Buddy Davis grips Colin Stride’s chest with calloused hands, his dark hair framing a body built for strength, while Stride leans in for a rough, open-mouthed kiss. The two men move together without hesitation, fingers digging into muscle as their mouths clash, tongues tangling in a deep, unhurried pull. Davis pins Stride against something unseen, his grip never loosening as the kiss turns into something harder, the air thick with the weight of their bodies.
