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My teeth bite into him. But suddenly, I pull away. His usual lavender scent is mixed in with something else. Something that is too sweet, too bitter, too ugly. My instinct is screaming that I should not mark him. That there is something rotten in him.
I wipe my mouth as he lifts himself. "What's wrong?" he asks. "Is it done?"
I glance at his neck. I have not even started yet. "Your smell…" I whisper, "It's preventing me to mark you."
"Then, I will wash first."
He gets up from the bed. He's about to enter the bathroom when he returns and lifts me off his bed.
"How about we wash each other? It's been a while since you washed me."
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