Harry Louis grips Marco Sessions by the tie, yanking him down to devour his mouth while Marco’s tattooed arms clench the table, fingers already slipping inside his suit pocket to pull out a half-eaten sandwich. The bearded man’s teeth sink into Marco’s lower lip as he shoves a forkful of greasy meat into his mouth, watching the clean-shaven one swallow with slow, deliberate swallows before dragging his tongue over the grease still clinging to his lips. Marco’s fingers twist in Harry’s hair, pulling him closer as the other man licks the sauce from his knuckles, the suit untucked but still crisp against the mess.
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