Shawn Wolfe’s fist slams into Sean Zevran’s asshole on a blood-slicked wooden surface, the knuckles from repeated force, while Zevran’s lips seal around Wolfe’s throat in a desperate, bruising kiss. The air thickens with the wet sound of flesh stretching, Wolfe’s grip unrelenting as he works Zevran’s hole wider, his own breath ragged from the effort. Zevran’s knees dig into the wood, his body trembling between the pain and the relentless pressure of Wolfe’s fingers.
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