Chris Hacker stands with his heavily tattooed arms flexed, thumbs hooked into his waistband as he leans into the black metal railings behind him, the ink stretching across his muscular chest. His clean-shaven jaw tightens as he adjusts his grip, hands sliding from his hips to his head, every pose sharp with controlled tension. The railings cut into the frame like a barrier, but his body ignores them, just another surface to press against.
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