Damien Dyson’s dark hair and sharp glasses contrast with Andy Samuel’s smooth, lean frame as he grips the bearded man’s arm, tattoos visible beneath the red tank top. They lean in close, lips meeting hard on the rooftop, fingers digging into muscle while the other’s mouth opens wide for deep, unhurried thrusts. The air between them is thick with the sound of skin slapping, the only thing holding back the moment when Samuel’s grip tightens and Dyson’s breath hitches.
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