Dallas Bleu gets hot and bothered

Dallas Bleu leans against the wall, fingers tracing the edge of his crotch while his biceps flex under his skin, dark hair framing a face that’s all sharp angles and controlled breath. He stretches across the floral sheets, legs splayed wide as his hand drifts behind his head, the painting behind him a blur of color that doesn’t matter when his muscles ripple under the light. Every pose, hips thrust, arms pinned, mouth slightly open, is a slow, deliberate claim on the bed, his body moving just enough to make the sheets shift.