Thomas Fiaty and Luke Desmond stand in the sunlight between the trees, where the air smells of damp earth and pine, their bodies slick with sweat and desire. Fiaty grips Desmond’s waist, fingers probing deep while his mouth seals around the other’s cock, swallowing hard as he chokes on the thick, salty taste. Desmond arches into it, one hand tangled in Fiaty’s short dark hair, the other jerking himself off with rough, desperate strokes. The woods swallow their moans, the only sounds the wet smack of lips and the rasp of skin against bark as they push each other closer to the edge.
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