Dann Grey strips off his shorts, leaving only the tank top as he stretches out on the couch, legs spread wide while his hand grips the yellow strap, then raises them high, one palm pressed into the cushion as he arches back, the strap cutting through the air between them. His muscles ripple under the light skin as he shifts positions, bending his knees, spreading them further, and finally letting the strap fall away as he lies fully exposed, staring upward, then to the side, then down. The couch becomes his stage, every pose deliberate, every movement a slow, unhurried claim of the moment.
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