The fluorescent lighting fixtures overhead were buzzing faintly, but to Kaz’s ears, they might as well have been roaring. It was times like these--stressful times where the tug of a headache or the splitting throng of a migraine always proceeded to gnaw at his temples right before he really got frustrated--that his ears blocked out all of the sounds in the world except for the most tiny ones, like the humming of a bulb that would go out completely in another week, give or take.
That was, in fact, one of many jumbled thoughts his mind was crazily processing along with a multitude of mental curses in both Japanese and English as Finch grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed him face-first onto the tabletop, and then he had something new to focus on. Lucky for him he had expected as much from a group of traitors, each converging on him like a pack of vultures targeting specific parts of him--Finch and his shoulders, Lynx and his arms which were now being twisted behind his back, Marlin and his hips, and Jackal and his head--so it didn’t hurt as badly as it could have. The headache, on the other hand, had just begun the moment Jackal forced his head to the side where Kaz’s gaze, unmasked by dark lenses, met their leader’s languid one.
Big Boss sat back in the chair he’d taken from the table and drug across the floor, sitting in front of the door, his head a few inches away from lock, puffing on his cigar as if was watching an incredibly complex but only mildly entertaining drama unfold. “I know you wanted a cake this year, but it’s a little hard to surprise someone with cooking when they’re bound to notice stuff missing from their kitchen. But in here--” The index finger of his free hand twirled in a half-hearted attempt at making a sweeping gesture. “We’re making the best of both worlds. Hope that counts for something.”
A rumble grew from the back of Kaz’s throat. Like hell it does. It was his kitchen, true. No one came in here at this hour but him, and even if anyone in the base who was possessed by a sudden urge for curry had even the slightest inclination to come down here, they had one heavy-duty lock to get through; and then their Boss, calm and placid as can be, to deal with. It was, Kaz decided, the reason why he’d chosen this of all places to hold this -- this coupe at.
“You’ve never celebrated a birthday before, have you?” Kaz asked with blatantly deceptive sunshine as Jackal started grinding his head onto the table’s hardwood surface and two pairs of hands attacked his uniform.
“Not many important ones,” Big Boss replied. He tilted his head to the side, looking for one instant like an intrigued child trying to get a better look at what was going on, then added to the men, “Get creative. There’s a use for that stuff.”
A minute or so later, there was no need for him to have his arms pulled. His ascot was handy in that respect; try as he might, he couldn’t shimmy out of it or even make a bid at ripping the fabric without his wrists aching sharply. By that point, his clothing was laying in pieces on the floor, and the last remaining article was being slipped down his legs by rough, hasty hands to fall at his ankles. Lynx’s hand glided up and down his thighs while Marlin raked his nails across his ass, leaving faint red scratches. And soon enough Finch and Jackal were grabbing him again and pulling him, and wouldn’t you know it, he was complying. Maybe out of shame, maybe out of exasperation, maybe out a wild, defiant desire to make the process hell for the idiots who decided that now was as good a time as any to take advantage of their superior. The latter became all too apparent when neither man remembered to keep their elder’s head in a vice-grip, and as soon as Kaz saw an opening in Finch, he seized it by headbutting him and twisting his body in a way that could only be described as desperate.
It was a nice effort and, to the men that hadn’t been expecting it but were prepared beforehand, gutsy enough to be cute. If it wasn’t, the image of him, a flushed mess, sweat beading at his forehead, eyes defiantly staring up at them, on his back outstretched on the hard linoleum floor would be. To a casual observer, the scene that was playing out resembled something right out of nature--a group of predators encircling smaller prey--with Kaz little more then a cornered animal, trapped and hopeless and all but snarling. And like an animal, he would have no qualms with chewing his leg out of the trap if it salvaged some shred of pride; no one in this room doubted that he was resourceful enough to put up a damn good fight before being taken, least of all Big Boss.
"If he tries anything stupid, make him regret it," he had said. "Don’t hold back."
