In the soft glow of the afternoon sun filtering through the sheer white curtains of his minimalist bedroom, 19-year-old Ethan stood shirtless, his athletic frame a testament to hours spent in the gym sculpting his body without overdoing it. His skin was fair and smooth, almost porcelain-like, stretched taut over defined muscles that hinted at strength rather than bulk. Short black hair, tousled just enough to look effortlessly sexy, framed his sharp features—high cheekbones, a chiseled jawline, and piercing blue eyes that sparkled with a mix of innocence and mischief. The room around him was a serene haven: white walls, a neatly made bed with crisp white sheets, and wooden floors that creaked faintly under his bare feet. A gentle breeze from the open window carried the faint scent of fresh laundry, but Ethan’s mind was far from mundane thoughts. He was alone, the door locked, the world outside forgotten as he surrendered to a private ritual of self-indulgence.

Music pulsed softly from his phone on the nightstand—a slow, rhythmic beat with sultry bass lines that made his hips sway instinctively. Ethan began to dance, his movements seductive and fluid, like a secret performance meant only for his reflection in the full-length mirror across the room. He raised his arms above his head, arching his back slightly to accentuate the V-shape of his torso, his abs contracting in a mesmerizing ripple. A smile crept across his lips, not a cocky grin but the most adorable one imaginable—boyish, dimpled, with a hint of shyness that made him look even more irresistible. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he locked gaze with himself in the mirror, biting his lower lip playfully while his body undulated to the music. He twisted his hips, letting his hands trail down his sides, fingers grazing the faint lines of his obliques, savoring the warmth of his own skin.

The dance grew more intimate, his breaths coming deeper as arousal built within him. Ethan’s hands roamed freely now, exploring the hairless expanse of his chest—smooth pecs that rose and fell with each breath, small pink nipples hardening under his touch. He was completely bare except for the soft tufts of dark hair under his arms, which he left untouched as a subtle contrast to his otherwise silky body. His fingers danced lower, tracing the defined ridges of his six-pack abs, dipping into the navel before sliding along the waistband of his black pants. The fabric clung to his hips, already tented from the growing hardness beneath. He paused in his dance, that adorable smile widening into something more teasing, his eyes half-lidded with desire.