Armond Rizzo bends forward over the man on the bed, his tattoos tracing the curve of his back as he presses his mouth hard against his throat, while the other sits with his legs spread, gripping the sheets. The standing man’s dark hair falls forward as he guides himself into the one below, his grip tight on the hips that lift just enough to take him deep. Both move in sync, the bed creaking under the weight of their thrusts, the tattoos on their arms flexing with every pull.
