Larry Lara grips thick chains between his knuckles while his broad chest flexes under coarse, dark hair, every muscle taut as he bends low, hands planted on his knees. The wall behind him is just a backdrop, his body is the only thing that matters, every pose a deliberate flex of strength, from arms raised high to his back arched in controlled tension. The chains cut into his grip, but he doesn’t flinch, holding them like they’re the only thing keeping him grounded.
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