DeAngelo Jackson dominates Alam Wernik on the toilet seat, his grip firm around the smaller man’s hips as he guides himself inside with rough precision. Wernik’s light hair is damp, his smooth skin slick with sweat as Jackson’s dark, muscular frame pins him down, fingers digging into the curve of his ass. The bathroom’s confined space sharpens the weight of each thrust, the sound of flesh meeting flesh the only noise in the room.
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