Tomas Brand grips Jesse Santana’s hips, his tattooed chest pressed tight as he slams into him hard enough to make the water ripple behind them. Jesse’s smooth, dark hair sweats against the air, his muscles straining as Tomas drives deeper, the outdoor light catching the sheen of sweat on their skin. Their lips crash together, teeth clashing, while Tomas’s hands dig into the lean flesh of Santana’s waist, no gentleness, just, unbroken thrusts. The pool’s edge is close enough to touch, but neither man stops.
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