Virgil Sainclair presses his mouth hard against Tristan Paris’s, fingers digging into the smooth muscle of his chest while the other man braces himself against the weathered wood. The fence creaks under Virgil’s weight as Tristan tilts his head back, exposing his throat to the rough pull of lips and teeth. Their bodies stay close, skin flush, the only movement the slow, deliberate press of hands tracing over ribs and shoulders.
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