Tattoo Junior grips James Jones by the hips, his shaved head close enough to feel the prickle of stubble against his own, while a small child in a yellow shirt watches from the wooden chair. Jones arches his back, fingers digging into Junior’s shoulders as he kisses him hard, the tattoos on his chest rising and falling with every breath. The chair creaks under the child’s weight, silent but fixed on the way their bodies lock together.
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