Mandriven

In the dim, pulsing haze of the sex club, Karl Thomas's gaze locks onto Steven Ryder, that long-haired god with eyes like shadowed promises. Ryder moves with predatory grace, pinning Thomas against the leather-clad wall. He mounts him like a champion claiming his throne, thrusting deep, bodies merging in a slick, unrelenting rhythm. They plunge real deep, gasps and groans weaving through the air, lost in the raw heat of surrender.