Ayden Mallory leans against the armrest of a couch, his lean frame relaxed as his fingers brush his thigh, the dark hair of his smooth face catching the light. The flower he holds is pressed close to his chest, his smile sharp as he shifts his weight, one hand lingering near his groin. Outdoors, he squats in the foliage, the garden’s blooms framing his posture, before settling back on the cushions, his body loose and deliberate.
