There's no resistance in Vos. He shamelessly presses into the light touches, rolling his body against Tarn. His hands snake up to hook his fingers over the broad chestplate.
He gives a quiet nod.
He's far more interested in pulling himself up flush against the tank, small engine purring, muted.
no subject
He gives a quiet nod.
He's far more interested in pulling himself up flush against the tank, small engine purring, muted.