Andre Boleyn grips Sean Davis’s hips, his dark hair framing a muscular frame as he pins him to the bed, while Davis’s smooth, slim body arches beneath him. The light blue shirt clings to Boleyn’s chest as he leans in, lips crashing against Davis’s mouth in a rough, openmouthed kiss. Fingers dig into flesh, tracing the sharp lines of Davis’s ribs before sliding lower, the air thick with the sound of skin meeting skin.
More galleries
