Max Flint’s hands grip Johnny Forza’s hips as he pulls him closer, the dark hair of both men framing the tension between them. Johnny’s muscular back arches slightly, his smooth skin catching the light as Max presses forward, the patterned bedspread beneath them barely visible through the blur of movement. They strip away clothes, leaving only the sharp lines of their bodies, one’s grip firm, the other’s breath steady as the first thrust begins.
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