The men were enthusiastic to make their Boss proud, both of them. For all they knew, this was an elaborate test -- an extended training exercise. They wouldn’t slip up and made sure to take Big Boss’ advice to heart, Jackal punching Kaz in the jaw so hard that the younger man felt his teeth rattle right as the other three converged upon him. Someone had their fingers bitten, that was one thing Kaz made sure of even if he received another hard blow to the face in return, but it didn’t stop the blond from getting his legs lifted over Marlin’s shoulders. Lynx’s fingers wedged themselves in his mouth before he could recover from the punch and pressed down on his tongue, spit collecting around them and trailing from his lips soon enough. He felt himself gag involuntarily, but they didn’t release themselves and he was left drooling, unable to make any vocalizations past simple grunts that ranged from low, enraged ones to pained cries when he felt something hard and slick prod against his opening and drive itself in without warning.
In many ways, it really was like ripping an animal apart. Kaz thrashed under the assault, body tensing itself further and making the burning of the initial penetration all the more intense, but it didn’t last for long; when the thrusting began, it transitioned into writhing with his clenching only speeding the process along on both ends. He was too busy holding his cries back to preoccupy himself with biting and only resisted when he felt Lynx fingers exit his mouth and a still semi-soft penis poke against his lips. It was amazing what another well-placed smack could do to an already bruised ego. Simply enough, he was learning that he was trapped either way, between the men and a single blue eye that unwaveringly bored into him.
--
They took turns, all four of them, and Marlin was the first to reach his climax. Shortly after Finch took his place, Lynx came and didn’t bother pulling out until Jackal all but shoved him away. Kaz was really starting to wonder at what point this was going to become enjoyable, and even if his body was going lax and making no further effort at fighting back, he was no closer to an orgasm than he’d been fifteen minutes ago when this had started. He was pitifully erect, but his bound wrists made it impossible to give it any attention.
But that’s what Jack wanted, wasn’t it? He was still sitting in his chair, chewing on a cigar that was nearly burned out although his attention was still rapt and undivided, and if Kaz’s own focus had only been as alert, he would have noticed the older man’s eye widening the moment Jackal pulled out of Kaz’s mouth to come all over his lips and chin.
“That’s enough,” He rumbled. Standing up, he snubbed his cigar out on the wall and waited for the four to get their bearings and pull up their pants. “Clean yourselves up in the showers. I’ll see to it that you all get that beer I promised when you’re done.”
They saluted. Big Boss wordlessly stood up and unlocked the door, allowing them to pass before bolting it again and turning to take in Kaz’s huddled form on the floor. His face was streaked with white and his cheeks had a dull flush to him that made him look both exhausted and sick, and his eyes were still narrowed in that stubborn glare, though the fire had gone out. The strain had taken a toll on him, emotionally and physically, and he chuckled when Big Boss began to approach him.
“Boy, with friends like you…” He tried edging away and only accomplished smearing more of Finch’s cum across the floor. “I’d be better off going downstairs to the shooting range and -- nnh…painting a bullseye on my stomach…”
The glance Big Boss gave him wasn’t sympathetic in the least. “Is that any way to show your gratitude? You know I could have ignored your birthday this year.”
“Huge loss,” He replied, hissing a little. Big Boss continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted in the first place.
“There’s no better way to spend it than with your family.” Now Kaz suspected that the other man was just going on because he liked the sound of his voice. As he spoke, he bent down to pick Kaz up, sliding his hands under the blond’s arms and hauling him to his feet. It was a shaky effort, and it made him wonder if this was…well, normal. The discomfort he was feeling down there wasn’t at all something he could say he had expertise in, embarrassingly new to this as he was.
“And no one knows what you like best than your family does. Helps that you’re like an open book.” Big Boss smiled an unseen, almost feral smile and pushed Kaz back in front of the table. “Funny, though; you should’ve sounded like you were on cloud nine even if you didn’t look like it.”
“Oh, you know me,” Kaz laughed hoarsely, false in every way except for the very clear sarcasm his tone was littered with. “You never hear me scream unless I’m having a really good time.”
Quirking a brow, Big Boss’ hands drifted to his belt; he was able to work his pants open in less than a minute, and when Kaz heard him spit in the palm of his hand, what was left of the color in his face drained just as quickly.
“That a fact, huh?”
