Nijad Hayanjerks

Nijad Hayan stands with his hands on his hips, his dark hair loose and his chest covered in thick, dark hair, his white headwrap tight against his head as he leans into the patterned fabrics behind him. He grips himself hard, his muscular frame stretched out across the furniture, the rough texture of the fabrics framing his movements. The way he shifts his weight, the way his fingers work over his length, is deliberate and unhurried.