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Summary
Jon’s expression is mean. His shrug is a devastating kind of casual. He sits upright, leans back a little, the light in the room catching off the shape of his stomach muscles. He hooks a thumb in his boxers, adjusts the waistband. In the process, Darby sees a flash of dark hair. He stares at the buttons on the front of Jon’s underwear. He can’t fucking think and has no idea what Jon’s talking about.