Ennis pounded hard and fast, desperate and primitive. He grunted with each sharp thrust of his hips. His hands pressed tot he wall by Jack's head, fingers digging into the grain, stripping away bits of the wood and imbedding splinters in his fingers.
He cried out, a rare vocalisation, as he climaxed, his seed burning hot through him and into Jack. He gave a final rutting thrust, pressing Jack against the wall, and holding him there, as if afraid to move.