It isn't so much turmoil as it is habit, instilled in him from the moment he became a hunter and more and more through Zevran's training. Always be wary, always have a plan of attack-- and he does, though it sort of sits there buzzing in the back of his head like background noise, while there's nothing in the foreground but drunken warmth and the sweet allure of a bed and hearth.
He sheds his cloak and coat and scarf (which basically strips him of any and all bulk and greatly reduces his size) and walks over to nudge Metaari's foot with his boot.
"Cute. I'm not exactly a kind and giving host, here." Still, his lips twitch upward into a crooked smile and he reaches up to unclasp his cloak, whipping it around himself to reach up and rest it on a hook next to the bed. He cracks his neck before his shirt follows the cloak's path, save for winding up on the floor instead of hanging, and he stretches his arms up over his head.
"You have options available to you for where you want to sleep. But for what it's worth, I make a pretty good pillow." Metaari casts Merrick a wink before he swings his legs up onto the bed in order to stretch out, stripped from the waist up--making sure that he presses himself against the wall, of course, to give Merrick room should he choose to join him.
Merrick doesn't remove his shirt, but he does go through the process of unbuckling his boots and plucking the daggers out of them. His belt goes, too, where there are at least five or six throwing knives, and he slips off the knife strapped to his thigh, too. That's...most of them. One gets secretly placed under his side of the mattress, should an intruder come calling.
He crawls into bed then, but goes straight for Metaari, swinging a leg over the qunari's hips so he can perch quite comfortably on his lap.
"A pillow, huh?" He prods Metaari's belly. "You are softer than the last time I saw you."
The sudden weight on him makes Metaari open his eyes back up, and he can't help but grin at the sight of Merrick above him. He brings his hands up to lightly rest them on the elf's thighs, his thumbs idly moving back and forth across the fabric of his pants. "I'm putting on my winter weight so I can go into hibernation."
He grins, sharp with a hint of a hungry edge, as he lets his gaze move slowly down the form perched on top of him. "I still think about it, you know," he finally says, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. "The way you writhed..."
"Me too," Merrick whispers. "I still feel you inside me."
His hands move over Metaari's chest, scratching ever so slightly with his fingernails. It's so easy, like a pattern that's unfolding before his eyes. The world outside the cabin seems to vanish--the hole in the sky, the demons, Corypheus--leaving them in the same bubble they'd lived in for those short moments before.
After a moment Merrick leans down and starts to kiss at Metaari's chest, feather-light touches with the slightest press of tongue. His eyes look up, his gaze heated but somehow shy at the same time.
"How does it feel?" He mutters it quietly, his eyes half-lidded as he watches Merrick shift and trail kisses across his skin. Metaari takes in a slow breath and wets his lips, curling them up slightly. This is an image he could never tire of.
He lets his hands wander, fingers of one trailing up his spine before dancing back down again, and when it gets there both hands come together to grab Merrick's ass and squeeze. "When you think about it, how badly do you want to feel it again?" He lets out a breath, chuckling just a touch. "Filled you to the brim, didn't I."
"Yeah, and I couldn't walk for two days," he mumbles, and gives one of Metaari's nipples a punishing bite in return. He remembers it well, staggering back to camp and hiding in one of the aravels until he recovered. People assumed things, certainly--and Cyril just flat out knew, asking him only if he'd been forced or not and then endlessly smirking once he was told he hadn't been--but Merrick had never breathed a word about what happened. In fact, he'd threatened bodily harm in anyone who even brought it up.
Now, he feels no shame. He licks the spot he'd bitten, then finally crawls up Metaari's body enough to be face to face. Here, he gets shy again, tentative as he looks at Metaari's eyes, and then his lips.
"And I do want it," he murmurs. "You. I don't know why."
