Abel Lacourt & Loic Miller

Abel Lacourt grips Loïc Miller’s hips as he kneels in the shallow pool water, his tongue tracing the tight ring of his asshole while Miller arches back, fingers tangled in his dark hair. The cap shadows his face as he moans, lips parted around the suction of Abel’s mouth, their bodies slick with chlorine and sweat. Loïc’s smooth, athletic frame trembles as Abel’s grip tightens, his own hands gripping the edge of the pool, lost in the wet, desperate rhythm of their mouths and fingers.