“Remove the shirt.” I demanded.
“My, my little bird, I never took you as the type to take advantage of a dying man.” He said, smirking. “You are not dying– but if you are not cooperative I may have to change that.”
“Fury suits you quite nicely, little bird.” he murmured, leaning nearer.
My heart stuttered for a brief moment before returning to its usual rhythm. - Beneath The Black Flag - J.A. Alexander
— Oct 27, 2025 11:03PM
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