As the first light of dawn breaks, Den Mack's eyes flutter open, his mind already wandering to the throbbing need between his legs. He kicks off the sheets, his hand instinctively wrapping around his thick, morning-wood. He strokes slowly, appreciating the silkiness of his skin, the heat building in his palm. His breaths deepen, the room filling with his quiet, satisfied grunts as he brings himself to a shuddering, sticky release.