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The Westermarck Effect

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"Show me how much you loved my mother," Ajay panted between Pagan's hungry kisses.

Pagan hesitated. "Shit, and people think I'm fucked up." He devoured Ajay's lips once more.

"Mmf, no," Ajay struggled out of the kiss. "I've taken everything you've told me about you and my mother on a shitton of faith. If you're going to foist this hellhole on me, I need some tangible proof of how much you cared about her."

Pagan stifled a bitter retort about Lakshamana. Now wasn't the time. He was about to get laid, for Christ's sake. Yeah, it was fucked up—Ishwari's son, the little boy he wanted to be a father to all those years ago—but one look into his eyes, Ishwari's eyes, and Pagan was a goner. He could definitely show the boy a fucking magical time.