Tomas Brand pins Drake Rogers against the rough bark of a rock, his grip tight as Drake’s breath hitches between kisses, one hand gripping Tomas’s shoulder, the other tangled in his dark hair. The forest air is thick with the scent of pine and sweat as Tomas shoves Drake forward, his muscular frame pressing him into the uneven stone, fingers digging into the rock behind him. The way Drake’s body bends, his ass lifted just enough to expose the dark, glistening slit, makes Tomas’s grip even harder.
