Tristan Hunter dominates Marcus Tresor with relentless thrusts, his grip tightening around the smaller man’s hips as the firelight flickers behind them. Marcus stands rigid, his smooth, muscular frame bared by the end, while Hunter’s power drives him into the wall, no hesitation, just the brutal rhythm of a man who takes what he wants. The only sound is the slap of flesh against asshole, the wet, obscene sound of a hole stretched wide by a cock that doesn’t stop.
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