Ryan Connors grips Bobby Hart’s hips as he pins him against the shower wall, his tattooed arm coiled tight around the smaller man’s waist while Bobby’s mouth opens wide for the first thrust. The hot stream arcs between them, splashing onto the wet tiles as Connors guides the stream with a rough hand, his own breath ragged against Bobby’s neck. Bobby licks the salt from his lips, his fingers tangling in Connors’ dark hair as the shower stall fills with the sound of their bodies and the steady, unbroken spray.
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