In the quiet of his room, a man, unnamed and alone, begins his private ritual. His hands, calloused yet tender, trace the lines of his body, igniting a slow burn. He strips, the fabric whispering against his skin, revealing the hard evidence of his arousal. His breath hitches as he takes himself in hand, the sensation of his own grip sending jolts of pleasure through him. He leans back, eyes closed, lost in the rhythm of his own touch, his body tensing, release imminent.