Romeo Davis, broad-shouldered and bearded with ink tracing his arms, pins Jack Bailey down by the hips while the clean-shaven, light-haired man lies sprawled beneath him. His fingers probe Jack’s tight hole, then his tongue traces the rim before diving in, the bed creaking under their weight as Romeo’s grip tightens. The couch nearby holds a discarded towel, evidence of the wet, relentless work between them.
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