Damien Stone’s tattooed arms flex against the brick, his grip tightening as he pins Jeremy Spreadums to the chains, while the other’s dark hair falls forward as he takes the first deep thrust. Jeremy’s hole clenches around him, his fingers digging into Damien’s shoulders as the graffiti-walled space hums with the wet sound of fucking. The chains creak, the brick stays silent, only the, unbroken rhythm of one man buried deep inside the other matters.
