Dominic Brown’s dark hair frames a face pressed into Micah Brandt’s throat as his fingers dig into the smooth, corded muscles of Brandt’s back, holding him steady against the wall. Brandt’s lips part around Brown’s, tongue deep and deliberate, while the other man’s grip tightens, pulling him closer until their bodies press flush. The only sound is the rough rasp of breath and the faint rustle of leaves behind them, the greenery a blurred backdrop to the way Brown’s hand slides down, gripping Brandt’s hip hard enough to mark.
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