The third piece in the A Guy From Berlin series softens the tone—but doesn’t abandon its intensity. It shifts the visual language from the clinical, documentarian framing of kink and sex pics into something far more intimate, far more dangerous: tenderness. Here, the viewer is no longer outside the act, voyeur or consumer. Instead, we are placed in a moment of nearness—where warmth becomes tension, and touch becomes power.

The image captures a bite, or is it a kiss? The grip on the shoulder is firm, even possessive. It’s a quiet moment, but it thrums with implication. The viewer is caught mid-frame, unsure if they’ve stumbled onto something too private to witness or something meant to be seen, to be shared, like so many other sex pics: proof of desire, evidence of conquest, maybe even an attempt to hold onto something fleeting.

In this drawing, the Berlin gaze turns introspective. It’s about intimacy, but it’s also about performance—the raw vulnerability not of exposure, but of letting someone close. Close enough to press their mouth to your skin. Close enough to hurt. Close enough to hope they won’t.