Caleb Strong grips Malachi Marx’s jaw, fingers digging into his smooth, dark hair as he presses his mouth down hard, tongue forcing past lips that part just enough to let him in. The mirror behind them reflects the way Marx’s muscles ripple under his skin when Strong’s grip tightens, his own breath ragged against the glass. One hand slides down to grip his own cock through the fabric, stroking slow and deliberate while the other holds Marx’s face in place.
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