Ayden James kneels between the legs of another, his dark hair framing a mouth that works the thick shaft with tight, deliberate strokes while the man above him grips his own cock, vein-ridged and heavy, his fingers slick with precome. The patterned carpet beneath them stains green where the can was left, forgotten, as one pulls back to lick the salt from the other’s chest, fingers already probing deep inside the waiting hole.
