European boy

The lean, clean-shaven boy with dark hair strips off his clothes, his towel clutched tight as he shifts from standing to sitting, then back again. The fabric brushes his chest, his abs, his cock, still half-wrapped, still damp, before he drops it entirely, leaving nothing but skin and the way his fingers trace idle patterns against his own body. Every pose lingers on the tension between effort and surrender, the towel slipping from his neck to his waist, then gone. The only sound is the fabric’s rustle, the only movement his own.