Wise decision

Two men in a plain bedroom, one in a striped shirt, the other bare-chested, start with slow, deliberate touches: fingers tracing collarbones, lips pressing against necks and shoulders. The shirt comes off, then hands slide down bodies, gripping hips, teasing thighs. Fingers work between legs while mouths follow, teasing skin, tasting salt. The last buttons of the shirt unbuttoned, the last piece of fabric discarded, until both are naked. One kneels, stroking, licking, while the other arches back, breath hitching. Hands grip, mouths take turns, teeth grazing, tongues swirling, before one pushes inside, slow and deep, while the other’s fingers dig in, guiding the rhythm. No words, just skin on skin, the bed creaking under shifting weight, the air thick with the sound of wet heat.