Matthieu Corne leans against the bed, fingers brushing his own cock as he watches his reflection, the ink of his upper-arm tattoo sharp against his smooth skin. He adjusts himself with a slow, deliberate grip, then grips the glass in his other hand, smiling as if the camera is the only audience worth pleasing. Every frame captures him at rest, half-hard, his lean body angled just so, the weight of his hand on his thigh a quiet promise of what comes next.
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