Marc Dylan stands in his uniform, flexing bare-chested with the leather jacket draped over one shoulder, the badge glinting under the light. His arms cross tight over his chest, hands gripping the harness straps as he kneels, muscles rippling under smooth, sun-kissed skin. The belt buckle rests low on his hips, fingers tracing the leather as he shifts into a dominant stance, hands on his knees, then raised high above his head. Every pose locks in the power of the harness, the straps cutting into his thighs as he holds his weight, the uniform’s authority made flesh.
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