Nate Grimes grips Ace Stallion’s tight hole with a thick, gloved fist while he braces himself on the bench, his muscles straining under the pressure. The towel beneath them absorbs the slick sound of fingers probing deeper, their mouths locked in a rough kiss as Nate’s other hand massages Ace’s ass. The air hums with the slow, deliberate stretch of a fist pushing past resistance, both men focused only on the burn and the way it fills him.
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