Drake Rogers grips Jeffrey Lloyd’s wrist as their lips crash together, fingers tracing inked lines down his chest while the other’s tattooed arm locks around his waist. Lloyd’s mouth opens wider, tongue pressing deep as Rogers’ grip tightens, pulling him closer with rough, possessive force. The air between them is thick with the weight of their bodies, muscles straining, skin slick with sweat, each movement deliberate, each touch claiming.
