Christopher Blanc strips bare against a wall, his dark hair slicked back as he leans in, one hand gripping the back of his head while the other traces the chain of his necklace. The muscles in his arms ripple as he shifts his weight, hips pressing into the wood before he collapses onto the bed, legs splayed wide to reveal the taut lines of his stomach. His fingers brush his groin, then rest against his chest, the necklace catching the light as he stretches out, every pose deliberate, every movement a slow unraveling.
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