Sir Peter, broad-shouldered and bearded, grips Ruslan’s muscular chest while their lips crash together, fingers digging into the dark-haired man’s skin as he pulls him closer. The blue pants ride low on Ruslan’s hips, his hands gripping Peter’s waist in return, nails tracing the line of his belt. Their mouths move urgently, teeth catching, while Peter’s dominant hold never wavers.
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