James Jones undresses in the infirmary

James Jones strips bare in a sterile infirmary, his muscular frame stretched across a bed as he grips himself with deliberate precision. The fluorescent glow of the room highlights every ripple of his torso, every controlled flex of his fingers against his own length. His dark hair stays back, his clean-shaven jaw set in quiet focus as he arranges himself, first seated, then sprawled, then leaning forward to expose every angle. The bed creaks under his weight, the fabric taut against his skin as he works himself into the poses, each one deliberate, each one unhurried.