Jeroen Mondrian’s dark hair brushes against Kevin Warhol’s smooth, sun-kissed skin as he grips his waist, fingers digging into the taut muscle of his back. Warhol leans in, lips parting for a deep, open-mouthed kiss while Mondrian’s hand slides down, gripping his cock through the fabric. The grass beneath them rustles as one pulls the other closer, the air thick with the weight of their bodies pressed together.
