Dirk Caber and a new muscle god

Dirk Caber dominates a muscular, olive-skinned man strapped to a wooden frame, his tattoos glinting under the wax that drips hot and unchecked down his chest. The clean-shaven, dark-haired god gasps as Caber’s fist stretches him open, his bloodied torso and face already marked by the burn of submission. Ropes bite deep into his wrists, holding him still while Caber leans in, lips crushing his mouth in a kiss that tastes of pain and surrender.