The Breach, Part 1: Seized

Lance Gear and Scott Austin prowled the dim bedroom, hunting clues to Colby's vanishing. Dust motes danced in the slanting light as they rifled drawers. Then, jackpot: a hidden cache spilled out—bottles of slick lube, crisp rubber gloves, and an arsenal of dildos, thick and veined, promising untold depths. Lance's eyes gleamed, a predator's spark. He wouldn't let this bounty gather dust. 'On your knees,' he growled, voice low and commanding. Scott dropped, breath hitching, his body already taut with need. Lance snapped on a glove, the latex whisper sharp against skin, and slathered lube over a girthy toy. He pressed it against Scott's entrance, teasing, then thrust it deep. Scott gasped, arching, his pleas spilling out like wine—'More, fuck, give me more.' Lance obliged, relentless. He worked the dildo in punishing rhythms, stretching Scott wide, then swapped for his fist, knuckles slick and unyielding. Scott panted, sweat-slicked and desperate, begging through gritted teeth as Lance claimed him utterly, filling that hungry ass until ecstasy shattered them both.