Rad Matthews kneels over Jase Bionx’s spread-eagled back, his tattooed arms gripping the wider shoulders while his mouth seals tight around the asshole, tongue probing deep. Bionx arches into the pressure, his fingers tangled in the dark hair at the nape as Rad’s other hand slides between his thighs, slicking the hole with deliberate strokes. The air hums with the wet sound of lips and the rasp of skin against skin, the kneeling man’s breath hot against the exposed flesh.
