Ely Chaim dominates Koby Lewis on his back, his tattoos tracing the curve of his spine as he grips the sheets. Koby’s hole glistens under the pressure of Ely’s fingers, his dark hair framing a face lost in the slow pull of a tongue against his throat. The bearded man’s grip tightens, his muscular chest pressing down as he guides himself forward, the first thick thrust already claiming Koby’s ass.