--
It went on for what felt like hours even though it only lasted for no longer than ten minutes. While Lynx, Marlin, Jackal and Finch weren’t lacking in size by any means necessary, they all paled in comparison to Big Boss. He was thick, uncut and already fully erect; evidently the previous sight had been a very pleasing one for him and he didn’t need the use of his hands to get off from watching it. The spit had been a nice if not merciful touch and made the inevitable much more bearable, a smooth entry in hindsight.
His muscles should have been used to this by now, but Kaz surprised himself with how lecherous and pained his responding moan was. It felt as if he was being impaled.
Above him, Big Boss mumbled something intelligible and pulled out, then back in. Out and in, in and out. No surprise that he favored a slow pace to contrast to the whirlwind records set by the soldiers, but that may just have been because they wanted to finish as soon as possible. Or maybe they were unnerved by the patient gaze and presence of their commander. Either way, they were gone and there was nothing that prevented Jack from finishing this his way and exercising his full control over the smaller body he had beneath him, nicely spread and tightly clenched. He made no secret of how much he enjoyed the throaty, breathless noises Kaz made when he dug his nails into his thigh and dragged them down his waist, and before long he was closing his eye and resting his chin on the blond’s shoulder, nudging strands of hair out of the way with his nose and nuzzling his neck. It was an unusually tender gesture that anyone in their right mind would have perceived as a comforting one, but to Kaz it was utterly maddening. It seemed someone was close to getting their rocks off; too bad he sure as shit wasn’t as close.
And it could have been easy--so easy--if he could only move his hands down where he needed the most attention. The throbbing in his cock had ceased to be pleasant not long after he realized the ascot wouldn’t come off anytime soon, although he hadn’t expected Big Boss would be greedy enough to take advantage of him like this. Now it was just a consistent irritant, a figurative and literal itch that wouldn’t go away. His hips twitched and he rubbed his erection against the side of the table, pitifully. A whimper followed.
Words, soon after.
“Ask me.”
Kaz blinked once, then twice, looking owlish. “--What…?”
“Ask me to touch you,” Big Boss said, breath tickling his ear. His voice was low, probably intended to sound seductive even though it came out sounding like a threat.
“Boss--”
“I won’t do it unless you ask.”
Kaz didn’t know how to respond. Anger had long since been drained from him along with any further will to fight, that much was glaringly apparent; the drive had flowed out of him like water through the cracks in a pair of hands. But he’s serious, he thought, and that much of a bastard to go through with it. This was a case of a master dangling a bone above a starving dog for no other reason than to see how far it would jump, and like a dog Kaz was whimpering. He wasn’t fully aware of it at first, and when he was, he was beyond mortified. It provided one last incentive to resist, weak as it was.
“You’re being ridiculous!”
Big Boss responded by pounding into him hard enough to drive his stomach into the table, hard enough to elicit a cry. “I -- only have time. Ask.“
He pulled out again and prepared to dive back in and the awareness of that was worse than any heart attack, unbearable, Kaz’s heart just may have skipped a beat and he clenched his teeth and furrowed his brow and oh, I’m really going to hate myself for this--
“…Touch me. Please.”
A beat. The thrust didn’t come, at least not immediately. Either the older man was stalling or he was waiting for something, expecting more. Kaz immediately assumed it to be the latter.
“Touch me,” He tried again, louder. The fact that he was begging wasn’t an issue; consider it the figurative act of a beast chewing it’s own leg off to get out of the snare, except there was no more pride left to save. All gone. “You know I want it. Please touch me, Snake.” No reply and he added a more tentative ,“Boss.”
More of that tickling breath against his earlobe, wet, hot air licking at the flesh, then a baritone rasp -- a chuckle, self-indulgent and amused but not maliciously so. Lips closed the distance between them and kissed the younger man’s neck.
“That’s what I wanna hear,” He said and reached around Kaz’s hips to effortlessly grip his dick. “If only you could always ask for things that nicely.”
Slut.
His hand began to slide up and down and Kaz was too consumed by the relief that followed to feel much of anything that followed, including the tinge of shame that came with submitting.
Rope burn from an ascot--his ascot--was the least embarrassing thing to come out of all of this. The winner of that little contest had to be the image of him, an even bigger mess than before, slumped on the floor leaning against the leg of the table--his table--and panting like a dog. He felt slimy and gross, like he hadn’t had a bath in weeks. Something told him he’d need several before the night was over.
