made her feel warm despite the cold concrete floor.

Brentwood leaned against her, sighing softly. The grief of rejection weighed so heavily on him. Enya wanted so much to help him.

She lifted the part to which she had attached the small screws and tubes and pointed to the large, almost ceiling-high tank with the plexiglass window in the corner of the room that she had been cleaning and working on for the last few days to prepare it for its use.

"I'll have everything ready for plan B soon. I know you wanted to claim Kermit's mate, but he's obviously too fixated on the green worm. He's blind - let him be blind. If you bring me a sample I'll make you something better. Like we're better than them. Okay?"

Brentwood looked up at Enya and smiled sadly, making her heart flutter.

"Okay," he croaked and grabbed the bundle he had brought. As he flipped the black fabric aside, she saw that it was a pair of black pants caked in blood. And a broken baseball bat whose wood was also discolored with coagulated blood. Enya got up, went to the table and swabbed the pants and bat with sterile swabs and tiny spatulas. Everything was dusty, dirty and mostly clotted and she wasn't quite sure if she would get enough usable material. But she was no bungler. She had the experience of almost two lifetimes. She heard Brentwood behind her, groaning as he rose to all fours and felt him pull himself up her bare leg. His claws stroking her skin made her itch even though he was painfully gentle. He leaned against her, visibly weakened (perhaps a little doubtful and therefore downcast as to whether plan B would work out), to watch her secure samples and cobble together his future mate from dust and dirt. She loved the feeling of playing God. She loved Brentwood enough to give him what he craved.

She wanted their nameless clan to grow, but Thailog had never given her the order, perhaps because he didn't think he could control a bunch of adult clones as a "child" (and didn't trust Enya to program other beings to his will). She didn't like taking others' selves or forcing them into ways they didn't naturally fall in, perhaps because she herself had never been meant to develop her personality.

Finally, when she was sure she had gotten the best out of the encrusted materials and stored it in her nitrogen container, she leaned down to her brother, who was barely up to her tits. "I'll make you a mate. Just give me a few weeks. He'll be good, I can feel it."

Brentwood just made an absent-minded noise, stroking her inner thigh, lost in thought. The touch seemed sexual, but it wasn't for him. It shouldn't have been for Enya either because it didn't hurt. Still, she could feel the slickness running down her leg and Brent smearing it, seemingly unaware that she was aroused. Enya turned around. Thailog was gone. He always disappeared when he smelled that Enya was starting to stink like he said. If Brentwood thought so too, he had never said so.

"If it makes you feel a little better, I can suck your cock," she said accommodatingly but not totally altruistic.

Brentwood nodded without blinking.

I looked at my cell phone as we walked through the corridors. Nathaniel hadn't responded to my multiple text messages. Nor to my call. But his phone had been telling me for half an hour that he was back at the castle. And in his room. Had he forgotten that we were supposed to fly patrol with Heather? He had been so looking forward to it himself. Heather crawled up next to me, already in her cute uniform with "GC - Rookie" embroidered on it. Right next to that was a patch with Debuty Copper from my little Pony. Not particularly professional but so cute that the sight alone prevented quite a few small quarrels between humans. Sometimes I got the impression that Heather made an art out of turning not her fey skills but her cuteness into her superpower - something that was always better than letting things die. When I opened the door to Nathaniel's room, I was stunned. The warm steam shrouded his room in a thick fog. His bathroom door was open and the water from the shower was running. But that didn't startle me. It was the smell of blood, fear and anger in a strange mixture that caused a knot in my stomach. I saw his underwear lying on the floor outside the bathroom. Even fireproof fabric was not completely immune to high heat and burned after a few minutes. The fabric was singed.

"Nate burned," Heather voiced my thoughts.

"Yes."

I cleared my throat and held Heather back by the tail as she tried to crawl across the room to the bathroom to see what was going on.

"Heather!" I hissed, clearing my throat because my voice sounded small and shrill just from the feeling everything here conveyed.

"Heather," I repeated in my rookery keeper voice, setting her on her feet even though she wanted to protest loudly.

"Uncle Nate won't be flying patrol today. Neither am I. Something's happened and I need to find out what."

"But ... the others trust us to cover Hoboken," Heather said, simultaneously huffy and worried.

I stroked her cheek.

"Please go to the communications room and tell Tachi to have someone else cover the route. Not tonight. Sorry, sweetheart, I'll make it up to you somehow. But I think Uncle Nate needs this night to himself."

The hatchling looked at the underpants on the floor with her lower lip pushed forward. Was that blood on the waistband? She probably saw it too.

"If he's hurt himself, should I get some bandages from the infirmary?"

I smiled at my attentive hatchling.

"No, my darling. Just go to Tachi. No one needs to check on us. I'll take care of Nate. Tell that to the others." A little unsettled, she walked away, looking back at me questioningly at the end of the corridor. I waved her away, forcing myself to offer a reassuring smile, which probably didn't have a reassuring effect. Then she disappeared completely. I closed the door behind me and turned the key (of course this probably didn't stop anyone except Tachi and Heather, but still). I took a deep breath, the air stuffy with smells and water vapor. Then I walked into the bathroom. My prince was standing in the walk-in shower, his blue hue clearly visible even through the frosted glass.

