Fabrizio shows his skin

Fabrizio leans against rough wood, his lean frame stretched taut as he grips his own cock, thick, flushed with need, while the wall’s grain bites into his skin. His dark hair falls loose, framing a face half-hidden by the angle, fingers curling around himself with deliberate precision. Every shift of his hips, every twist of his wrist, is measured, the tension in his arms the only thing holding back the rush.