Deflowered by soldiers

Gregor Clark dominates Kamil Fox with a fist while Alex Grander watches, his dark hair framing a face carved from discipline. The mirrored surface captures Kamil’s gasps as Gregor’s knuckles stretch him open, fingers tracing the tight ring before the wider invasion. Alex, smaller but no less solid, kneels behind Kamil, his tongue tracing the forbidden line where ass meets hole before Gregor takes his turn, the uniform’s stiff fabric already discarded. The scene ends with all three bare, the air thick with the weight of what’s been done and what’s left to claim.