Marc Ruffalo’s beard scrapes against Maori Mortensen’s jaw as he pins him down, fingers already working the slick hole while his mouth seals over the other’s. The dark-haired one beneath lets out a low groan as Ruffolo’s tongue drags up his throat, his hips twitching against the rough grip of a hand. The bed creaks under their weight, the only sound the wet smack of lips and the sharp inhale of breath when a finger curls just right.
