Hell on Wheels: Angel Elias & Dex Devall’s Gritty, Ink-Stained Tryst
This isn’t romance. It’s a collision. Angel Elias—skater-brat swagger wrapped in tattoos and a mohawk that screams trouble—stares down at Dex Devall with a smirk that’s equal parts promise and threat. Dex, all wide-eyed innocence and bitten lips, looks like he wandered into the wrong alley. Lucky for him, Angel’s idea of “wrong” is exactly where the fun begins.
The tension snaps when Dex drops to his knees, fingers fumbling with Angel’s belt like he’s unwrapping a grenade. Angel’s fat cock springs free, and Dex takes him deep, gagging prettily as his nose brushes wiry pubes. “Eager fuckin’ rookie,” Angel growls, yanking Dex’s head back by his hair. “Eyes on me while you choke.”
But Angel’s no selfish top. He repays the favor with interest, flipping Dex onto all fours and burying his face in the twink’s hairless ass. His tongue spears into Dex’s hole like he’s starving for it, lapping and sucking until Dex is a shaking mess, begging through tears: “Fuck me—please”
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Angel doesn’t ask twice. He slams into Dex doggystyle, the force knocking Dex’s palms flat on the concrete. “Tight little shit,” he grunts, hammering deeper with every thrust. Dex claws at the ground, torn between pain and mindless pleasure, until Angel flips him onto his back.
What follows isn’t lovemaking—it’s ruin. Angel pins Dex’s legs to his chest, driving into him with the blunt force of a battering ram. Dex’s cries turn ragged, his cock slapping against his stomach with each brutal stroke. When Angel feels Dex’s balls tighten, he fists the twink’s shaft, jerking him roughly. “Cum,” he orders—and Dex obeys, shooting ropes across his own chest with a sob.
Angel follows with a snarl, pulling out to paint Dex’s face before shoving his still-dripping cock back into that wrecked hole. “Gonna feel me for days,” he rasps, claiming Dex’s mouth in a filthy kiss. Dex just whimpers, already addicted to the burn.
