Psyke blinked, her eyebrows going high. "Tristan Bardera."
She slunk closer to him, pressing her body against his. He had come at a bad time, hair-wise (it was thrown up in a very terrible, messy bun at the top of her head), but her pajamas were quite nice. A tight top with rather easy to remove bottoms...he was adorable when he was so chivalorous and concerned, but to be honest. She hadn't had sex since she'd left England, and now her very handsome, hot quidditch boyfriend was standing very close to her. And his hair was wet. How could he get any sexier?
"Did you come all the way over here to take a nap?"
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