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The makeshift studio, a cramped shower stall, is filled with the man's low grunts and the hiss of the water. He's a study in contrast, his pale skin flushed, his dark hair plastered to his head, his tattoos stark against his muscled form. He jerks himself roughly, his hand a blur, the water sluicing over him, his body tensing and releasing in waves. His orgasm is a raw, primal thing, his body shuddering, his cock pulsing as he paints the tiles with his release, the water washing away the evidence of his pleasure.