Having just finished fastening his belt, Big Boss reached for his cigar tin inside his pocket and said, “So? How did it rank?”
Silence on Kaz’s end, save for his own erratic breathing. His eyes traveled from the semen drying on the inside of his thighs to Big Boss’ curious face. Flatly, he replied:
“6.9, give or take.”
“That low?” The older man asked, obviously feigning surprise. A coy smile danced on his lips, making him look both boyish and sly. “How many other birthdays have you had to compete with this?”
“Enough where I expected cake from them,” Kaz shot back, resting his head against the leg. He closed his eyes and focused on slowing his breathing to an even pace and rubbing at the red marks around his wrists. “I’d have given you a solid 10% if you delivered on that end.”
“Is that so?” Kaz nodded a little, smug. Big Boss turned on his heel, raising his hand in a farewell.
“Maybe you’ll get one. If you start cleaning up now, you can get one baked before midnight.”
His grin widened marginally. Kaz scooped up a can of vegetables that had fallen from the tabletop during their session and chucked it at his head.
That was, in fact, one of many jumbled thoughts his mind was crazily processing along with a multitude of mental curses in both Japanese and English as Finch grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed him face-first onto the tabletop, and then he had something new to focus on. Lucky for him he had expected as much from a group of traitors, each converging on him like a pack of vultures targeting specific parts of him--Finch and his shoulders, Lynx and his arms which were now being twisted behind his back, Marlin and his hips, and Jackal and his head--so it didn’t hurt as badly as it could have. The headache, on the other hand, had just begun the moment Jackal forced his head to the side where Kaz’s gaze, unmasked by dark lenses, met their leader’s languid one.
Big Boss sat back in the chair he’d taken from the table and drug across the floor, sitting in front of the door, his head a few inches away from lock, puffing on his cigar as if was watching an incredibly complex but only mildly entertaining drama unfold. “I know you wanted a cake this year, but it’s a little hard to surprise someone with cooking when they’re bound to notice stuff missing from their kitchen. But in here--” The index finger of his free hand twirled in a half-hearted attempt at making a sweeping gesture. “We’re making the best of both worlds. Hope that counts for something.”
A rumble grew from the back of Kaz’s throat. Like hell it does. It was his kitchen, true. No one came in here at this hour but him, and even if anyone in the base who was possessed by a sudden urge for curry had even the slightest inclination to come down here, they had one heavy-duty lock to get through; and then their Boss, calm and placid as can be, to deal with. It was, Kaz decided, the reason why he’d chosen this of all places to hold this -- this coupe at.
“You’ve never celebrated a birthday before, have you?” Kaz asked with blatantly deceptive sunshine as Jackal started grinding his head onto the table’s hardwood surface and two pairs of hands attacked his uniform.
“Not many important ones,” Big Boss replied. He tilted his head to the side, looking for one instant like an intrigued child trying to get a better look at what was going on, then added to the men, “Get creative. There’s a use for that stuff.”
A minute or so later, there was no need for him to have his arms pulled. His ascot was handy in that respect; try as he might, he couldn’t shimmy out of it or even make a bid at ripping the fabric without his wrists aching sharply. By that point, his clothing was laying in pieces on the floor, and the last remaining article was being slipped down his legs by rough, hasty hands to fall at his ankles. Lynx’s hand glided up and down his thighs while Marlin raked his nails across his ass, leaving faint red scratches. And soon enough Finch and Jackal were grabbing him again and pulling him, and wouldn’t you know it, he was complying. Maybe out of shame, maybe out of exasperation, maybe out a wild, defiant desire to make the process hell for the idiots who decided that now was as good a time as any to take advantage of their superior. The latter became all too apparent when neither man remembered to keep their elder’s head in a vice-grip, and as soon as Kaz saw an opening in Finch, he seized it by headbutting him and twisting his body in a way that could only be described as desperate.
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"If he tries anything stupid, make him regret it," he had said. "Don’t hold back."
