Bo Knight rides with his tattooed, muscular frame gripping the chain of his motorcycle, the leather harness tight against his chest as he adjusts the gear with deliberate precision. His dark-haired partner leans in, lips sealing over his throat while fingers trace the tight heat between his thighs, the chain clinking softly against the seat. The air hums with the low growl of the engine as one pulls back just enough to watch the other’s mouth work, teeth scraping over skin before the grip tightens again, no words, just the pull of need.
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