Xander Lane solo

Xander Lane sits on a chair, legs spread wide, patterned underwear barely containing his lean frame as he leans back with one arm raised, fingers tracing the air between them. The door frame looms behind him, a silent witness as he shifts, legs bent, hands on knees, then crossed, each pose deliberate, the fabric slipping lower with every movement until nothing remains but skin. The chair stays, the underwear gone, the only prop left is the way he holds himself.