Antony Lorca’s dark hair frames a face pressed into Kris Evans’ neck as he sucks hard, fingers digging into the smooth, muscular back while the other grips the bedsheets. Below, Kris takes it deep with a slow, deliberate thrust, his hole stretched wide as Antony’s weight pins him down, no hesitation, just the wet sound of flesh meeting flesh. The rimmed lips part with a wet pop, then the cock slides in, thick and unhurried, until only the base stays outside. No foreplay, no build, just the, unbroken rhythm of one man holding the other down while the other takes every inch.
