Hot Pursuit

David Montana pushed through the dim haze of the old San Francisco Pit, the air thick with sweat and low moans. There, in a shadowed booth, he spotted them: Ted Matthews and Cameron Taylor, lost in a fevered tangle with Steve Vega, the bartender whose lean muscles gleamed under the faint lights. Steve knelt between them, his mouth working Cameron's thick cock with urgent pulls, tongue swirling the swollen head while his hand pumped Ted's rigid length in slick, rhythmic strokes. Ted groaned, fingers twisting in Steve's dark hair, guiding him deeper. Cameron arched back, hips bucking, his free hand roaming Ted's chest, pinching a nipple hard enough to draw a sharp gasp. Bodies slick and pressing close, they moved as one—Steve's throat taking Cameron fully now, gagging softly, while Ted leaned in to claim Cameron's mouth in a bruising kiss, their moans blending into the club's pulse.