Dermott's small pocket knife scraped the metal shavings from the doorknob onto the floor. Damn. Breaking and entering could be such a bitch! But he was going to do it in under 5 minutes... 6 minutes. Okay 7. 7! He'd do it under 7 miutes to show Hank he could. Give him a break his hands were sweaty. Apparently hank hadn't been framiliar with the
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Dermott tried not to look Hank in the eye, (or eager) as he got up of Brock's bed and made his way over to Hank and his laungerie troubles. He stood behind him as he looped the bra over hank's wrists and up to his shoulders. Knuckles, INCHES away from grazing Hank's breasts. Not silicone. The real, fucking, deal. When that was on, he hooked the back.... and wrapped his hands from behind around Hank tugging slightly at the underwire. He couldn't fucking help it! And besides, he was just "helping" Hank out after all... Not like they were.... doing anything else.
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Dermott picked up Hank's shirt off the ground, turning to face him in his braful state.
Dermott>>> uh.... you, want this?
he asked sitting beside Hank.... eyes locking oh his slender frame, delicate shoulders and... fuck Hank PLEASE put the shirt on!!!
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