"Yes", Bach murmurs, pulling him against him, scarping his nails over Davin's back. "Told you I'd be a fucking fairy tale experience."

It takes him several seconds to come up with a melody that the ladies of the saloon called The Peacock's Strut, music like warm honey. Bach breaks off the kiss to give the soft words and notes the necessary space, swaddles the both of them in it because maybe his cock is painfully hard, he still wants this to last forever.