Dean Young grips a wooden mallet while Felix Fox leans against a pole, both in Norse-inspired leathers, their muscles taut beneath the tight fits. They alternate between crushing tools into the air and pressing their mouths together, the leather creaking as they shift between dominance and submission. The mallets clatter against the floor as one kneels, gripping the other’s thighs, while the other stands, his grip never loosening. By the end, the leather falls away, leaving only sweat and the unmistakable marks of their struggle.
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