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His mouth dropped open, for a few seconds before barking out in hysterics, causing a deep rumbling echo around the ridge.

“Now, let’s go. I’ll race you back down the hill, emo-boy,” and I took off, running to the footpath, squealing as I heard Tudor chasing behind me.

He caught me at the bottom and spun me around, making me dizzy. He was laughing so hard. When I shouted “Mercy”, he placed me down in front of him and kissed me slowly, his hands braced on my head.

He broke the kiss and walked in front of me, then bent down slightly and looked back. “Hop on.”

Well, he didn’t have to ask me twice! I took a run, and jumped onto his back and he hoisted me up into a piggy-back. I wrapped my arms around his neck and laid a loud smack of a kiss on his cheek.

I loved this playful side of Tudor. He began running, making me bounce around and nearly caused me to fall off his back. We were laughing so much that we didn’t notice the group of teenage girls just in front of us, eyes glued to our little game. Tudor held on to my legs firmly and edged around the girls, heading in the direction of the Jeep. We heard some gasps and giggling, but Tudor kept his stride fast and never looked back. I did sneak a glance however, and noticed several iPhones being played with, but none pointing were in our direction, so I assumed we’d got by unrecognised.

We made it back to the car as the sun began to set over the hazy mountains, and Tudor opened the door for me to slip inside. He jumped in the driver’s seat and leaned over to peck my cheek, seeming somewhat lighter than a few hours before. The engine roared to life, and we pulled away from the parking lot at lightning speed.

As we were driving out of the exit I saw him smirking. “What are you so smiley about?”

He cast a smarmy look my way. “The day is almost done. I gave you the day to recover.”

I felt the butterflies in my stomach and squirmed on the heated seat. Seeing this, he placed a hand on my upper thigh, teasing me further. I sighed in frustration. “Tudor?”

“Mmm-hmm?” He pretended to be unaffected.

“Drive faster!”

“Yes, Ma'am!”

The elevator ride was a blur, and I have no recollection of actually parking the jeep or opening the condo door. I do, however, remember Tudor shredding my outerwear at a ridiculously fast pace, pushing me against the wall and yanking down my jeans and underwear.

“Tudor, what–?”

“Here, now. The bedroom can wait,” he demanded.

His jeans and boxers joined my discarded clothing on the floor, and I pictured in my head what we must look like: our top halves partially clothed, bottom halves naked, Tudor’s bare arse on display and my thighs wrapped tightly around his waist, guiding him straight towards me.

Before I could argue, Tudor took me against the hard wall, my shoulder blades burning from the friction. He showed his strength by lifting me over and over while kissing me roughly, causing me to moan loudly.

I zoned out, lost in the crazy wall-sex, and didn’t notice the front door opposite fling open. “Honey I’m hom-! Arghhhhh!!! What the hell!!!”

I opened my eyes and looked straight at a shell-shocked Tink.

Shit!

I frantically tapped Tudor’s shoulder. “Tudor, stop, stop!”

He hadn’t heard the squealing fairy and carried on regardless, his jerky hip movements tilting with perfect aim, making me groan and roll my eyes back in pleasure, determined to make me scream.

“My eyes, my eyes! I can’t see! I’m blind, blind, I tell you, blind!” wailed Tink as he ran past us and into the living area.

Tudor heard that one and stilled, meeting my horrified eyes. “Tash? Shit! Is that Tink?”

I nodded quickly. I wriggled loose from Tudor’s hold and bent to grab my jeans, throwing them on as quickly as I could, trying to ignore the persistent howling coming from the sofa. Tudor did the same, blushing profusely in embarrassment at being caught.

In the living room, I stood before the dramatic Geordie queen thrashing about on a mound of pink silk cushions.

“Oh, my Gods of glitter! My eyes are ruined by that hetero-horror scene! How will I ever remove the images? I’m going to have nightmares for months. I need therapy! Get me a doctor!” He raised his head from the throw cushion and saw me standing there, arms folded, tapping my foot. “And he’s paying for it.” Tink continued, pointing exaggeratedly towards Tudor.

“My delicate eyes can’t handle what I’ve just seen. Get the eye drops; I need to wash away the straight! Arghhh! How can I go on…?" He sat up abruptly, looking around the room at a frantic pace, and started retching. "Quick somebody show me a picture of Channing Tatum, check I’m still g*y!”

“Okay, enough!” I shouted.

Tink stood and stomped past me to the kitchen, knocking my shoulder with his as he passed. He withdrew the industrial-sized bottle of anti-bacterial spray from the cupboard and practically sprinted towards the recently abused wall, spraying frantically at the paintwork.

Tudor stealthily moved to stand next to me, pulling my back to his chest and laid his chin on my shoulder, watching the show. Tink turned, one hand on his hip, and marched toward us.

Staring me straight in the face, he stopped, raised his perfectly-waxed HD eyebrow and proceeded to spray my crotch with Dettol, until I knocked the bottle out of his hands.

“What are you doing?!!!” I screeched, trying to shake off the excess liquid from my nether regions.

His arms flailed in the air. “Me??? I’m trying to sanitise this rancid sex pit! Now get to the shower, missy. I have a bumper pack of douches waiting on you!”

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