Someone's Watching

Trevor Hansen bursts through the door, sweat glistening on his toned frame after a punishing jog that left his muscles humming. He spots Brock Logan in the kitchen, wiping down counters with efficient strokes, his shirt clinging to his broad back. Brock straightens, grabs his keys, ready to bolt. But Trevor steps close, voice low and coaxing, his hand brushing Brock's arm. 'Stay,' he murmurs. 'Work on me instead.' Brock hesitates, eyes darkening with hunger, then nods. Trevor sheds his running shorts, revealing his thick cock already swelling with need. Brock drops to his knees on the cool tile, mouth watering as he wraps his lips around the pulsing shaft. He sucks deep, tongue swirling over the ridged head, drawing out Trevor's low groan. Saliva slicks the length as Brock bobs, taking him to the hilt, throat relaxing to swallow every inch. Trevor threads fingers through Brock's hair, guiding the rhythm, hips bucking lightly. Not content to stop there, Brock pulls back, breathless, and turns Trevor around. He spreads those firm cheeks, diving in with a hungry lick. His tongue probes the tight ring of Trevor's asshole, circling, teasing, then plunging inside with wet, insistent strokes. Trevor braces against the counter, ass clenching and releasing under the assault, pleasure spiking through him like a live wire. Brock rims him relentlessly, beard scraping sensitive skin, until Trevor's legs tremble. Finally, Trevor spins, eyes fierce. He bends over the counter, presenting himself fully—ass arched high, hole slick and inviting. Brock stands, frees his own massive dick, rock-hard and throbbing. He lines up, grips Trevor's hips, and thrusts in deep. No mercy. He fucks the hell out of him, pounding with raw power, balls slapping against skin. Trevor pushes back, meeting every brutal stroke, their grunts filling the air as Brock drives them both toward shattering release.