That makes Metaari grin, smug and self-satisfied, though the moment passes in a flicker when teeth sink into his nipple. He sucks in a breath, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment, and he revels in the sensations already zipping through his body. It's as though his body has already attuned to Merrick, already made itself comfortable there, and wants more. "Good."
His eyes open again when he feels the shift and he brings a hand up to brush his knuckles down Merrick's jaw. He grips his chin lightly, thumb brushing across Merrick's lower lip, before he pulls him in. The kiss is surprisingly gentle at first, soft with a bit of hesitation, before he moves his hand from Merrick's chin to the back of his neck to hold him firmly in place so that he can deepen the kiss. Heat bubbles behind the act, threatening to consume the both of them.
Merrick sinks into the kiss easily, shifting his body so he's lying against Metaari's side, curled against his shoulder. He kisses hard, drinking in every second of it, never wasting one.
He has no idea what came over him. Just minutes ago he'd been plotting the best way to kill Metaari, and now he's pressed against him, hand resting on his chest above his heart, kissing him desperately. His whole body feels hot, aches with the desire he's never felt for any other person.
It's probably dangerous. Right now, he doesn't care.
Merrick will feel a faint flutter, if he pays enough attention to where his hand is placed, as Metaari's heart beats a few extra times faster than normal. His fingers curl into Merrick's hair, his body following the shifts and movements that the elf makes as easily as though he's anticipating every one.
"So eager," he murmurs against parted lips, his tongue dancing along them before dipping inside Merrick's mouth. His fingers pull at the strands of hair tangled around them, his teeth nip at lips, and still he seeks to find ways to get more. More heat, more touches, more anything.
A small smirk, just touching the edge of his lips, is Merrick's reply. He crawls back on top of Metaari, so he can move his hands over the broad chest again. He barely separates their lips for even a moment, answering each nip with a growl and a bite of his own.
Metaari has made a mess of his hair, and it springs loose from the scant amount of product he uses to tame it, curls falling over his face. He doesn't seem to mind, his own fingers coming to rest on Metaari's cheek.
"I want your hands all over me," he whispers, and his voice sounds low and heavy and surprising to his own ears.
It's strange; feral and tender, consuming and soft. It's an interesting chemistry that they have, and Metaari thinks that he could get addicted to it rather quickly, that maybe he already has. He tips his head a little toward the fingers against his cheek with a faint smile, practically nuzzling them. "It's a good thing you're irresistible, then."
His hands move, finally untangling from Merrick's hair, to spread across his body like asked. They touch every bare expanse they can find before one hand finally searches for access under his shirt so calloused fingertips can caress his back. "I want you squirming on top of me, Merrick."
"I'm not squirming that much," Merrick argues weakly, but once Metaari's huge hands start caressing him there's no stopping it. His spine stretches out like a cat's, and there's a low rumble of contentment in the base of his throat that sounds very much like a purr. He practically undulates, chest falling low against Metaari until he flattens himself against him.
He buries his face against the other's neck, then, breath shuddering against the skin as his body trembles slightly in the qunari's hands. As usual his small frame can't handle the force of his emotions, and the want he feels is overwhelming him.
"Not yet you aren't," Metaari counters with a cocksure grin. The way he shifts and stretches and actually trembles against him is intoxicating in ways he can't quite pinpoint, but knows he wants more of. Maybe it has something to do with being able to bring someone with so much ferocity boiling inside of them to this point. It's a power trip, yes, but more than that, it makes Metaari feel wanted in ways he hasn't in some time.
Metaari tips his head to the side to open his throat up some more before gripping Merrick's hips and pushing up against him, letting him get a feel for just how much this is already starting to get to him. He grunts a little at the friction and wets his lips, gazing up toward the ceiling. "Too many clothes," he finally mutters, tugging a bit at the fabric between them.
Metaari's hands on his hips just reminds Merrick of how small he is in comparison to the man below him, and the desire pressing up against him just emphasizes that even more. He shivers despite the heat coursing through him, and turns his head slightly to bite at Metaari's thick neck.