I hadn't heard it at first because of the pattering water on his wings, but now I heard him sobbing quietly.

"Nate."

The sobbing stopped. Silence, silent pondering but with bitter-smelling waves of anxiety and uncertainty.

"Go away, please," my vitreous prince then said in a voice as if he had been crying. A lot of crying.

"Nathaniel, what happened?" I said in the softest tone because I had learned (even before the psychiatrist) that Nate didn't take it well when I jumped on him with worry and caring. Currently, I was convinced that he must have had a panic attack from something and was now upset about it. But last time I had been able to comfort him and this time I would bring him out of his depths too. He was scared - I could smell it. I would overwrite the smell with other emotions.

"Please Lexington! I can-. I just...let me be alone," he whimpered as I removed my clothes, laying them neatly over the edge of the sink. Everything but my T-shirt and underpants. It was so hard to get the Kevlar vest dry again (when it rained, we always had to empty all the pockets to drain the water and let it dry inside out so it didn't get sporey and moldy in the pockets). And my pants were brand new, so I wasn't too keen on getting them completely soaked. Since I was probably on Nathaniel-comforting duty today (much better and - sorry, New York - more important than flying patrol) I didn't have to face him fully dressed and give him the impression that he had a duty to fulfill that he couldn't do tonight. He was allowed to be weak. He didn't have to function one hundred percent at all times. None of us had to.

I took one of the big fluffy towels I would wrap him in in a moment and stepped into the Walk-In shower past the frosted glass. I didn't even notice how the towel slipped from my fingers. I didn't even notice how my heart stumbled and I gasped for air. Because of the sight of Nate. He was standing with his back to me, but the intense fog wasn't coming from warm water (not only) but also from himself as the water hit his wings, their veins glowing faintly orange with magical heat. His wing bars near his back were scraped almost to the bone, his tail hung in a very cramped position and was swollen and kinked at his rump as if it were broken. He WAS broken, by the dragon, damn it!

"Nate!" I gasped, and he flinched, looking at me with fear in his eyes. He had a massive laceration on his temple that was still oozing blood, one of his eyes was bloodshot, and his ribs, his entire torso, was covered in cuts like he'd rolled in glass. Even his cheeks were cut open and darkly swollen

As I stepped towards him, he backed up to the wall and crouched down, groaning in pain and folding his wings over himself so I couldn't see him.

"Please. Go away. Let me be alone," he cried out of shame and shock I guessed.

"Did you ... get hit by a car? Or ... did you collide with something during flight?" I asked, horrified and wanting to slap myself for asking such stupid questions.

"Nate, it's okay. Accidents happen," I purred and gently stroked his bruised wing skins. He hissed and reached between his wings to slap my hand away. His eyes glowed cold white with anger - presumably at himself. I would find out where and how he had had his accident (or collision with whatever), but he was completely shaken up and in a turmoil, maybe he had a concussion. He had to lie down, I had to somehow get him calmer, more approachable and then into bed. Since I had backed away, Nate had his arms around himself again and was sobbing to himself.

"Please go!" he whispered, rocking back and forth.

"I can't leave you alone when you're so upset and hurt," I said sympathetically, my eyes falling on his groin for the first time. Because I had been so focused on the most obvious injuries, I hadn't even noticed. But Nate had a full-blown erection. He also noticed that I saw it and he cupped both hands over his private parts.

"It just won't go down. I don't want it to be up, but-" he started crying again and his whole body was shaking.

"It's okay Nate. Anxiety and adrenaline have that effect sometimes," I said

"I don't want to be like this. I want it to stop. But it's not going down," he said softly.

"Me, I'll take care of it. Come on, get out of the shower and into bed."

"I'm so cold. I want to stay here. And my head hurts so much!" He grabbed his skull, even through his closed eyelids I could see the white-blue agitated glow. I took a deep breath, weighing up whether the following was a good idea. Maybe not a good one - but one that would relieve him of this physical tension.

"Okay. Okay, then we'll stay here, I'll do what you want," I approached him. "I know what we're doing. I'll help you come down. You'll feel better afterwards," I said gently. It wasn't really one of my fantasies to sexually satisfy my injured, traumatized friend in the shower (I had no problem with the shower, but with the rest). But he was so tense that I didn't know how to get him out of here if not with this (aaand another topic for the shrink!). I knew Nate loved it when I caressed him. I would be so gentle that everything would fall away from him. Afterward, he would be more obedient, mellow and would let me tuck him into bed. It was unusual - okay. But if it made him more relaxed, I would volunteer.

