Mark Bentley strips down in tight black leather, his dark hair slicked back as he flexes for the camera, tattoos snaking up his arms and shoulders. He leans against a wall, arms stretched wide, then slams his chest into the leather, muscles rippling under the light. Sitting on the edge of a chair, he grips his head, fingers digging into his scalp as he poses with a mix of power and restraint. Every movement is deliberate, every flex a display of strength.
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