Zod Blakk grips the iron bar like it’s his last breath, sweat slicing down his dark hair as he lifts it above his head, veins bulging in his arms. Beside him, Sean Xavier watches with a bearded intensity, his muscular frame coiled like he’s ready to step in, then he doesn’t, just leans in to press his mouth against Zod’s back, tongue sliding into the sweat-slicked dip between his shoulder blades. The gym’s metal racks loom behind them, but none of it matters when Zod’s grip slips, the bar crashing down, and Sean’s hands are already there, hauling him up by the waist before he hits the floor.
More galleries
