Kian O’Connor sits with his muscular torso flexed, hands gripping his thighs as he strokes himself with deliberate precision, his dark hair framing a clean-shaven face. Pillows prop him up when he lies back, legs raised high, fingers tangled in his own hair as he works himself open. The close-up frames his chest, ripped, hairless, the veins standing out beneath his skin. Every movement is slow, every breath measured.
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