Nick Decker kneels behind Isaac Conn’s tight, flexed ass while his mouth works the hole hard, fingers digging into the dark hair as the other man leans forward on the couch, gripping the edge with a strained smile. Isaac stretches out beside them, his muscular frame loose but tense, watching as Decker’s tongue laps relentlessly against his asshole, no breaks, no hesitation. The only sound in the room is the wet, rhythmic suction, the box of tissues forgotten beside them.
