Shane Jackson’s beard scrapes against Jake Porter’s jaw as he grips his hips, fingers digging into the smooth muscle of his back while their tongues clash with rough, open-mouthed hunger. Jake’s arms wrap tight around Shane’s waist, his own body pressed flush against him, the heat of their skin burning through casual fabric as one pulls the other closer. The blond’s hands slide down, gripping hard enough to leave marks, before they both stumble back, only to lock lips again, teeth catching, breath ragged.
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