Enzo Muller leans against the car door, his dark hair slicked back, the sharp lines of his clean-shaven face set against the polished leather of his suit. Leo Louis stands beside him, bearded and broad-shouldered, his fingers tracing the lapel of Enzo’s jacket as he guides him toward the open trunk. The car’s rear seat waits, its upholstery already creased from use, while Leo’s grip tightens, no hesitation, just the slow unbuttoning of Enzo’s cuffs.
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