Boris Makov strips down in front of a mirror, his dark hair framing a body built for strength, every flex sharp against smooth skin. Thumbs hooked in his waistband, he poses with the confidence of a man who knows exactly what he’s showing, purple underwear peeking through the frames, his hands gripping door frames or surfaces as if testing his own weight. The mirror captures every angle, from hips flexed to knees bent, each pose a deliberate display of power.
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