Oliver grinned as Kirley tried his best to look stern, but he knew the other Scot couldn't resist grinning. "You look like a cross kitten, but I promise I won't," he chuckled, running his hand up and down Kirley's thigh as he spoke.
Olly shivered as Kirley's fingers continued to move across his back, coming across a small sensitive patch.
Pressing their bodies together, Oliver nipped at Kirley's lip, his hand travelling up and under his shirt, fingers teasing bare skin. The taste of Firewhiskey on Kirley's tongue was one of Olivers favourite tastes at the moment, some how lately they often seemed to gravitate to the same clubs.
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