Arthur Gordon kneels in the damp earth beside a trickling stream, his dark hair slicked back as Matthias Vannelli grips his hips and drives into him with rough, unrelenting strokes. Matthias’s smooth, muscular frame bends forward, his mouth sealing over Gordon’s neck while his fingers probe deep inside, the water glistening on their skin. The woods swallow their groans, the only sound the wet slap of flesh meeting flesh as one pulls back only to slam harder.
