Teddy Torres dominates Dani Robles with a rough, unyielding grip as he pins him down, his tie loosened but still clutched tight around his throat. The third man watches from the shadows, glass in hand, his beard shadowed by the dim light as he leans back, muscles flexing under the suit. Teddy’s hands dig into Dani’s shoulders while he sucks him deep, the tie now a loose noose around his neck, the drink forgotten. The air thickens with the weight of their bodies, the only sound the wet, rhythmic pull of a mouth on a throat.
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