Luke Geer grips his own chest with rough, tattooed hands while leaning against a table, his dark hair falling forward as he shifts his weight. On the bed, he sits with one leg bent, fingers tracing his face in slow, deliberate strokes, the patterned sheets beneath him creased from movement. His muscular frame is bare, the towel clutched loosely in his grip as he shifts between poses, each one isolating his body in quiet, unhurried focus.
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