Diego Sans, the bearded one in the suit, grips Ken Ott’s hips hard while he kneels between his legs, his tie loosening as he shoves his tongue deep into the clean-shaven man’s throat. The sleeveless shirt clings to Ken’s back as Diego pins him to the counter, fingers digging into his waist, pulling him flush against the cold surface. Their mouths move fast, teeth scraping, hands tearing at each other’s clothes.
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