Fabric ripped as Chris tore the jeans down and away from Sean's hips. He had no idea who this man was, but he could take a wild guess at his story. Chris had been around the block a time or three, and knew a man who craved being used when he saw one. He considered it fate that Sean had been right outside the laundry room door, right where Chris needed him to be when Chris needed someone to be there.
One hand fisted Sean's cock, his other hand made a hurried grab at his own jeans, forcing them down just enough to jerk his own cock out. He shouldn't be hard, shouldn't be ready like this, but he ached with the need to bury his length in a hot, pulsing hole. That need blacked out every other thought, as Chris jerked his hips and rammed his hand against Sean from the front to force him back, forcing him to take him dry.
Chris grunted with the effort, with the force of pushing past the body's natural resistance to invasion. Once he was slammed in to the hilt, he drew back, the one hand firm on the other man's cock, his free hand going up to the hair at the back of his neck, taking hold, and pushing Sean's head down to the floor, his hips raised up to give Chris the leverage he needed to fuck him hard.