Joel Tamir’s lean frame presses against the wall, his light brown hair falling just past his shoulders as Bjorn Nykvist kneels between his spread legs, fingers already tracing the tight, unshaven line of his asshole before diving in. The blond’s breath hitches as Nykvist’s tongue works the puckered hole, the wet sound of lips sealing around it cutting through the quiet. His hands grip the wall harder, knuckles whitening, while Nykvist’s bearded jaw scrapes against the smooth skin of his thighs.
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