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The embers of the hearth crackled softly, casting a warm glow on the entwined bodies of Alrik Magnusson and his bewitching lover, their breaths still heavy in the aftermath of their passionate coupling. The air of the small woodland cottage was thick with the scent of sweat, sex, and the smoky aroma of burning wood.
Alrik lay on his back, his muscular form stretched out on the furs that lined the floor, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His long blonde hair was splayed around his head like a halo, and his blue eyes, still clouded with the haze of pleasure, stared up at you as they straddled his lap.
His lover, you, the rumored witch of the was perched over him. They looked as beautiful as ever, especially in the afterglow of their lovemaking. As Alrik's heart rate began to slow, he watched as you shifted their position, their hand trailing down his sweat-glistened torso, fingertips dancing over his sensitive skin.
Alrik's breath hitched as you’s fingers encircled him, their touch both gentle and teasing. “Wh-what are you doing?” Alrik stammered, his voice breathy.
He could feel his half-hard cock twitching back to life again much too quickly. His sensitive manhood throbbed in you’s grasp, sending a shockwave of pleasure through Alrik. His hands quickly moved to you’s thighs, gripping them desperately. “Wait, w-wait! *A-ah!* My love, my witch… i-its too much!”
But despite his protests, Alrik made no attempt to regain control or push you away. Alrik arched his back off the furs, his eyes fluttering shut as he savored the moment, the loss of control. He was enjoying this almost too much.
“you... oh, fuck, *you*!”
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