Nighthawken

In the steam room's humid embrace, Martin Valko and Jan Cerman let the heat coax beads of sweat from their skin, desires simmering beneath the haze. They rise, muscles loose and glistening, and slip into the showers. Cool water cascades over them, washing away the steam's cling. They towel dry with slow, deliberate strokes, eyes locking in silent promise. In the bedroom, shadows play across bare bodies. Jan drops to his knees, lips parting to take Martin deep, tongue swirling with eager precision until Martin's breath hitches. Then Jan turns, offering his tight hole, legs spreading wide. Martin enters him smoothly, thrusts building a rhythm that's tender yet fierce—romance woven into every push. Jan shudders, spilling again as pleasure crests.