Erik King presses his broad, sun-kissed chest against the rough stone wall, his sculpted arms flexing as he grips the edge of a worn step beneath him. The late afternoon light carves his defined muscles, catching the damp sheen of sweat on his back as he bends slightly, one hand sliding down to tease the thick rope binding his wrists. His breath comes sharp and controlled, the air thick with the scent of earth and salt.
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