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Summary
He pauses on a particularly harrowing frame. A tear has completed its path down Roman’s nose, and is suspended milliseconds before it hits his lapel. His arms are in front of his face, like he’s bracing for impact. Jeryd settles himself on his couch, screenshotting the frame for future reference. He usually likes Roman with bite, or at least a little resistance, but he can make do with this. Pain is pain, he surmises. He hits play again, leaning back into the cushions, and taking himself out of his boxers.