Branded

Sunbather Carlos Morales spots the brand etched into Cameron Fox's shoulder—a stark, deliberate mark against tanned skin. Cameron leans in close, his voice a low murmur. 'Initiation scar from the Order of the Falcon,' he says. 'An elite brotherhood of men. Earned it through a trial of pure, unyielding sex.' Carlos's pulse quickens; he craves the details, the secrets hidden beneath that ink. But Cameron's eyes harden. 'Not yet. Prove you're worthy first.' Inside, shadows play across the room as Cameron shoves Carlos onto the bed with raw command. He spreads those firm cheeks, fingers teasing the tight ring of muscle, circling slow then pressing in deep—preparing, claiming. Carlos yields, mouth watering as he drops to his knees. He takes Cameron's thick cock between his lips, sucking with fierce devotion, tongue swirling the shaft, drawing out every groan, every twitch of pleasure from the man above him. Relaxed now, pliant and open, Carlos arches back. Cameron thrusts in hard, hips snapping with relentless vigor, filling him completely—each stroke a pounding rhythm that builds like a storm. Sweat slicks their bodies; breaths tangle in the humid air. Climax crashes through Cameron, hot streams spilling across his own rippled abs, marking the peak. As the aftershocks fade, he grabs his phone. Snap. The photo captures it all—for the Order's eyes only.