Stanley James kneels on the countertop, his tattooed arm gripping Liam Zayn’s hips as he rims him with deliberate precision. The clean-shaven man arches into the touch, his fingers probing while Stanley’s mouth works the tight hole with focused intensity. Their bodies move in sharp, controlled motions, one dominating, the other yielding, until the thrusts grow harder, the countertop creaking under their weight.
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