Cody Seiya’s tattooed, dark-haired frame towers over the other as he grips the chair’s edge, his knuckles flexing against the wood while the standing man kneels between his thighs, tongue deep in his throat. The one on the ground doesn’t just suck, he works Cody’s mouth open wider, fingers tangling in his hair to pull him forward until the blond’s jaw aches. Both are built for it, muscles straining as the standing man’s grip tightens on Cody’s hips, his own cock already leaking against the fabric.
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