Tommy Clapton grips Tim Moffie’s hips as he pins him against the couch, his fingers digging into the smooth, muscular back while the blond’s lips trail down his throat. Moffie arches into the touch, his slim frame trembling as Clapton’s mouth seals over his neck, teeth grazing the pulse. The only sound is the rasp of breath against skin, the couch creaking under their weight as one hand slides between them, fingers finding the tight heat of his ass.
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