Ganasdemorir, alone in his room, lets his desires take over. He strips, his body a canvas of toned muscles and heated skin. He runs his hands over himself, teasing his nipples into hard peaks, before moving down to grasp his leaking cock. He pumps it slowly, his other hand cupping his balls, rolling them gently. The room is filled with the sound of his ragged breathing, the wet noises of his hand working his cock. He imagines a lover, their hands, their mouth, their body, and with a final, strangled cry, he comes, his cock spilling over, his body shuddering with the force of his release.