[ Nuzzling his way up a sender throat, All-speak filters itself into an Italian lilt that drips off Loki's tongue as sleekly as it would a native's.]
Apri le gambe, piccolo ombra, ti voglio più di ogni altra cosa.
[ The tshirt is shredded like wet paper, cast aside as Loki's grip on Nico slides down his back to cup the bend of a knee, encouraging him to tip forward so that Loki's fingers can push further and seek out a bundle of nerves at the right angle. His smile buffs for a kiss, never veering far from the taste of Nico's lips, and he laughs at himself softly with a shake of his head. ]
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Apri le gambe, piccolo ombra, ti voglio più di ogni altra cosa.
[ The tshirt is shredded like wet paper, cast aside as Loki's grip on Nico slides down his back to cup the bend of a knee, encouraging him to tip forward so that Loki's fingers can push further and seek out a bundle of nerves at the right angle. His smile buffs for a kiss, never veering far from the taste of Nico's lips, and he laughs at himself softly with a shake of his head. ]
Ogni volta che, ti bacio dimentico dove sono.