Blake Mitchell’s hand slaps Trevor Harris’s bare ass with sharp, rhythmic force, the sound cutting through the air as the smaller man arches into the sting. One grips his hips, fingers digging into flesh while the other kneels behind, his muscular frame looming over the couch where Trevor lies sprawled, legs spread wide for the next strike. Their mouths crash together between blows, tongues tangling as Blake’s free hand massages the reddening skin, fingers tracing the heat before the next crack of leather, or skin, lands.
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