Octavia Red stepped into the Flesh Mechanic’s domain knowing she wouldn’t leave unchanged. The air was heavy with oil, metal, and something warmer—something human beneath the machinery. He looked at her like he already knew where her limits were, and how easily they’d give way.
They didn’t talk much. They never needed to, Octavia Red & Flesh Mechanic had their time in one hot set...
The incomparable session was intense, relentless, stripped of pretense. It was pressure and release, control and surrender, bodies moving in a language older than words, HARD FUCK!
Octavia felt every second of it—felt herself fracture and reform, emotion tangling with heat, desire blurring into something dangerously close to trust.
When it was over, she lay there catching her breath, heart still racing, skin humming like it had been rewired. The Flesh Mechanic said nothing, just watched her with that knowing calm.
Octavia smiled to herself.
One session was enough to leave a mark.
Enough to know she’d come back.
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