Jules Bourget presses his palm against the wall, muscles taut beneath his smooth skin, before sinking onto the bed with one deliberate motion, legs splayed wide, fingers tracing the edge of his own cock. The mirror captures him from behind, every inch of his lean, hairless frame caught in the reflection as he shifts, hips lifting just enough to tease. His dark hair falls forward, framing the way he leans in, hand hovering near the weight of his own need.
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