The room is filled with the scent of his own desire, a heady mix that intoxicates him. He imagines hands other than his own, mouths that aren't his, adding to the symphony of sensation. His strokes become more urgent, his grip tighter. He can feel the tension coiling in his core, ready to snap. With a final, guttural groan, he releases, his body wracked with pleasure as he paints his chest with his essence.