Elio Pjatteryd sits back on the bed, fingers tracing the waistband of his underwear as he adjusts them with deliberate slowness. The checkered sheets frame his smooth, slim body while he shifts onto his side, gripping a pink object between his hands before letting his grip loosen into slow, deliberate strokes. Naked, he lies sprawled across the sheets, the motion of his hand painting the air with quiet focus.
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