Foul Play

Cort Jensen steps through the door, his eyes locking onto Derek Cruise lounging on the couch, tension thick in the air between them. Words tumble out—apologies, regrets—but they dissolve into a kiss, soft at first, lips brushing like a whispered promise. Derek's hands slide up Cort's back, pulling him close, their bodies pressing together in that familiar ache of reunion. Tenderness lingers as Cort kneels, his fingers tracing the line of Derek's jaw before dipping lower, unbuckling his belt with deliberate care. Derek sighs, head tipping back, as Cort frees his hardening cock, wrapping warm lips around the tip. Slow strokes build the heat, tongues dancing in slick rhythm, but the fire ignites quick. Cort's mouth works deeper, sucking with growing hunger, his own arousal straining against his jeans. Derek groans, fingers threading through Cort's hair, urging him on. But Cort rises, shedding clothes in a rush, his gaze fierce now. He pushes Derek back, straddling him, guiding that thick shaft to his entrance. Slick with need, Cort sinks down, inch by inch, a gasp escaping as he takes him fully. They move together—slow rolls turning to urgent thrusts, hips snapping in raw sync. Sweat beads on their skin, breaths ragged, the room echoing with moans that chase away the fight. Cort rides him hard, chasing release, until they shatter, bodies locked in shuddering bliss.