Drake Law grips Josh Parker’s waist while Shaun Mann presses his mouth to Drake’s throat, their bodies angled against a metal countertop. The blond’s fingers dig into Josh’s hips as he leans forward, while Shaun’s dark hair brushes the back of Drake’s neck. Their uniforms, black with polished buttons, stay on as hands explore, gripping and pulling with rough precision. The workshop’s wooden shelves frame them, silent witnesses to the way they hold each other, close enough to taste but not quite touching where it matters.
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