Ty Roderick’s hands grip Trent Ferris’s hips as he kneels, fingers sliding deep into the tight hole while their mouths crash together. The dark-haired, muscular man above drives in slow, deliberate strokes, his grip firm on Trent’s waist as he works the fingers in and out. The bed creaks under them, the only sound the wet, rhythmic thrusts of his fingers and the rough, open-mouthed kiss between them.
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