Dalton Briggs grips Beaux Banks’ hips as he drives into his ass, the patterned yellow couch covers creaking under their weight. Beaux arches back, his dark hair falling forward as Dalton’s tattoos flex with every thrust, fingers already tracing his hole before the cock even hits. Dalton’s name tag glints in the light as he pulls Beaux closer, his mouth sealing over the tight ring while his other hand works the slicked-up flesh. The only sound is the wet slap of skin and the rough exhale of two men lost in the grip of each other’s bodies.
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