Manuel Skye’s broad chest presses against Braxton Boyd’s mouth as he grips his jaw, fingers digging into the smooth skin of his throat while the bench creaks beneath them. The sunlight filters through the rocks, casting sharp shadows over Boyd’s taut muscles as Skye’s tongue forces its way past his lips, teeth scraping just hard enough to make him whimper. His hands slide down, gripping the back of Boyd’s thighs to pull him closer, the outdoor air thick with the sound of skin meeting skin.
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