thinking about their makeup sex years later, how Tenna would use his torso and palms to grind against Spamton with a force that nearly crushes him into his own body, as if loosening his grip even slightly would make his little mailman disappear again. (1/3)
Years of accumulated longing and sweet words had now turned into fragmented thoughts at this moment. No wonder Tenna was stammering—after all, no one would feel good vomiting up such shards of glass all at once. (3/3)
