James Jordan stands in a suit, tie already loosened, his fingers tracing the silk as he peels it free with deliberate slowness. The wooden desk holds him as he leans back, muscles taut beneath the fabric, before kicking off his jacket and letting it pool at his feet. His hands grip the tie again, winding it around his wrist before pulling it taut, then using it to bind himself, the knot tight against his throat. The chair watches as he shifts, the tie still coiled in his fist, before he strips away the rest, leaving nothing but skin and the sharp pull of restraint.
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