Florian Mraz grips Eric Spector’s hips, his dark hair framing a face buried between his thighs as he works his tongue over the tight hole. The muscles of Spector’s back ripple under Florian’s fingers, which stretch him open before he lines up and drives into him hard, the couch groaning beneath them. Close-up, the wet sounds of sucking and the sharp inhale of Eric’s breath fill the air as Florian takes him deep, his own grip tightening on the smooth skin of Spector’s thighs.
