Trey Bentley stands shirtless, his dark hair framing a lean, clean-shaven face as he shifts on the bed, arm raised before stretching it out, then pulling it behind his head, each pose deliberate, the striped sheets beneath him bright against the wall art. His fingers grip himself, slow and sure, the tension in his body growing as his legs lift, hips arching just enough to make the motion clear. The focus is all on him, on the way his skin glistens, on the way he moves.
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