Silas Rise and Clyde Walton stand bound to the wall, their chains glinting under the light, one dark-haired and lean, the other’s face pressed close to the cold metal. Clyde’s fingers trace the taut skin of Silas’s throat, gripping just enough to make the breath hitch before his mouth crashes down, teeth sinking into the pulse. The air thickens with the wet sound of Silas’s throat working around Clyde’s tongue, his hands clawing at the restraints as the other man’s grip tightens, fingers digging into the slope of his shoulder.
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