Angel Cruz and Levi Karter kneel between the sheets as the tattooed one grips Cruz’s hips, fingers probing deep while the other watches, mouth open in quiet focus. Levi’s smooth chest rises with each thrust, his grip tightening around Cruz’s waist as the first wet sounds fill the air. The bed dips under their weight, the close-up framing only the rough hands, the slick hole, and the way Levi’s breath hitches when Cruz’s fingers curl inside him.
