Sir Peter dominates with his thick beard and inked forearms, his grip tight around Pol Prince’s waist as he pins him against the brick wall, their mouths locked in a rough kiss. Jeffrey Lloyd, leaner but no less muscular, stands close, his tattooed chest pressed against Pol’s back while his fingers dig into the dark hair at his nape. The green tank top rides up just enough to show the curve of Pol’s ass as Sir Peter’s hand slides lower, claiming every inch.
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