The Rodrigo estate was dead quiet ... the kind of quiet that pressed on your skull like a hangover you couldn't shake.
Except in Rapheal's wing.
There, the air was thick with sweat and moans and the wet slap of skin on skin.
Rapheal was panting had one twink bent over the edge of the massive bed, eight thick inches buried balls-deep in his tight ass, pounding hard and steady while the second twink was sprawled beside them on his back, legs spread wide. Rapheal's fingers were knuckle-deep in the second one's hole, curling and scissoring, thumb brushing his prostate on every thrust. Both boys were whimpering, leaking, begging
"Fuck, master..harder, please" their bodies shiny with sweat, cocks twitching untouched against their stomachs as the print of precum wet an area around their stomach.
Rapheal was lost in it, hips snapping, low filthy groans rumbling out of his chest, and he had just moved into the other twink when the heavy double doors swung open without a knock.
