The Breach, Part 1: Seized

Logan Reed, Robert Balint, Roland Dane, and Antonio Vega chase a slippery culprit through the dusty backroads, their badges glinting under the relentless sun. Sweat soaks their shirts as they scour the underbrush for clues, bodies brushing close in the heat of the hunt. Tension builds like a storm on the horizon. Logan drops to his knees first, unzipping Robert's fly with urgent fingers, taking his thick cock deep into his mouth. Robert groans, hands fisting Logan's hair, thrusting with raw need. Roland watches, his own arousal straining against denim, before Antonio pulls him in, grinding hard against his ass. They strip fast—boots kicked aside, pants shoved down. Logan bends Robert over a fallen log, slicking his hole with spit before plunging in, hips snapping in a fierce rhythm. Robert's moans echo through the trees. Roland straddles Antonio's face, riding his tongue while stroking himself, pre-cum slicking his palm. They switch, a tangle of limbs and lust: Antonio fucks Roland from behind, deep and unyielding, while Logan claims Robert's mouth again. Grunts mix with the rustle of leaves. One by one, they shatter—Logan first, spilling hot inside Robert; Robert follows, pulsing down Logan's throat; Roland arches, cum arcing across Antonio's chest; Antonio last, burying deep in Roland with a guttural cry. Relief washes over them, spent and sated, the chase forgotten in the afterglow.