He straightens up once he feels he managed to leave a decent enough bruise, and quickly unbuttons his shirt. He doesn't push it off, but it does reveal quite a bit of skin. It glows in the flickering light of the fire, and he slips his shirt a little off his shoulder to show more.
Then he sits back, pointedly pressing his ass against Metaari's dick, smirking and playfully biting his lip a little.
Metaari watches him, his eyes partially lidded, shimmering with want and desire, and he grins a little as skin is bared to him. He runs his fingers up the length of Merrick's torso with a low rumble, watching the contrast of skin, the way his hand almost seems like it could reach across the elf's entire body.
Once he starts pressing down Metaari surges upward, sitting up to wrap his arms around Merrick's body, enveloping him. Both of his hands hold Merrick's slim waist and he pulls him down, increasing the pressure, as he leans in to snag another heated kiss.
"I want you," he finally mutters, voice low and rumbling and full of heat. "Maker, do I want you."
Bare skin presses together with a shock of electricity that stings Merrick and makes him gasp. He lets himself go for a moment, just riding out the sensations, twining his arms around Metaari's neck as he continues to grind against him. He surges upward for kiss after kiss, gasping between each one as arousal spreads hot and wild through his entire body.
"Fuck," he breathes, startled by the jut of his own erection pressing against Metaari's stomach, wet and increasingly uncomfortable in his trousers. He wants Metaari to fuck him so badly, he can barely breathe with want of it, but he also has to be able to walk in the morning.
So--a compromise.
"Fuck my thighs," he proposes, the words breathy and wet against the skin of Metaari's neck.
There's a faint noise of protest--he wants inside, to feel heat and warmth and tightness, to have it fresh in his memory again--but he stifles it a moment later. No, Merrick is right. They aren't exactly in a place for either of them to deal with the aftermath of going so far; if this was his own bed, maybe, he would insist. But he's going to have to do enough cleaning up for the old woman by way of apology already. No sense in making it worse.
He slips a hand down between their bodies to grasp at the front of Merrick's trousers, groping him through the fabric with a sigh. A moment of teasing and his hand moves up a bit to slip under the waistband, slipping it down just a bit, before he grunts. "On your knees, then," he mutters, gently pushing Merrick off of his lap (though he'd rather do anything but). "I want to see you. Better, this time."
Merrick usually isn't one to obey, especially not as quickly as he climbs off Metaari's lap and gets on his hands and knees right then. He doesn't feel like it's demeaning though, nor does his pride take over. He just feels safe, like he's in a place where he doesn't have to lash out and rail against the world like he usually does. It's strange, alarming, but he doesn't question it, too engaged in the moment.
He's still throbbing between his legs, even worse now that he'd had those brief moments of touch. He pushes against his own hand whenever he's able as he works off his pants, peeling them off his hips and down his thighs.
Then his hands press against the mattress, fingers curling into the sheets. Presenting himself. Utterly vulnerable, a state he has to try not to fight against.
A moan escapes Metaari as he watches, groping himself now as Merrick shifts and gets himself settled. The trust and willingness shown alone is enough to get him going, and he has to resist the urge to just pounce right as the opportunity presents itself.
He moves to stand instead, hastily undoing the ties to his own trousers so that they can pool on the floor at his feet. Once he's undressed he gets to his knees on the bed behind Merrick and leans over him, a large, warm presence above him. He bends down and places a kiss against the back of Merrick's neck before starting to trail downward, placing hot kisses through the fabric of the shirt that still remains. When he gets to the base of Merrick's spine he pulls back so that he can move down further, bypassing what he wants to get to what he needs.
Metaari lays himself on his back and pulls Merrick down a little toward him, keeping the elf's legs splayed open on either side of his head, so that he can place hot, wet kisses to his inner thighs--and maybe, maybe, occasionally flicking a teasing tongue up to caress the balls and heated erection dangling above him.
