Zac Steele and Adam Snow detonate in this raw, uniform-stripping clash of muscle and hunger—a masterclass in passionate and raw bareback drilling. The scene crackles with pent-up tension from frame one: Zac, all porcelain skin and nervous energy, locks lips with Adam in a kiss so volcanic, it’s a miracle their uniforms don’t combust. Fabric grinds against fabric, cocks straining like live wires, until Adam—the seasoned alpha with a torso carved from oak—peels away their clothes, exposing the pale, trembling canvas of Zac’s body.
Adam’s gaze rakes over Zac’s naked form, equal parts predator and patron. “Fuck, you’re pretty,” he growls, thumbing the head of his own monstrous cock—thick, veined, and already glistening. Zac sinks to his knees, hands shaking but mouth determined, worshiping Adam’s dick with a novice’s eagerness and a veteran’s instinct. Slurps echo as Zac deepthroats on instinct, tears welling but never spilling—Adam rewards him with a rough hair-pull and a rasped, “Attaboy.”
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The real fire ignites when Adam flips Zac onto the bed, spitting on his hole before spearing him raw. Zac’s gasp fractures into a moan as pain melts into desperate need, his back arching to take every inch. Adam’s hips snap like a piston, drilling into Zac with a wrecking-ball rhythm that shifts from missionary to doggy to Zac folded nearly in half. “Harder—!” Zac chokes, nails raking Adam’s tanned shoulders as the bedframe screams in protest.
Adam’s climax isn’t a release—it’s a conquest. He rams into Zac one final time, roaring as he floods the younger man’s guts with thick, violent ropes. Zac trembles through his own untouched orgasm, cum streaking his stomach like a badge of surrender. When Adam pulls out, Zac’s hole gapes, glazed and twitching—a stark contrast to the pristine cadet he was an hour prior.
