Sam Truitt’s beard scratches Trevor Spade’s smooth chest as he pulls his head down for a deep kiss, fingers already working the tight hole of the one stretched out beneath him. The striped pillows bite into Truitt’s shoulders as he braces himself, his tattooed arm flexing around Spade’s waist while his other hand dives in without hesitation. Spade’s lips part around Truitt’s tongue, his body already trembling from the slow, deliberate pressure of a finger pushing past resistance.
