Michael Rogue and Trevor Knight

Michael Rogue lies flat on his back, his dark hair slicked back, while Trevor Knight kneels between his thighs, a strap wrapped tight around his hip as he prepares to rim. Rogue’s smooth, muscular body stays still as Knight’s tongue traces the tight ring, then slips inside, fingers working the hole open. The blue surface beneath them stays unmarked as they switch between deep kisses and slow, deliberate licks, the air thick with the sound of wet suction and the occasional groan.