Tristan West pins Ryder Owens down with a tattooed forearm while his lips seal around the other’s cock, fingers already working his hole open. Ryder arches into the touch, his dark hair fanned across the sheets as Tristan’s grip tightens around his waist. The bed creaks under them both, pillows propped behind Ryder’s head as Tristan’s tongue traces a wet path down his spine before diving between his cheeks. When he finally drives in, Ryder’s breath hitches, hard, deep thrusts follow, each one pulling a choked gasp from his throat.
