Two broad-shouldered men in the woods, one with a football gripped tight between them, their slick, sun-baked skin pressed together as they kiss hard enough to bruise. The shorter one’s hands dig into the other’s waist, fingers flexing over taut muscle while his mouth opens wider, tongue forcing its way past lips still damp from the first rough pull. The grass crunches under their boots as they stumble forward, the ball forgotten, his grip shifting to yank the other down by the collar, then his teeth sink into the neck just below the ear.
