Collin Stone pins Robbie Anthony over the desk, his tattooed arms flexing as he drives into his asshole with rough, unrelenting thrusts while Robbie’s fingers dig into the wood, his dark hair falling forward. The younger man’s hole is stretched wide as Collin’s tongue laps at the slickness, then his mouth seals over the tight ring, sucking hard before his teeth graze the sensitive skin. Hands grip each other’s hips, thighs, the desk’s edge, no words, just the wet sounds of fingers probing deeper, the desk creaking under their weight as they strip off clothes in the same breath.
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