Mio, cloaked in his well-loved leather jacket, retreats to his private space, the weight of the day lifting from his shoulders as he closes the door behind him. He sinks into a chair, the leather creaking softly, and allows his thoughts to wander. His hand, as if with a mind of its own, drifts to his crotch, cupping his growing bulge. He groans, the sound muffled by the jacket, as he begins to touch himself, his movements becoming more urgent, the scent of his arousal mingling with the familiar smell of the leather.