Troye Dean’s lean, dark-haired body sprawls across the couch, legs splayed wide as Luke Connors kneels between them, his bearded jaw tight with focus. The first long, slow drag of his tongue against Troye’s stretched hole leaves a glistening trail, fingers digging into the couch’s edge as he braces. A sharp gasp cuts off mid-sentence when Luke’s teeth graze the sensitive rim before he pulls back, mouth already slick with the first thick pulse of cum. The couch cushions creak under Troye’s weight as he arches up, gripping the armrests, his breath ragged, this isn’t just checking, it’s claiming.
