Code Of Conduct 2: Deliverance

Jake Andrews gripped Dean Spencer's hair, pulling his head back one last time. 'Suck it,' he commanded, voice rough with command. Dean's lips parted, taking Jake's cock deep into his mouth, tongue swirling with desperate hunger. Jake groaned, thrusting once, twice, before yanking free. He unclasped the leather slave collar from Dean's neck—cool metal and worn hide sliding away like a shed skin. With deliberate slowness, Jake buckled it around his own throat, the click echoing in the dim room. Now the power flipped, sharp as a blade's edge. Dean's eyes gleamed, a predator tasting freedom. He shoved Jake to his knees. 'My turn,' Dean murmured, guiding Jake's mouth to his throbbing cock. Jake obeyed, lips stretching wide, sucking with eager abandon—wet, slurping pulls that made Dean's hips buck. Pleasure surged through Dean, unrestrained. He could take what he craved. Grinning wickedly, he snatched the nightstick from the table, its smooth length cool against his palm. Jake bent forward, ass presented like an offering. Dean pressed the tip against that tight ring, pushing in slow, inch by unyielding inch, until Jake moaned around his shaft, the dual invasion twisting them both in exquisite torment.