Nightwatchmen

Lawman Derek Reynolds cuffs suspect Hunter Vance, hauling him in for processing. He pulls out his thick black baton to cow the rascal. But Hunter smirks, spotting opportunity in the threat. He drops to his knees, lips wrapping around Derek's rigid shaft, sucking slow and deep. Inch by inch, he savors the salty heat, tongue swirling like a man claiming his prize. Derek growls, desire overtaking duty. He flips the eager captive onto his back, legs hoisted high, ass cheeks parted wide. That tight, puckered entrance begs for attention. Derek dives in, tongue lashing greedily—lapping broad strokes, then spearing inside, thrusting wet and relentless. Hunter writhes, teetering on the edge. Derek can't wait. He surges forward, pounding into him with feral fury, driving deep and hard until the world blurs. With a final, savage thrust, he claims his territory, flooding Hunter with scorching seed.