Logan Scott’s broad chest presses down as he grips Dominic Pacifico’s hips, his dark hair falling forward over the smooth, muscular back beneath him, while Dominic’s fingers work his hole with steady precision. The red couch frames them as Logan drives in hard, his weight pinning Dominic’s ass against the fabric, the rimmed lips already slick with anticipation. Fingers dig into the taut globes, guiding each thrust deeper, the air thick with the sound of flesh meeting flesh.
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