Iron Will

Marcus Iron moves with deliberate grace, his eyes locked on Billy Kincaid as he peels away his shirt, revealing the taut lines of his chest. The air thickens with anticipation. He sways closer, hips rolling in a rhythm that promises more, unbuttoning his jeans with fingers that tease the zipper down inch by inch. Fabric slides off his skin like a lover's whisper, exposing the hard ridge of his arousal. Billy watches, breath hitching, his own cock straining against his pants. Marcus drops to his knees, close enough for Billy to feel the heat radiating from his body. He grinds against Billy's thigh, a slow drag that builds the fire. Then Marcus stands, shoving down his briefs, his thick shaft springing free—veined and ready. He strokes himself once, twice, eyes never leaving Billy's flushed face. Billy's tight, young ass clenches in eager wait, begging for the invasion. Marcus positions him, spreads those firm cheeks, and thrusts in deep. He pounds with relentless force, each slam driving Billy to the edge. Sweat slicks their skin; moans fill the room. Billy takes it all, body arching, until the pleasure shatters him—he shoots his load in hot spurts, spent and trembling, as Marcus claims every last quiver.