Desert Oasis

Ty Russell and Tom Sawyer clash under the open sky, bodies taut and eager. They dive right in, faces inches apart, tongues tracing the sharp lines of jaws, lapping at sweat-slick skin. Ty sucks hard on Tom's collarbone, probes the dip of his throat with hungry flicks. Tom retaliates, licking the ridges of Ty's abs, sucking peaks of nipples that harden under his mouth, exploring every valley from chest to hip. Their slim, trim frames twist together in the wild, breaths ragged. Then Daryl Brock strides in, uninvited heat in his eyes. He joins without a word, turning their fierce duo into a blazing tangle of three—hands roaming, mouths claiming, bodies grinding in urgent rhythm.