Juan Carlos and Nikko stand shoulder to shoulder, their broad chests pressed against the plaid couch, the dark hair of their shaved heads catching the light as they shift their weight. One grips the edge of the couch with a tattooed forearm, veins bulging under stretched skin, while the other leans in, his muscular frame angled just enough to show the sharp line of his jaw. The red wall behind them is stark, unbroken, only their bodies and the couch matter.
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