Brock Banks Barebacks Ian Greene

The scent of fresh soap still clung to Ian Greene as he walked into the shop, bringing a jolt of energy with him. Brock Banks was waiting, a relaxed presence, his easy smile a stark contrast to his solid frame. Ian Greene slid into the chair, and Brock Banks got to work. Their conversation was effortless, a low current of laughter running underneath Brock’s focused movements. As Brock’s skilled hands guided the razor, Ian Greene felt a familiar tension shift into something new, something deeper.

The sharp scent of aftershave cut the air as Brock Banks leaned in close for an inspection, his breath warm on Ian Greene’s neck. In the mirror’s reflection, their eyes locked. No words were needed. With a knowing look, Brock Banks pivoted the chair, and Ian Greene met him halfway. The cool leather of the barber’s chair pressed against Ian Greene’s back as Brock Banks moved over him, the professional pretense completely abandoned. This was a different kind of service, and both Brock Banks and Ian Greene were all in.