Jack Andy fucks Julian Knowles

Jack Andy’s muscular frame dominates as he presses the cold metal of the stethoscope to Julian Knowles’ broad chest, listening intently to the deep, steady rhythm beneath his tattooed skin. His fingers trace Julian’s ribs, then slide down his abdomen, measuring with a tape around his waist before moving to his back, each touch deliberate, clinical, as if mapping every ridge of muscle. Julian stands still, arms flexed, while Andy checks his shoulders, arms, and legs, the stethoscope’s click the only sound in the sterile blue room.