Tomas Brand dominates with a grip that holds Darius Ferdynand’s hips tight while his tongue works deep into his mouth, fingers already slipping inside the tight hole. Dirk Caber watches from the edge of the bed, his jaw set, as Brand’s muscular frame presses down, no hesitation, just the force of taking what he wants. Ferdynand arches into the touch, his dark hair damp with sweat, the bed sheets rumpled where Brand’s weight pins him down. The only sound is the wet slap of skin against skin, the breathless gasp when fingers twist just right.
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