Dario Beck stands in his dark suit, tie loosened just enough to let his chest breathe as he runs a hand over his groin, fingers brushing the fabric of his trousers. His muscular frame leans back against the couch, legs splayed wide, the unbuttoned shirt gaping open to reveal the tight lines of his torso. The red tie, still knotted, still sharp, dangles loose as he shifts, one hand resting heavy on his thigh, the other tracing the curve of his hip. Every pose is deliberate, every gesture a slow, deliberate claim on his own body.
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