In the dimly lit gym, Phoenix's presence commanded attention. His sculpted frame glistened with beads of sweat as he engaged in an intricate ballet of strength and precision. With each rep, his muscles rippled, straining against the resistance of the iron dumbbells. There was a fluidity to his movements that spoke of an intimate familiarity with his own body. The clang of weights melded with the steady rhythm of his breathing, an unspoken dialogue between man and iron. It was as if the weights themselves yielded willingly to his touch, surrendering their resistance to his willpower. Yet, a distant sound reached Phoenix underneath the clang of metal. Someone was singing, and based on the way the echo hung in the air, he could tell it came from the backrooms, where the showers were. He wiped some sweat away before it could reach his eyes; now was as good a time for a break as any. He followed the song until he found its source. There, naked, his body slick with water, was Sleepy Reed, si
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