I licked my lips and reached between his wings to his penis. Nate cried out, not in pain but in fear (fear of me?). I fell back on my ass and stared at him, by now we were both thoroughly wet. The sudden movement of his whole body must have caused him more pain. He clutched his tail cramped and glared at me with white-coated eyes, shaking like a leaf in the wind and damn, the sight made my eyes moist too. I wanted to press him about WHAT on earth had happened, but the sight of his crimson-colored, kinked tail alone made the question seem ridiculous. It wasn't what had happened that was important, but that the consequences were minimized.

"Okay, okay, bad idea. Not a situation to do that. It's okay. First ... I'll take care of your tail. It'll hurt less then, I promise."

Nathaniel shook his head with short, jerky movements

"Nate, honey, please," I pleaded. "We need to fix your tail, if you petrify like this, it'll stay crooked and it'll affect your balance. Maybe even as a human - I don't know. I ... will touch you. But only there. Only there, I promise. The pain is driving you mad, it will get better once the fracture is straightened."

He took several deep breaths and scrutinized me while his blue irises reappeared. His pupils were so dilated with shock that it was frightening. But he was brave. He pulled himself together and nodded. Tentatively, I brought my hands to his tail.

"Please. Please, don't hurt me. I can't, please. Not again-"

"It only hurts for a moment, don't be afraid."

I put my hands on his tail above and below the break. A quick jerk. We all knew how to fix broken bones. It would hurt him but it would be better afterwards.

He shrieked as I abruptly jerked the bones and joints back together. Instantly I had his claws in my upper arms, myself screaming in shock and pain. But Nate didn't react. I looked at his face and knew - without understanding why I knew it immediately - that my beloved was not in there at all! Again with white-blue glowing eyes and a hateful expression on his face, he yanked me up and slammed me with a bestial rumble against the wall that I heard tiles breaking and saw stars.

"NO!" he screamed in my face and I was convinced he wasn't talking to me. "I ! I decide my fate! Not HE and not you, you damn copy! I'm not a toy!"

He slammed me against the wall several times, the broken tiles cut into my back, robbing me of any clear thoughts and all air to appease, comfort, reason, plead. It hurt when he tore my underpants off, it hurt when he lifted me up and hauled me over the cracked, damp tiled wall into the position he wanted me in, it hurt when he pressed himself against me, it hurt when he pushed his member into me without any preparation and rutted into me deeper with every thrust. I groaned and now it was me who pressed my claws into his arms where he nearly robbed me of all air because he had wrapped his arms almost in a stranglehold around my neck. My heart was racing and my fragmented thoughts in my skull were swirling with confusion and bewilderment and I could do nothing but accept the situation as it was.

"No! No! You won't break me! Not again," Nate gasped between grunts and moans but most of all, tears kept running from his eyes. Everything was full of steam and the water was constantly pouring down on both of us, but he cried the whole time, his eyes tightly shut. And when the water and excitement finally allowed him to slide in and out of me a little more easily, my choppy sounds of pain slowly turned into moans and sighs that were not just pain but also increasingly pleasure. Something - OH, heavens, he was rubbing something inside me that felt good. Something that made my own erection grow and sent spasmodic electricity coursing down my spine. Putting my brain on a roller coaster ride and making my crotch ache but in a good, anticipatory way. Where my tail had always taken forever to find the right angle and build up enough friction and pressure in the many, many years of masturbation, with Nate or through Nate it happened automatically within minutes.

I had always thought of myself as a pragmatist. Someone who tried to make the best of a situation. It was so stuffy in here and I felt so full. And yes, it hurt, but it also started to feel good at the same time. I still didn't understand what was going on, but since there was nothing I could do anyway except well ... ride out Nathaniel's outburst. I might as well try to enjoy this unusual situation oscillating between pain and pleasure. I gasped for air and tore my claws from his flesh, which he only seemed to recognize with a grunt. His eyes were still not visible, his eyeballs clouded white, he was still not relly conscious. I didn't know which convolutions of his traumatized brain were at the steering wheel, but I did notice that he pricked up his ears when I moaned his name and gently wrapped my arms and legs around his torso. We both grumbled and bared our teeth at the new position and my willingness to give myself to him.

"It's okay, it's okay, Nate. It feels good. Just... a little slower. Thrust a little slower, okay?" I whispered, and sure enough, his movements became less ramming, less frantic.

"Okay, good, enjoy it. Let's enjoy it," I sighed and actually managed to grin. The whole act wasn't romantic, wasn't laced with gentleness and mutual consideration - but Nate's hot breath against my ear as he scraped his jaw horns against my cheek made me shiver. I wasn't sure where Nate was or how much he was aware of, but I guessed now he at least knew who I was.

"That's good. You're doing good," I praised, and I really meant it. He was SO hard and the sounds his body made as it interacted with mine, plus the dampness of the water keeping the friction to a minimum - that was something new. Oh that was good! I knew I shouldn't like any of this. But for fuck's sake, should I lie to myself about it?

"Fuck!" I groaned as I reached forward to pump my own now painfully large erection.

"You're doing great! Fuck, heaven," I spurred him on and we both came almost simultaneously and I felt high and floaty and Nate was chasing me up the highest orgasm tree I'd ever climbed.

Thanks for reading, Q.T.