Logan Cross grips Brian Adams’ hips as he slams into him hard on the blanket, their sweat-slicked bodies pressed against the rough earth under the open sky. Adams moans deep, his fingers tangled in the dirt while Logan’s tattooed arms flex with every thrust, the sun casting sharp shadows over their straining backs. A hand slides between them, Logan’s tongue drags over Adams’ hole before his cock buries itself deeper, the air thick with the scent of pine and salt. No barriers, no hesitation, just the raw weight of one man holding the other down as the land watches.
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