The kisses, warm and lavished over his body, are met with low purrs rolling in Merrick's throat. It's wonderful to be kissed in such a way, that makes him feel cherished, secure in his own skin in a way he never feels otherwise. And then--
"Creators!"
Just like last time, Metaari stuns Merrick by doing things that have never even occurred to him before. He grits his teeth and stifles a whimper, one hand darting up to clutch the headboard as Metaari's mouth moves over his skin. His hips move, trying to feel more, get more, as he squirms above Metaari.
Metaari chuckles at the noise, the sound vibrating low in his chest, and he brings his hands up to hold Merrick's hips firmly in place while he lavishes his attention. He places kiss after kiss against soft thighs, occasionally opening his mouth just a little bit wider to lightly bite at them, until he's certain that they're sufficiently wet for what he needs. With one last kiss he crawls out from underneath Merrick and rises again, this time positioning himself behind him.
He can't help himself; he has to take a moment to lightly tease Merrick's entrance with the head of his cock, rubbing the tip against his opening. Remember this? A faint grin spreads across Metaari's face before he finally aims himself lower, pressing on the outside of Merrick's thighs to push them together and around his warm girth. He sighs at the contact, glad for some sort of pressure finally, and he gives an experimental little thrust forward.
It feels--strange. Metaari's cock is hot and thick between his thighs, its girth pushing them apart, and Merrick still feels the gentle push of the tip against his entrance even when it's gone. He almost says 'fuck it' and lets Metaari push inside him, but he abstains, focusing instead on the new sensations he's experiencing.
He holds still for the time being, allowing Metaari to manipulate his body to find just the right fit. One hand idly strokes his cock, smearing pre-cum over its tip, and he hums softly in contentment.
His hands push Merrick's thighs together just a little bit more, for as much tightness as he's going to get from the soft skin, before he lets his hands move a little more. One goes to Merrick's hip to hold on to him and the other slides under the elf's body and slides up over his torso, calloused fingertips teasing his nipples.
Metaari hums low in his throat as he gives another slow thrust, pressing his hips forward and flush against Merrick's body before he pulls back. Another, and one more, and finally Metaari settles into a slow but steady rhythm. It feels better than he thought it would and he chuckles quietly. He bends his body over Merrick's back in order to place a kiss against his neck again before murmuring, "You're beautiful, you know? Absolutely beautiful."
The compliment actually makes Merrick let out the softest of gasps, as he stiffens even more inside his hand. His body responds, but he himself can't quite handle it. It feels so confoundingly good to be the recipient of those words-- not Cyril. Him. It makes him start to move his hips a little, really get into what they're doing.
His vocal response, however, is full of doubt. "He says with a full view of my ass," he snarks back.
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Date: 2015-12-14 03:24 am (UTC)He sheds his cloak and coat and scarf (which basically strips him of any and all bulk and greatly reduces his size) and walks over to nudge Metaari's foot with his boot.
"So you're taking the floor?" he teases.
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Date: 2015-12-18 01:56 am (UTC)"You have options available to you for where you want to sleep. But for what it's worth, I make a pretty good pillow." Metaari casts Merrick a wink before he swings his legs up onto the bed in order to stretch out, stripped from the waist up--making sure that he presses himself against the wall, of course, to give Merrick room should he choose to join him.
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Date: 2015-12-18 02:16 am (UTC)He crawls into bed then, but goes straight for Metaari, swinging a leg over the qunari's hips so he can perch quite comfortably on his lap.
"A pillow, huh?" He prods Metaari's belly. "You are softer than the last time I saw you."
He's in a teasing mood.
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Date: 2015-12-18 02:36 am (UTC)He grins, sharp with a hint of a hungry edge, as he lets his gaze move slowly down the form perched on top of him. "I still think about it, you know," he finally says, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. "The way you writhed..."
