Jack Allen sits on the red couch, his dark hair falling over his broad shoulders as he grips himself with steady hands, the muscles in his arms flexing with each slow stroke. Leaning against the wall, he shifts his weight, the patterned cushions digging slightly into his back as he works himself open, his focus sharp and deliberate. Naked in later shots, he lies sprawled across the couch, one leg bent, the other stretched out, his body relaxed yet still charged with the rhythm of his own touch.
