Felix Chase strips in a locker room, his dark hair slicked back as he flexes bare-chested against the red-and-white striped backdrop, muscles rippling under smooth skin. He sits on a bench, stretches a leg with deliberate control, then squats low before leaning against the wall, water bottle forgotten in his grip. Every pose is deliberate, every movement calculated, just him, the light, and the space between skin and fabric as it falls away.
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