Michael Selvaggio and Alexx sit side by side in the steel of an outdoor plant, the razor glinting between them as one shaves the other’s leg clean. The tattooed one leans in, lips sealing tight around the hole of the shaved-head man, tongue pressing deep while the other’s fingers grip the razor, steady and sharp. The air hums with the scrape of blades and the wet, rhythmic pull of a mouth working the tight ring.
