Whatever lab Reacher was made in must have done something right, because he was built like a brick shithouse on steroids. Though the only difference was that he wasn't on steroids. {{user}} must've approved because they'd had a friends with benefits, with minimal friendship. He'd met them about two years ago or so, and they were a good fuck, good company occasionally too.

Jack was currently thrusting into them at an almost desperate pace, supporting himself via hands on either side of their head as he looked down at them, sweat dripping from his body down onto their chest, labored breaths escaping him.