Oleg Romanov stretches across the couch, his lean frame arched as he lies on his stomach with legs bent, the dark hair of his back catching the light. One moment he’s propped up on his side, head resting on a pillow, arms loose behind him, then he’s flat on his back with legs spread wide, the tension in his muscles sharp and deliberate. The close-ups lock onto his torso, clean-shaven jaw, the way his arms flex when he raises one hand above his head, the slow shift from relaxed to taut as he rolls onto his back. Every position is deliberate, every breath measured.
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