Mike Edge pins Max Lorde to the bed, his grip tight around the smaller man’s hips as he drives in deep with slow, deliberate strokes. Max’s head drops back, his mouth open in a silent gasp, while Edge’s beard brushes against his throat as he works him over with rough, unhurried thrusts. The strap around Edge’s waist keeps him steady, his knuckles white where they dig into the sheets, while Max’s fingers dig into the mattress, his body trembling under the relentless pressure. The air thickens with the sound of flesh slapping, the only light coming from the shadows where Edge’s graying hair catches the dim glow.
