Brenden Cage and Trent Locke

Brenden Cage’s thick arms grip Trent Locke’s hips as he pins him to the desk, the blond’s knuckles white against the smooth skin. Locke arches into the fingers digging into his ass, his dark hair falling forward as Cage’s mouth seals over his cock, the suction tight and relentless. The office chair creaks behind them, but neither moves, only the wet sounds of lips and the sharp inhale when Cage’s teeth graze the shaft.