Matt Wylde and Seamus O'Reilly

Matt Wylde’s thick fingers split Seamus O’Reilly’s tight hole while his smooth, tattooed chest presses against the cold steel of a bench press. The blond grips the barbell, his muscles straining as he guides the stretch, his own hand already slick with pre-cum from fingering Seamus’s ass. Their hands clasp tight, knuckles white, as the weight digs into the floor, no words, just the wet pop of flesh and the slow, deliberate pull of a fist buried deep.