Maykol Paris strips down to his skin, his dark hair slicked back as he stretches out on the bed, the greenish body paint glinting under the light, before finally collapsing onto his side with the phone still clutched in his hand. His muscles ripple as he shifts positions, leaning back, rolling onto his stomach, then standing near the window, shirtless the whole time, his body language shifting from relaxed to restless. The yellow sheets stay untouched until the very end, when he lies back fully naked, the paint now smeared from movement, his focus drifting somewhere beyond the frame.
