Nick Taylor’s lean frame leans against the brick wall, shirt clutched open by Sergio Soldi’s hands as he strips him bare, while the phone in Taylor’s grip captures every second of the shift, from buttoned collar to nothing. Soldi’s dark hair stays smooth, his muscular arms working the fabric off with deliberate force, the orange threads of the shirt snagging just enough to make it last. The wall behind them stays silent, but the air between them doesn’t.
+28+27+26+25+24+23
More clips
