Chris Damned kneels behind Dakota Lovell, his fingers probing the tight, puckered hole while the ruler taps the tabletop, measuring not just height, but the precise spread of his own grip. The tattoos on his arms coil around the exam table as he checks the muscular thighs, then the chest, the genitals, the back, each touch deliberate, each inch accounted for. Dakota lies still, his body stretched out under the cold metal, the ruler’s edge marking the distance between Chris’s hands and the edge of the table.
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