Andrew Stark grips Greyson Myles’ hips hard as he drives into him under the spray, the water sluicing over their sweat-slicked skin. Greyson’s bearded jaw tenses as he braces against the wall, his lean body trembling with every thrust while Stark’s fingers dig into his waist. Before that, Stark’s mouth was wrapped tight around his cock, his own fist working in time, both of them slick with soap and need. The shower’s relentless stream hides nothing, just the, wet pressure of one man holding the other down.
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