Tomas Adamec’s blond, smooth body leans against mossy rocks as he adjusts his necklace, fingers tracing his own skin while Eugen Procci watches from behind, his presence thick in the air between them. The slim, sunlit frame of Tomas poses with one hand on his head, his mouth brushing his shoulder in quiet, deliberate strokes. The woods frame them in natural light, but it’s the way his body moves, slow, deliberate, unhurried, that makes this different.
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