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Date: 2015-12-18 03:11 am (UTC)His hands move over Metaari's chest, scratching ever so slightly with his fingernails. It's so easy, like a pattern that's unfolding before his eyes. The world outside the cabin seems to vanish--the hole in the sky, the demons, Corypheus--leaving them in the same bubble they'd lived in for those short moments before.
After a moment Merrick leans down and starts to kiss at Metaari's chest, feather-light touches with the slightest press of tongue. His eyes look up, his gaze heated but somehow shy at the same time.
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Date: 2015-12-20 05:51 am (UTC)He lets his hands wander, fingers of one trailing up his spine before dancing back down again, and when it gets there both hands come together to grab Merrick's ass and squeeze. "When you think about it, how badly do you want to feel it again?" He lets out a breath, chuckling just a touch. "Filled you to the brim, didn't I."
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Date: 2015-12-20 06:27 am (UTC)Now, he feels no shame. He licks the spot he'd bitten, then finally crawls up Metaari's body enough to be face to face. Here, he gets shy again, tentative as he looks at Metaari's eyes, and then his lips.
"And I do want it," he murmurs. "You. I don't know why."
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Date: 2015-12-20 06:50 am (UTC)His eyes open again when he feels the shift and he brings a hand up to brush his knuckles down Merrick's jaw. He grips his chin lightly, thumb brushing across Merrick's lower lip, before he pulls him in. The kiss is surprisingly gentle at first, soft with a bit of hesitation, before he moves his hand from Merrick's chin to the back of his neck to hold him firmly in place so that he can deepen the kiss. Heat bubbles behind the act, threatening to consume the both of them.
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Date: 2015-12-20 06:59 am (UTC)He has no idea what came over him. Just minutes ago he'd been plotting the best way to kill Metaari, and now he's pressed against him, hand resting on his chest above his heart, kissing him desperately. His whole body feels hot, aches with the desire he's never felt for any other person.
It's probably dangerous. Right now, he doesn't care.
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Date: 2015-12-20 07:43 am (UTC)"So eager," he murmurs against parted lips, his tongue dancing along them before dipping inside Merrick's mouth. His fingers pull at the strands of hair tangled around them, his teeth nip at lips, and still he seeks to find ways to get more. More heat, more touches, more anything.
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Date: 2015-12-20 07:52 am (UTC)Metaari has made a mess of his hair, and it springs loose from the scant amount of product he uses to tame it, curls falling over his face. He doesn't seem to mind, his own fingers coming to rest on Metaari's cheek.
"I want your hands all over me," he whispers, and his voice sounds low and heavy and surprising to his own ears.
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Date: 2015-12-20 06:22 pm (UTC)His hands move, finally untangling from Merrick's hair, to spread across his body like asked. They touch every bare expanse they can find before one hand finally searches for access under his shirt so calloused fingertips can caress his back. "I want you squirming on top of me, Merrick."
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Date: 2015-12-20 10:31 pm (UTC)He buries his face against the other's neck, then, breath shuddering against the skin as his body trembles slightly in the qunari's hands. As usual his small frame can't handle the force of his emotions, and the want he feels is overwhelming him.
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Date: 2015-12-27 05:47 am (UTC)Metaari tips his head to the side to open his throat up some more before gripping Merrick's hips and pushing up against him, letting him get a feel for just how much this is already starting to get to him. He grunts a little at the friction and wets his lips, gazing up toward the ceiling. "Too many clothes," he finally mutters, tugging a bit at the fabric between them.
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Date: 2015-12-27 06:18 am (UTC)He straightens up once he feels he managed to leave a decent enough bruise, and quickly unbuttons his shirt. He doesn't push it off, but it does reveal quite a bit of skin. It glows in the flickering light of the fire, and he slips his shirt a little off his shoulder to show more.
Then he sits back, pointedly pressing his ass against Metaari's dick, smirking and playfully biting his lip a little.
