Chris White sits with a headband tight on his dark hair, muscles flexing under the relaxed slouch as he leans into the moment. His hands grip the edge of whatever surface holds him, fingers flexing as he waits, no hesitation, just the quiet tension of a man ready to take control. The air hums with the promise of what’s coming next, but for now, it’s just the steady rhythm of his breath and the sharp line of his jaw.
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