Hans Berlin fucks Isaac Jones

Hans Berlin pins Isaac Jones against the locker room bench, his tie already loosened as he yanks the fabric free with a sharp tug, the sound of fabric tearing sharp in the close space. Isaac’s shirt follows, peeled back to reveal his muscular torso, tattoos snaking up his arms and legs, while Berlin grips the hairdryer, its heat blasting over his back as he bends him forward, fingers digging into the wood beneath. The bench creaks under their weight, the only sound the hum of the dryer and the wet slap of skin against metal.