Yoan Desanges kneels behind Chris Loan, his fingers probing the tight asshole while the blond’s chest rises and falls under the cold press of the stethoscope. The muscular man lies still on the table, his dark hair spread across the fabric as Yoan checks his pulse with deliberate pressure, then slides a blood pressure cuff up his arm. Medical charts and posters frame the scene, but the focus is on the precision, each act measured, each touch deliberate.
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