Raul DeLaGuardia stands in the bathroom mirror, his dark hair framing a muscular frame and a chest covered in ink, while his hand traces the chain around his neck before slipping lower. The counter holds him as he flexes, the sink’s edge forgotten as his grip tightens around himself, the tattoos shifting under the light. Sitting on the bathtub’s edge, he leans forward, the movement deliberate, his fingers working with precision.
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