Kit Cohen’s tattooed, muscular frame pins Maverick Sun to the bed, his clean-shaven jaw locked over the other’s throat while his fingers probe deep inside. The lean, dark-haired man arches beneath him, his hole stretched wide as Cohen’s cock drives in hard, bareback, the wooden surface groaning under their weight. Sun’s tongue traces Cohen’s ribs before his lips seal around the thick shaft, his own fingers slipping between his own cheeks as Cohen’s grip tightens on his hips. The air thickens with the wet sounds of sucking and the slick drag of flesh against flesh, their bodies slick with sweat and need.
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