Derek Atlas grips his cock hard, his dark hair falling forward as he leans back on the bench, muscles straining under his black sleeveless shirt. Cayden Ross watches, his own hand already working the thick shaft, the tattooed skin glistening with sweat. They don’t speak, just focus on the slow, deliberate strokes, the way their breaths sync as they build toward release. The bench creaks under their weight, the only sound the wet slap of flesh against flesh.
