Logan Cross sits bound across Josh Brady’s lap, his lean body tense as the strap cracks against his bare ass, hard enough to leave red marks. Brady grips his hips, fingers digging in as he spanks him again and again, his own clean-shaven jaw tight with control. Logan’s hands clutch the couch cushion, his breath sharp, while Brady adjusts the strap between swats, the leather biting deeper with each strike. When they stop, Brady’s mouth finds Logan’s, their kiss rough with the weight of what just happened.
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