Angelo Marconi grips Brock Avery’s hips, his tattooed arms flexing as he slams into him from behind, the mirror reflecting the way Avery’s dark hair sweats against the glass. Brock’s fingers dig into the bed while Angelo’s mouth seals over his cock, the suction so tight it makes Avery’s breath hitch before he turns his head just enough to let Angelo’s tongue trace his asshole. The air thickens with the wet sound of fingers probing, then Angelo’s cock sliding home, the two of them moving in sync as Avery’s grip tightens on the sheets.
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