The men were enthusiastic to make their Boss proud, both of them. For all they knew, this was an elaborate test -- an extended training exercise. They wouldn’t slip up and made sure to take Big Boss’ advice to heart, Jackal punching Kaz in the jaw so hard that the younger man felt his teeth rattle right as the other three converged upon him. Someone had their fingers bitten, that was one thing Kaz made sure of even if he received another hard blow to the face in return, but it didn’t stop the blond from getting his legs lifted over Marlin’s shoulders. Lynx’s fingers wedged themselves in his mouth before he could recover from the punch and pressed down on his tongue, spit collecting around them and trailing from his lips soon enough. He felt himself gag involuntarily, but they didn’t release themselves and he was left drooling, unable to make any vocalizations past simple grunts that ranged from low, enraged ones to pained cries when he felt something hard and slick prod against his opening and drive itself in without warning.
In many ways, it really was like ripping an animal apart. Kaz thrashed under the assault, body tensing itself further and making the burning of the initial penetration all the more intense, but it didn’t last for long; when the thrusting began, it transitioned into writhing with his clenching only speeding the process along on both ends. He was too busy holding his cries back to preoccupy himself with biting and only resisted when he felt Lynx fingers exit his mouth and a still semi-soft penis poke against his lips. It was amazing what another well-placed smack could do to an already bruised ego. Simply enough, he was learning that he was trapped either way, between the men and a single blue eye that unwaveringly bored into him.
--
They took turns, all four of them, and Marlin was the first to reach his climax. Shortly after Finch took his place, Lynx came and didn’t bother pulling out until Jackal all but shoved him away. Kaz was really starting to wonder at what point this was going to become enjoyable, and even if his body was going lax and making no further effort at fighting back, he was no closer to an orgasm than he’d been fifteen minutes ago when this had started. He was pitifully erect, but his bound wrists made it impossible to give it any attention.
But that’s what Jack wanted, wasn’t it? He was still sitting in his chair, chewing on a cigar that was nearly burned out although his attention was still rapt and undivided, and if Kaz’s own focus had only been as alert, he would have noticed the older man’s eye widening the moment Jackal pulled out of Kaz’s mouth to come all over his lips and chin.
“That’s enough,” He rumbled. Standing up, he snubbed his cigar out on the wall and waited for the four to get their bearings and pull up their pants. “Clean yourselves up in the showers. I’ll see to it that you all get that beer I promised when you’re done.”
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“Boy, with friends like you…” He tried edging away and only accomplished smearing more of Finch’s cum across the floor. “I’d be better off going downstairs to the shooting range and -- nnh…painting a bullseye on my stomach…”
The glance Big Boss gave him wasn’t sympathetic in the least. “Is that any way to show your gratitude? You know I could have ignored your birthday this year.”
“Huge loss,” He replied, hissing a little. Big Boss continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted in the first place.
“There’s no better way to spend it than with your family.” Now Kaz suspected that the other man was just going on because he liked the sound of his voice. As he spoke, he bent down to pick Kaz up, sliding his hands under the blond’s arms and hauling him to his feet. It was a shaky effort, and it made him wonder if this was…well, normal. The discomfort he was feeling down there wasn’t at all something he could say he had expertise in, embarrassingly new to this as he was.
“And no one knows what you like best than your family does. Helps that you’re like an open book.” Big Boss smiled an unseen, almost feral smile and pushed Kaz back in front of the table. “Funny, though; you should’ve sounded like you were on cloud nine even if you didn’t look like it.”
“Oh, you know me,” Kaz laughed hoarsely, false in every way except for the very clear sarcasm his tone was littered with. “You never hear me scream unless I’m having a really good time.”
Quirking a brow, Big Boss’ hands drifted to his belt; he was able to work his pants open in less than a minute, and when Kaz heard him spit in the palm of his hand, what was left of the color in his face drained just as quickly.
“That a fact, huh?”
--
It went on for what felt like hours even though it only lasted for no longer than ten minutes. While Lynx, Marlin, Jackal and Finch weren’t lacking in size by any means necessary, they all paled in comparison to Big Boss. He was thick, uncut and already fully erect; evidently the previous sight had been a very pleasing one for him and he didn’t need the use of his hands to get off from watching it. The spit had been a nice if not merciful touch and made the inevitable much more bearable, a smooth entry in hindsight.
His muscles should have been used to this by now, but Kaz surprised himself with how lecherous and pained his responding moan was. It felt as if he was being impaled.
