Alejo Ospina and Daniel Montoya lead a pack of tattooed, muscular men in matching yellow-and-black jerseys, their dark hair framing rough faces as they crowd behind a bar. One grips the other’s shoulders while their mouths crash together, teeth clashing, while the rest lean in close, hands sliding over bare chests. The air hums with the weight of their bodies, every touch deliberate, every breath shared.
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