Ty Roderick’s tattooed arms flex as he grips Blain O’Connor’s hips, the dark-haired man’s muscular back arched under his grip while his hole glistens with slick anticipation. Blain’s clean-shaven jaw tightens as Ty drives deep, each thrust pulling a sharp gasp from his throat. The only thing that makes this different is the way Ty’s knuckles bruise Blain’s skin with every slam.
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