Daniel Star grips Jack Dragon’s hips while he kneels, his tattooed arms flexing as he works Jack’s cock with rough precision, military discipline turned to pleasure. Jack’s clean-shaven jaw tenses against the pressure of Star’s fingers, his own knuckles white where he clutches the metal-framed chair, the uniform’s stiff collar digging into his throat. The beret slumps as Star’s mouth seals over Jack’s shaft, the green metal frame of the chair framing them like a command.
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