Vito Gallo grips Jesse Santana’s hips, his tattooed arms flexing as he pulls the other man’s hole wide open with brutal precision. The cracked stone wall behind them offers no mercy, just the rough texture of a surface that won’t give. Santana’s dark hair falls forward as Gallo’s fingers dig deep, testing the stretch with relentless force. No words, no hesitation, just the, unyielding work of opening him up.
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