Adam Snow grips Zack Dean’s hips as he drives deep, the woods around them swallowed by the sound of skin slapping skin, no uniforms left, just, hairy chests pressed together. Zack’s fingers dig into Adam’s ass, pulling him back as he takes every inch, the red scarf tangled in his fist like a leash. The first thrusts are slow, deliberate, but soon Adam’s breath turns ragged, his cock buried so far Zack’s lips part around a choked gasp. Before long, the only thing holding them together is the way Adam’s hands grip Zack’s thighs, his own body trembling as he fucks him hard enough to make the trees tremble.
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