Rating: R for the entirely gratuitous second paragraph.
The morning of the trial dawned dark and blustery. Wet gusting winds from the southeast almost certainly promised rain off the Atlantic by lunchtime. Rain Wolfe opened his eyes to a grey sky and a hint of a roll of distant thunder. It was a morning to curl up together and
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He carries the reminders of every glove that laid him down or cut him 'til he cried out in his anger and his shame. I am leaving, I am leaving, but the fighter still remains.
Are not all my words as fire, sayeth the Lord, and a hammer that shatters the ice.
The darkness had closed in fully when Rain Wolfe banged loudly on the steel door of the old factory north of the King's Row tram. He had about decided to try it in Dwarf form for maximum volume before the door cracked open
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Mood: frisky Rating: R (language, nudity, M/M, implied noncon)
Two weeks ago.
It was going to be a Jack Daniels weekend. Rain registered the bottle on their kitchen counter and started making plans for a bachelor Saturday. He didn't drink the stuff and he knew the only time Dylan did was on his lost weekends in the Hollows with his old crew.