Casey, Vitali, Andy and Rhys

Rhys and Casey kneel on the cabin floor, one gripping the other’s hips while their tongue drags slow circles over the tattooed stretch of thigh before diving deeper. The lean one’s fingers work the tight hole with deliberate pressure, while the muscular one takes over with a rough, hungry mouth, teeth scraping just hard enough to make the other gasp. The couch behind them is stained dark, no sheets, no hesitation, just the wet sound of skin slapping skin as one flips them both onto their stomachs and drives in without warning.