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Date: 2015-12-27 06:38 am (UTC)Once he starts pressing down Metaari surges upward, sitting up to wrap his arms around Merrick's body, enveloping him. Both of his hands hold Merrick's slim waist and he pulls him down, increasing the pressure, as he leans in to snag another heated kiss.
"I want you," he finally mutters, voice low and rumbling and full of heat. "Maker, do I want you."
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Date: 2015-12-27 07:27 am (UTC)"Fuck," he breathes, startled by the jut of his own erection pressing against Metaari's stomach, wet and increasingly uncomfortable in his trousers. He wants Metaari to fuck him so badly, he can barely breathe with want of it, but he also has to be able to walk in the morning.
So--a compromise.
"Fuck my thighs," he proposes, the words breathy and wet against the skin of Metaari's neck.
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Date: 2015-12-28 01:47 am (UTC)He slips a hand down between their bodies to grasp at the front of Merrick's trousers, groping him through the fabric with a sigh. A moment of teasing and his hand moves up a bit to slip under the waistband, slipping it down just a bit, before he grunts. "On your knees, then," he mutters, gently pushing Merrick off of his lap (though he'd rather do anything but). "I want to see you. Better, this time."
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Date: 2015-12-28 02:27 am (UTC)He's still throbbing between his legs, even worse now that he'd had those brief moments of touch. He pushes against his own hand whenever he's able as he works off his pants, peeling them off his hips and down his thighs.
Then his hands press against the mattress, fingers curling into the sheets. Presenting himself. Utterly vulnerable, a state he has to try not to fight against.
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Date: 2015-12-28 02:40 am (UTC)He moves to stand instead, hastily undoing the ties to his own trousers so that they can pool on the floor at his feet. Once he's undressed he gets to his knees on the bed behind Merrick and leans over him, a large, warm presence above him. He bends down and places a kiss against the back of Merrick's neck before starting to trail downward, placing hot kisses through the fabric of the shirt that still remains. When he gets to the base of Merrick's spine he pulls back so that he can move down further, bypassing what he wants to get to what he needs.
Metaari lays himself on his back and pulls Merrick down a little toward him, keeping the elf's legs splayed open on either side of his head, so that he can place hot, wet kisses to his inner thighs--and maybe, maybe, occasionally flicking a teasing tongue up to caress the balls and heated erection dangling above him.
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Date: 2015-12-28 03:20 am (UTC)"Creators!"
Just like last time, Metaari stuns Merrick by doing things that have never even occurred to him before. He grits his teeth and stifles a whimper, one hand darting up to clutch the headboard as Metaari's mouth moves over his skin. His hips move, trying to feel more, get more, as he squirms above Metaari.
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Date: 2015-12-28 03:59 am (UTC)He can't help himself; he has to take a moment to lightly tease Merrick's entrance with the head of his cock, rubbing the tip against his opening. Remember this? A faint grin spreads across Metaari's face before he finally aims himself lower, pressing on the outside of Merrick's thighs to push them together and around his warm girth. He sighs at the contact, glad for some sort of pressure finally, and he gives an experimental little thrust forward.
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Date: 2015-12-29 06:39 am (UTC)He holds still for the time being, allowing Metaari to manipulate his body to find just the right fit. One hand idly strokes his cock, smearing pre-cum over its tip, and he hums softly in contentment.
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Date: 2015-12-31 11:10 pm (UTC)Metaari hums low in his throat as he gives another slow thrust, pressing his hips forward and flush against Merrick's body before he pulls back. Another, and one more, and finally Metaari settles into a slow but steady rhythm. It feels better than he thought it would and he chuckles quietly. He bends his body over Merrick's back in order to place a kiss against his neck again before murmuring, "You're beautiful, you know? Absolutely beautiful."
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Date: 2015-12-31 11:41 pm (UTC)His vocal response, however, is full of doubt. "He says with a full view of my ass," he snarks back.
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