Welsey Kincaid and Cain smoke side by side, the cigarette between them burning low as one grips the other’s wrist, fingers calloused from lifting. The dark-haired, tattooed man on his back arches slightly, his hole already wet from the tongue tracing its rim, while the one above him leans in to press his weight down, teeth sinking into the neck just before the first drag. His hand slides between them, fingers probing deep as the smoke curls between them, thick and slow.
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