Dean Wildwood’s sweat glistens on his smooth, muscular arms as he wipes himself with a towel, the fabric clinging to his damp skin while Raphael Cedano watches from the shadows. His short hair catches the light as he leans in, fingers already tracing the damp lines of Dean’s back before pulling him down hard. The locker room hums with the weight of their bodies, the air thick with the scent of soap and exertion as Raphael grips him tight.
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