Hayden Harding Drills Zac Barrett

Post-shower steam hangs thick as Hayden Harding corner Zac Barrett in the locker room. “Heard you bragging about your stamina,” Hayden growls, slamming Zac’s back against the tiles. Zac grins, toweling off his chiseled torso. “Prove me wrong.” Hayden’s fist twists in Zac’s damp hair, shoving him to his knees. Zac’s tongue swirls around Hayden’s thick head, smirk fading as precum floods his throat.

Hayden drags him up, spit-lubing Zac’s hole before pinning him facedown on a weight bench. “Scream and I stop,” he lies, sheathing himself with a brutal thrust. The bench rattles, Zac’s nails clawing the padding as Hayden’s hips snap like a piston. “Fucking liar!” Zac chokes, arching to take him deeper. Hayden fists Zac’s leaking cock, timing strokes to his jackhammer rhythm until Zac erupts across the bench. Hayden follows, painting Zac’s shoulder blades. “Told you I’d win,” he smirks, slapping Zac’s raw ass.