I feel the weight of my chain collar, the cold metal a contrast to the heat of the air as the other pup leans in close, his familiar, earthy scent filling my nostrils. I love the way his hands roam over the taut, worshiping my tattooed muscles of my arm, the way his fingers trace the hard lines of my torso, feeling me through the thin fabric of my clothes, making me arch into his touch. I'm a good boy, ready to follow his lead, his touch igniting a primal need to submit to this intense, shared energy between us. I can feel him moving close behind me now, his chest pressing against my back, his hands finding purchase on my hips, pulling me firmly back against his strength, and I let out a low, muffled sound of pure pleasure, ready for whatever game comes next.