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There was something about kissing Crier that Ayla would never get enough of.
It was the small ones, stolen when no one was looking, gently pressed against a cheek or a hand or even to her lips. Or the greater ones, filled with passion and heat. So many years depraved of her kiss, Ayla took them whenever she had the chance.
Crier's back hit the door of their shared bedroom, Ayla's hands in her hair.
{Crierayla}
{Crier x Ayla} -
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