Greased

Peter Axel slips into the men's room, heart pounding, eyes locking onto Dominic Rider by the sinks. Dominic turns, a smirk curling his lips, his broad shoulders straining against his shirt. No words needed. Peter closes the distance, grabs Dominic's belt, yanks it open with urgent fingers. Dominic's hands grip Peter's hips, pulling him flush, their mouths crashing in a fierce kiss—teeth clashing, tongues battling for dominance. Peter's palm slides down, freeing Dominic's thickening cock, stroking it firm and fast. Dominic growls low, spins Peter against the cool tile wall, shoves his pants down. Rough hands part Peter's cheeks, spit-slick fingers probing, preparing. Then Dominic thrusts in deep, hard, filling him completely. Peter gasps, nails digging into the wall, as Dominic pounds relentlessly—skin slapping, breaths ragged. Sweat beads on their skin, the air thick with musk and raw need. Dominic's grip tightens, pace brutal, until they both shatter, spilling hot and unchecked.