Above him, Big Boss mumbled something intelligible and pulled out, then back in. Out and in, in and out. No surprise that he favored a slow pace to contrast to the whirlwind records set by the soldiers, but that may just have been because they wanted to finish as soon as possible. Or maybe they were unnerved by the patient gaze and presence of their commander. Either way, they were gone and there was nothing that prevented Jack from finishing this his way and exercising his full control over the smaller body he had beneath him, nicely spread and tightly clenched. He made no secret of how much he enjoyed the throaty, breathless noises Kaz made when he dug his nails into his thigh and dragged them down his waist, and before long he was closing his eye and resting his chin on the blond’s shoulder, nudging strands of hair out of the way with his nose and nuzzling his neck. It was an unusually tender gesture that anyone in their right mind would have perceived as a comforting one, but to Kaz it was utterly maddening. It seemed someone was close to getting their rocks off; too bad he sure as shit wasn’t as close.
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Words, soon after.
“Ask me.”
Kaz blinked once, then twice, looking owlish. “--What…?”
“Ask me to touch you,” Big Boss said, breath tickling his ear. His voice was low, probably intended to sound seductive even though it came out sounding like a threat.
“Boss--”
“I won’t do it unless you ask.”
Kaz didn’t know how to respond. Anger had long since been drained from him along with any further will to fight, that much was glaringly apparent; the drive had flowed out of him like water through the cracks in a pair of hands. But he’s serious, he thought, and that much of a bastard to go through with it. This was a case of a master dangling a bone above a starving dog for no other reason than to see how far it would jump, and like a dog Kaz was whimpering. He wasn’t fully aware of it at first, and when he was, he was beyond mortified. It provided one last incentive to resist, weak as it was.
“You’re being ridiculous!”
Big Boss responded by pounding into him hard enough to drive his stomach into the table, hard enough to elicit a cry. “I -- only have time. Ask.“
He pulled out again and prepared to dive back in and the awareness of that was worse than any heart attack, unbearable, Kaz’s heart just may have skipped a beat and he clenched his teeth and furrowed his brow and oh, I’m really going to hate myself for this--
“…Touch me. Please.”
A beat. The thrust didn’t come, at least not immediately. Either the older man was stalling or he was waiting for something, expecting more. Kaz immediately assumed it to be the latter.
“Touch me,” He tried again, louder. The fact that he was begging wasn’t an issue; consider it the figurative act of a beast chewing it’s own leg off to get out of the snare, except there was no more pride left to save. All gone. “You know I want it. Please touch me, Snake.” No reply and he added a more tentative ,“Boss.”
More of that tickling breath against his earlobe, wet, hot air licking at the flesh, then a baritone rasp -- a chuckle, self-indulgent and amused but not maliciously so. Lips closed the distance between them and kissed the younger man’s neck.
“That’s what I wanna hear,” He said and reached around Kaz’s hips to effortlessly grip his dick. “If only you could always ask for things that nicely.”
Slut.
His hand began to slide up and down and Kaz was too consumed by the relief that followed to feel much of anything that followed, including the tinge of shame that came with submitting.
--
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Having just finished fastening his belt, Big Boss reached for his cigar tin inside his pocket and said, “So? How did it rank?”
Silence on Kaz’s end, save for his own erratic breathing. His eyes traveled from the semen drying on the inside of his thighs to Big Boss’ curious face. Flatly, he replied:
“6.9, give or take.”
“That low?” The older man asked, obviously feigning surprise. A coy smile danced on his lips, making him look both boyish and sly. “How many other birthdays have you had to compete with this?”
“Enough where I expected cake from them,” Kaz shot back, resting his head against the leg. He closed his eyes and focused on slowing his breathing to an even pace and rubbing at the red marks around his wrists. “I’d have given you a solid 10% if you delivered on that end.”
“Is that so?” Kaz nodded a little, smug. Big Boss turned on his heel, raising his hand in a farewell.
“Maybe you’ll get one. If you start cleaning up now, you can get one baked before midnight.”
His grin widened marginally. Kaz scooped up a can of vegetables that had fallen from the tabletop during their session and chucked it at his head.
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I'll be in my bunk.
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S for Sexy. This was friggin' perfect.
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