Wyatt Owens Bottoms For Sean Bane

Wyatt Owens drops to his knees, taking Sean Bane’s thick cock like a champ, his head bobbing, gagging, worshipping. Sean’s hands tangle in Wyatt’s hair, setting the pace, his hips snapping as he face-fucks him, his cock hitting the back of Wyatt’s throat, eyes watering with the effort. “That’s it, Wyatt—take my cock like the little bitch you are,” Sean growls, his voice laced with dominance. Sean pulls out, a wicked smirk on his face as he spins Wyatt around, bending him over the arm of the couch. He spreads those cheeks, licking, rimming, preparing, before lining up and slamming home, their bodies slapping, the couch creaking under their weight.

Wyatt’s moans turn to screams as Sean’s cock hits that sweet spot over and over, his body convulsing, his hole clenching around Sean’s thick cock. Sean’s ass rises and falls, a perfect rhythm as he pounds into Wyatt, his muscles rippling, his body glistening with sweat. He leans down, biting Wyatt’s shoulder, marking him as his, his hands gripping Wyatt’s hips, leaving bruises. “You like that, Wyatt? You like my cock in your whore hole?” Sean grunts, and Wyatt’s response is a string of yeses and pleas, his body trembling, his hole gaping, leaking cum. Sean’s release is a roar, his cock pulsing, filling Wyatt with his seed, breeding him deep.

He pulls out, stroking his cock, painting Wyatt’s back with his cum, mixing it with Wyatt’s own leak. They collapse into each other’s arms, kissing, their bodies slick, hearts pounding. “Fuck, Wyatt—that was intense,” Sean murmurs, and Wyatt just grins, pulling him in for another kiss. “Until next time, Sean,” he says, and they both laugh, content, spent, and utterly satisfied.