Jason Domino’s beard scrapes against Danny Montero’s bare chest as he grips his hips, fingers digging into the smooth muscle while Montero kneels, his mouth open in a deep, wet kiss. Domino’s hand slides down to grip the back of Montero’s neck, pulling him closer as his other fingers trace the curve of his ass. The air is thick with the sound of skin meeting skin, their bodies locked in a slow, deliberate rhythm.
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