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Summary
A kiss to his nape told him Benson was awake. It felt like the sun blaring down on his back.
A loose hand slid down his spine, thumb pushing into the muscle before it squeezed at Randy's waist. Angling him closer. Arching into his dick.
Benson wasn’t patient, and Randy knew better than to expect softness from him for long. When Benson wanted something, he moved toward it, all appetite and no manners.
