Johnny Rapid kneels on the grass, his smooth, slim frame bent forward as Urijah grips his hips and drives into him hard, the rhythmic thrusts sharp against the dappled light filtering through the trees. The blond’s fingers dig into the dirt as Urijah’s weight pinches his ass, each stroke deeper than the last, the striped shirt riding up to reveal the taut lines of his back. The air smells of damp earth and sweat, the only sound the wet slap of flesh meeting flesh, the way Johnny’s breath hitches when Urijah’s grip tightens just before he bottoms out.
