Marcelo Mastro’s tattooed, muscular frame pins Mikael Pezzine’s smooth, dark-haired body to the bed with a wrist strap, his grip unyielding as he drives deep with slow, deliberate thrusts. Mikael’s light hair brushes the sheets while his fingers trace the tight ring of his asshole, the two of them locked in a rhythm where every suck of Marcelo’s lips on his throat matches the wet, grinding pace of their cocks. The air hums with the sound of flesh slapping skin, the strap holding Mikael’s wrist steady as he takes every inch without flinching.
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