Daniel Justice doesn’t ask—he makes you want it. Jona Ortiz can’t hide it for long. The sweat builds fast as Daniel slides in deep, grinding slow with that cocky smirk that says he knows exactly what he’s doing. Jona’s moaning, breath caught, begging for more. This isn’t a fight—this is surrender, stroke for stroke, till the only thing coming out of his mouth is his name.
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